#YOURE SO. TOO SWEET /gen /gen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fushitoru · 2 months ago

Text

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

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

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

#aashi writes #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru

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misssmina · 9 months ago

Text

Y’all don’t make use of funny character traits enough.

Guys!!!!

Bakugou is the nosiest kid I have ever seen. Put it in your fics. Make use of him constantly coming to incorrect conclusions.

Midoriya is actually a really violent kid, he just has the patience of a patron saint. The entire world is lucky he’s too sweet to act on his anger. (Go look in his notebook)

Iida is so shady. “One is my friend and the other one is Bakugou.” COME ONNNNN

Kaminari is such a girly pop y’all. Y’all don’t give him enough silly gen z slang. Please go listen to how he speaks in dub. Sounds like he has 6 sisters.

Uraraka is so unreasonably chill. Almost nothing bothers that girl. Please make her more vulnerable to things because she just can’t be assed to care.

Kirishima is a shit talker, and regularly puts people in their place. Y’all keep writing like him like he’s some little puppy. This man is a Doberman.

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anundyingfidelity · 3 months ago

Text

ESCAPADE — Logan Howlett

Summary: For a weekend, you and Logan decide to travel away from the school. Needless to say, you can't keep your hands off each other.

Pairing: Established Logan x female mutant reader. Also teacher!reader at Xavier's school. Set after DoFP ending where everyone is alive because I say so, but can be read however you want lol.

Warnings: pure smut, unprotected p in v, sex at a motel, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, all the smutty stuff.

Notes: main language is not English, but hope you enjoy this filthy drabble. I need him to rail me so bad, bye.

GEN MASTERLIST!

God, he missed this so fucking much.

Logan groans, hands grabbing tightly your hips as you fuck yourself on top of him. Your ass against his skin every time you lower down to impale on his cock, over and over.

The sight is just completely perfect, holding yourself against his abdomen, back against his chest as he rests by the head of the bed.

And shit, he loves to hear you so damn much. Hear you whimper, moan, and sigh with every thrust he gives up to meet your flesh. He even would love to see your tits bouncing in front of him...

“Fuck, yes!”

That sweet out-loud moan leaving your lips causes him to pick up the pace. Your praise never fails to make him go feral, going rough and faster than before.

“Shit, right there- fuck! Feels so good!” Your pussy walls welcoming his cock, glistening with your arousal every time he almost pulled completely outside your hole.

It was your second day in that same motel room, fucking like animals. This wasn’t the plan at all when you originally left the mansion. Both of you just needed to be away at least for a couple of days to have time for yourselves, far from everything and everyone. You wanted to have an actual trip with nice dates, good food, and see the city, but the short time you two had was enough to just have you there on the bed, round after round. He missed your sweet sounds, that dirty side of you when no one was around. How you’d let him rail you as he pleased.

This is all he wanted. It is all he needs right now. You, on top of him, spread and ready for his cock to fuck your guts all day and night.

“Shit, you’re right there already again?” he grunts, feeling himself squeezed by your cunt.

He knows you’re close. And you just came again a couple of moments ago. Neither of you is counting how many times you already came as he fucked you. You whimper again, biting your lip and scratching his skin with your nails.

“Yeah, you there again,” he chuckles with that raspy voice. Immediately, his hands take you by the back of your knees, accomodating you on his lap. You yelp and stop for a second, letting him guide you again. Logan doesn’t give you a moment to get adjusted to new angle, instead thrusting up and fucking you so good that he knows the whole place is now aware of what is happening inside your room.

“I love how you feel around me,” he bites the shell of your ear as you arch your back, head on his shoulder, feeling a sweet release hitting you. “So fucking warm and wet, always ready for me…”

His voice does things on you and finally, your legs start shaking, pussy throbbing around his still hard cock.

“Shit-shit-oh!”

You try to close your thighs together but he does such a great job on keeping you spread for him, your hands are on his wrists trying to keep him away, but as much as you are a mutant yourself, Logan is too fucking strong even for you. You feel that familiar sting on your belly, crying out loud due to the overstimulation. The sensation is everywhere, taking upon your senses.

“Fucking come around me, baby,” Logan hisses, hips stuttering before finally spilling inside you with a low grunt, filling you up to the brim. His thrusts slow down, just enough to make sure you take his hot seed inside your cunt.

And then, in the aftermath, he leans against your cheek, placing soft kisses and mumbling against your ear as you take it all.“Yeah, that’s it… Such a good girl…”

“That was so good,” you mumble, angling your face so you finally kiss him, slow and wet, until he softens inside you. The feeling of his beard burns your skin deliciously every time you kiss. “Tired already?” you tease with a smirk once your lips are apart.

But he is thrusting into you softly again. You moan but smile back at him.

“Y’know I never grow tired of you, I might have to show you again, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, teasingly.

“With pleasure.”

He grunts in response. If only you had more time...

#logan howlet smut #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagines #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett scenarios #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine x female reader #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine imagines #x men smut

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gh0stsp1d3r · 6 months ago

Note

Reader x Rafe. They have been dating for about 2-3 months and have been intimate, but it’s always been on the rough side. This very day, Reader is doing something sweet/ thoughtful for Rafe “cus she thought about him” and it just melts his heart, and he realizes he is in love with her. So he makes love to her and is really really sweet. Hehe xx

𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈

warnings: smut, mdni, p in v, sweetheart reader, like one use of the name baby, unedited

a/n: wooo I’m getting back in my grind. anyways I loved his request so much it was so sweet ugh.

MASTERLIST

dividers by @/plutism and @/xurengu0

Rafe was always rough. That was a fact. And you didn’t mind it. But today was the day you saw a change in him.

He’s out on a business trip, you’re sitting on the bed, making a bracelet for him that, waiting for him to come back any minute now. You looked up from the strings in front of you and at the clock, then picked up your phone. Nothing new.

You just sighed and continued to finish the bracelet, glancing up at the clock every once in a while. Finally, you held it up in front of you. It had both of your initials on beads on it, along with a little heart bead in the middle. You smiled at it.

Even if you felt like he probably wouldn’t wear it, you would.

You heard the door open, and you jumped at the noise.

“Y/n?” He shouted from downstairs. You pocketed the bracelet, practically running down the stairs. He was putting down his stuff when you came running to him, jumping into his arms. He laughed, patting your back with a smile, he moved to kiss you on the lips, his hands grabbing your face.

“Missed you too.” He remarked, you rolling your eyes and leaning in to kiss him again. It had only been a few weeks and yet, it felt like years.

“I made you dinner.” You beamed up at him when you pulled away, hands on his neck. He nodded. “Let me put this shit up real quick and I’ll be down, yeah?” He said, you nodding and getting off of him, and going into the kitchen.

You put the food onto two plates, putting them onto the table. You began to eat, scrolling through your phone a bit as you waited. He finally came downstairs, in nothing but his grey sweatpants on his hips. You quirked an eyebrow as he hopped into the chair opposite of you.

“Mm. This is good.” He murmured after taking a bite, looking at you. You smiled at him, both of you eating while he talked about his trip and you talked about what you did while he was gone. You both talked even after the food was gone, just sitting back and laughing with each other.

You both stood up, and went into the bedroom. You both cuddled on the bed when you suddenly remembered the bracelet you made.

“Oh! Also, I uh…” you reached into your pocket, fishing for the bracelet. You grabbed it and pulled it out with a smile. “Made this for you.“ you held it out for him. He took it, examining it. “You don’t have to wear it, I guess, I just got bored and I thought about you. But-“

“No, no, no, no,” he stopped you. “I love it.” He smiled at it. He put the bracelet on his wrist, tightening it with the strings. “It’s nice.” He said. And fuck, it tugged at his heart strings. That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him.

He finally turned his head up to you, looking at you with a soft smile. “I love it.” He told you. Your smile widened, feeling relieved that he didn’t hate it.

“C’mere.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss you. His hand caressed the back of your head, and you let out a low moan when he slid his tongue into your mouth.

He moved so that he was now hovering on top of you, his lips still connected to yours. Your hands gripped his face, his on your sides.

You both pulled away, slightly out of breath when Rafe told you something you never quite thought you’d ever hear him say.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened in shock, mouth going agape. “I…love you too.” You replied.

His hands went to your shorts, taking them off and throwing them somewhere on the floor. His rough lips were against your soft skin, gently sucking and kissing your neck.

You had a hand on the back of his head, his free hand below him shoving off his sweatpants and boxers. His cock was pulsing, the tip red and spilling out pre-cum. He pulled away from you, lips just above yours as he looked down.

He ran his cock up and down your pussy, you letting out a moan when it hit your clit with pressure. He smiled at your noises, looking back at you. He collected your juices on his cock, before slowly lining himself up with your entrance.

You cried out his name and he let out a groan, your arms wrapped around his body, nails digging into his skin as you breathed heavily against the boy.

He looked down at you, kissing your forehead. He wasn’t rough with you this time. He was being sweet, gentle.

He let you adjust to his size, waiting until you nodded until he slowly started to move. His cock slowly pushed against your walls, his hands moved to yours, lacing your fingers with his as he pushed in and out of you, his mouth agape.

His thrusts were slower, while still hitting deep. It was heaven.

“I love you.” He repeated, his hips meeting yours again. “Missed you… so fucking much.” He breathed out after, eyes boring into yours, looking at your face, memorizing every detail, listening to every sound that escaped your pretty lips.

“I got the… sweetest fucking girl on the island, don’t I?” He asked with a crooked smile. You looking back up at him, his words bringing you only closer and closer to that feeling.

His hands went down to your clit, you arching your back and letting out a moan. He rubbed slow circles on the button, you throwing your head back against the pillow.

You felt the pressure build up in your stomach, and he felt you clench down on him. He leaned down, kissing you again.

“Rafe.” You cried out.

“I know, I know baby. Cum for me.” He muttered, that was all you needed for the band to snap. You moaned out his name, and he let out a groan. He came inside of you, his seed painting your walls.

He sighed, pulling out and leaning his forehead against yours.

You started to giggle, causing him to furrow his eyebrows. “What?”

“I love you so much.”

#rafe cameron #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #𓈒♡͙ೃ࿔ asks

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sweetteainthesummerx · 6 months ago

Text

|◁ II ▷| down bad ! |◁ II ▷|

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x famous singer! reader

warnings: fluff, smut is implied but not graphic!! use of y/n.

summary: your sister sends you an article of you and quinn being absolutely down bad for each other...

word count: 2.4 k

notes: saw one too many edits of my handsome boy on TikTok and this is the consequence :) also, this is sort of based off of taylor swift and travis kelce. enjoy!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you're finishing up in the studio, just done tweaking one of your last songs on your new album when your phone dings! with a notification.

it's your sister, who sends a trail of emojis that don't really make sense and a link.

you press on it, confused and assuming it's something she wants for her birthday that's coming up soon.

instead it's an article that reads, TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE.

you laugh, because the cover photo is one of you and quinn from last year when you took him as your plus one to the grammy's. you have to admit, you both look really good, and so, so in love.

so you nestle into your chair to read it.

TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE

one of Hollywood's up and comings, y/n l/n and quinn hughes of canucks and nhl fame have been dating for over three years, and have been public for two. we have complied a list of fan favourite moments of the couple over the span of their relationship that show their deep (and public) affection and love for each other

10. 2023 Grammy's Award Ceremony

picture: you are wearing a light blue floor length gown, hair loose and curled. your makeup is simple and glowy. quinn stands next to you, in a clean, slate grey suit with a hand wrapped around your hip, fingers nestled in the dip of your hipbone.

the award ceremony for the grammy's - where y/n won best album for the second year in a row - was when the famous couple first went public officially, not counting the many paparazzi pictures taken in both vancouver and Los Angeles.

sources show that the two could hardly keep their hands off of each other. they were seen kissing multiple times through out the night.

it was true, quinn had been extra handsy that night, and had all but ripped that dress off of you when you got back to the hotel. you sigh at the memory, stomach warm and a little achy. you can't wait for him to come back from the roadie he left for only two days ago.

9. y/n's tiktoks

despite their massive success in their respective industries, it is easy to forget that they are also part of gen z. y/n's TikTok page features fashion, her music and most popular of all, her boyfriend. here are only some of her most viewed and liked videos:

video one: you smile into the camera, fluffing your hair in a close shot. the subtitles read: fit check with my bf! quinn pulls you against him by your waist, kissing your face over and over as you laugh, pushing at his chest. over the song, you tell him to let go so you can show your outfits. he lets go reluctantly but holds your hand, spinning you around to show off your sundress. then he grabs you and dips you low, hands dangerously close to your ass, as you giggle into his cheek.

video two: the video is taken by one of your friends who took your phone. she's on the couch and you and quinn are in the kitchen cooking for the small get together in your vancouver apartment. you lean up to smile at him, and he bumps his nose with yours. some trending love song plays in the back.

you flush at the comments gushing about how he looks at you, the height difference and how cute you guys are. there's something so sweet at seeing the two of you from an outsiders perspective.

8. quinn knowing y/n's entire discography

during media days, one interview has elias petterson and quinn hughes guessing songs and the artists. the journalist managed to sneak at least four of y/n's songs in, quinn getting all four correct, with the full name of the song, name of artist and then album, all under 10 seconds of the song playing. now that's a supportive boyfriend!

you watch the video linked, your boyfriend sweaty and hair wet. the media person is impressed, and quinn just shrugs bashfully and offers a crooked smile. you look at the time stamp and bite a grin: it's from before you guys went public. no wonder all of your fans say you guys were obvious.

7. quinn hughes: nhl player and personal bodyguard

fame in hollywood forces many in the industry to have body guards, and y/n is not exempt. for many years before she started dating the canuck's defensemen, she's had many bodyguards following her around. now, it seems like her boyfriend has taken over that job.

video: your body guard, john moves to open the limo door as you and quinn arrive to an event, but your boyfriend crosses from his side of the car to open it himself, patting john on the shoulder and gently pushing him from the entrance and helping you out himself. he helps you balance on your heels as you stand and wave at the cameras, one hand on your waist as he maneuvers you to the other side of the sidewalk so he can block you from the cars. he keeps your hand cradled in his, his other arm around your waist as he shoulders through the paparazzi.

quinn looks so attractive and so masculine in this video. you've never had boyfriends who took princess treatment so seriously, but quinn has always been a defender, on ice and off. it was a little awkward and it took a long a while for him to get you, but ever since he had you, he's made sure he tried his very best to keep and protect you.

6. getaway in hawaii

although the couple hasn't had any announcement of engagement yet, early last year they were sighted in hawaii on a trip eerily like a honeymoon: here are some pictures.

picture one: you're in a tiny pink bikini and he's in board shorts. he's taken off his hat to give to you, and you're pressing on a pair of your too-small sunglasses onto his face while both of you laugh.

picture two: the two of you are standing in the water up to your calves. he's got his fingers tangled in the strings of your bikini bottoms, and yours are on his chest as the two of you look into the horizon.

picture three: quinn has you balanced on his shoulder, smiling as you clutch at his back. one of his forearms is possessively covering your ass from the camera, and his other hand is wrapped fully around your ankle to give you a semblance of balance.

you still smile every time you think of that trip, afternoons playing in the water, romantic dinners and nights with his head between your legs, your fingers tangled in his hair. you silently remind yourself to book a vacation back there the next time both of you are free.

5. the NHL award ceremony

the recent NHL award ceremony when quinn hughes received the James Norris award for his skills as a defenceman gave us another peek into y/n's relationship with hughes family.

video one: you're sitting between quinn and luke in your pretty dark blue gown. your hair is pulled back from your face the way quinn likes. he's got an arm thrown over the back of the seat, fingers rubbing your shoulder as you talk to Luke about his hair routine. quinn murmurs something the camera can't catch into your ear and you laugh, tucking your hand into the his that's resting on his lap. he leans back, stretching his legs as you absentmindedly rub his knee, leaning over his brothers to talk to his mom.

video two: his name is called, and you stand with him, clapping loudly. he hugs you first, and you press a kiss into the corner of his lip, but he plants a firm, real one on yours. your manicured, white nails contrast against the black expanse of his suit and broad back. you push him gently towards luke. when he's finished hugging everyone and comes back down the aisle, you quickly fix his tie and smooth down his lapels. he kisses your cheek again and goes down to the stage.

photo three: the trophy is in the middle, the whole family wrapped together. you're tucked between ellen, the older woman has an arm around your waist and your boyfriend's got is arm slung across you shoulders on you other side, everyone smiling big for the camera.

you still remember ellen and jim insisting that you get in the photo, because "you're practically family anyways," and "it's any day now" that their son proposes to you. the photo is on their fridge, to this day.

4. quinn's y/n shirt

another video from y/n's tiktok. during the christmas season, she spent the holidays with the hughes family. her future brother in law (hopefully), jack hughes got quinn a pretty special present.

video: jack is holding the camera, and it pans to you and quinn. your holding a giant sushi stuffed toy (long story) from luke on your lap as you sit next to your boyfriend.

"here," he extends a hand holding a bag to his older brother.

Quinn smiles in thanks and digs into it, retrieving shirt. but it's no ordinary shirt. it's one of those old, retro looking ones with your face blown out all over it.

pictures from red carpets, your album covers, and in gaudy, shadowy text, it reads: IF LOST, RETURN TO Y/N L/N.

Luke cackles as you bury your face in quinn's shoulder. he's letting out a deep, belly laugh as his parents smile and take pictures of it when he holds it out.

he immediately pulls off his sweatshirt and tugs the shirt on. it fits a little tight.

"merry christmas!" jack yells as he gives you a high-five.

he still wears that stupid shirt around the apartment, just because he knows you like the fit and your face plastered all over his chest.

3. y/n's songs about her boyfriend

through many new releases, we have determined a list of songs about quinn from her new album, lover.

sweet nothing

paper rings

lover

daylight

I think he knows

afterglow

good looking

wow, you think. these people must not have lives if they're rummaging through your digital footprint and media presence with your boyfriend just to link them with your songs.

2. quinn's interview

since the couple has gone public, y/n has been seen at Canuck's games with family and friends. since she's from vancouver, born and raised, she is passionate about hockey and fits right in.

video one: the jumbotron flashes your face an name; you're wearing quinn's canucks jersey, hair loose. you smile and flutter your fingers at the crowd that's going crazy. one the ice, quinn's teammates jostle and holler at him, and you blow him a kiss. he pretends to catch it, and the screaming in the stadium reaches a new level as the screen pans to him: he's pink and all smiley.

video two: the ref makes a call and you stand, throwing your hands up in the air, exasperated. you huff, sitting back down with your head in your hands. your friends watch on with disappointment, and the three of you let out complains.

video three: quinn grins while looking off camera in the middle of an interview, and the journalist laughs.

"your girl?" he asks, and quinn nods shyly.

"yeah, it's real nice to see her here supporting. I mean, she's really busy too with her tours, but it's nice to have her on my turf."

"I saw! she got really riled up for the penalty during the second period. she's wearing your jersey as well."

"yeah," he scratches his neck, scrunching his nose to hide the big ass smile on his face, "she looks great, eh?"

"glad to see her in her hometown, too."

"right. yeah, I love her so much."

you snicker at how love sick he looks, because early on in the relationship he followed you around like a clingy, lost puppy. he still does sometimes after a roadie or one of your tours. you love it.

1. karma is the guy on the rink, coming straight home to me

the internet broke when y/n changed one of the songs on her song list for her tour last year at rogers arena in vancouver: instead of "karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me", which is a reference to her ex, she changes it to better fix her new romance.

video: you dance through the song, your backup dancers clueless as you reach the line.

"karma is the guy on the rink, comin' straight home to me!" your voice breaks a little in a giggle at the end, your dancers shocked laughter and gasps visible from their faces that even an iPhone camera from 25 meters away can catch.

video two: quinn's in the tent with your parents and some of his teammates and their girlfriends, all of them are vibing to the music and dancing, most holding drinks in their hands.

when the line hits the speakers, everyone is screaming so loud and filming him, and he blushes so red that it spreads to his ears and neck, even in the dim light. his boys are slapping his back, and your dad gives him a high-five. he just smiles at you, dopey and deliriously happy in his shirt of your face and the 20 friendship bracelets your fans had made for him.

you remember that show perfectly, and the night after even better. you barely got any sleep because of his attentions, and your makeup artists spent nearly half an hour covering up the bruises on your neck and chest the next morning.

all in all, we can come to the conclusion that quinn hughes and y/n l/n are completely down bad for each other, like she teased in the song list of her unreleased album. we only hope for good things in the future for this famous couple!

you smile at the closing statement, sending it to quinn to read later in his hotel room.

he facetimes you that night, hair wet and eyes sleepy.

"that article was absolutely right. I am so down bad for you." he tells you seriously, with the promise of lots of love when he comes straight home to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

2K notes · View notes

wttcsms · 2 months ago

Text

talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after narrowly avoiding a kaiju attack unharmed, you think you’ve gotten away unscathed until you start feeling an unfamiliar, unsatiable heat building inside of you. it’s almost similar to the funny butterflies you get in your tummy when you see your older brother’s rival, third division vice captain soshiro hoshina. and wouldn’t you know it: you just so happen to cross paths with him. ( fem!reader )

pairing soshiro hoshina x reader word count 4.8k content contains soft dom!hoshina, slight love confessions, narumi's younger + civilian sister!reader, creampie, forbidden romance-ish, you two get caught by narumi in the end, sex pollen, biting (please look at hoshina's lil fangs & tell me he ISN'T a biter) kinktober masterlist

You’re in trouble.

Gen always said you had a knack for getting yourself into situations. You always got in trouble back in school because one student would act up and make a mess, escaping in time, leaving you as the only person for the teacher to catch. Or, someone would break something in a store, and you’d be the unsuspecting customer to happen to walk down the aisle the same time the manager comes by to investigate. In a pay-it-forward chain, you naturally get stuck in front of the person with a 10-people group order, and you’ve always been too kindhearted (and people pleasing) to break the chain…

Needless to say, it isn’t that you have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. It’s just that you always happen to find yourself at the wrong place at the wrong time.

In your defense, your neighborhood isn’t just relatively safe — it’s as safe as can be. Gen’s the one who vetted it out for you in the first place, still a little annoyed that his little sister wants to play at being independent. Do you know how dangerous it is for a young woman to live alone in this city? He told you, before complaining that you’re one of the biggest headaches in his life.

He says this, but he’s the one who patrolled your neighborhood for the two weeks leading up to you moving in. He’s the one who scaled the apartment complex and made sure the security measures were up to par. He’s the one who accessed all records of nearby kaiju attacks and took in the statistical data with careful consideration before finally agreeing that you could live here. You know your older brother cares. It’s why you always try to practice caution in your everyday life. The last thing you want is to be an inconvenience for him.

This, you think nervously, goes a bit beyond a mere inconvenience.

Right in front of the gates of your well-protected, super-safe luxury apartment complex is a kaiju.

And while you and Gen might share the same genes, there are some differences between you and your older brother. The most important one right now being the fact that while he’s the captain of the First Division in the Defense Force, you’re just a civilian.

A civilian who always finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You’re not sure how long the monster’s been here, nor are you going to bother sticking around to find out. You have no clue when the Defense Force is going to dispatch, and you happen to be the only unlucky soul outside right now. The kaiju’s already detected your presence, and you fumble for the bracelet on your wrist, searching desperately for the emergency button on the wristband. Gen had gotten this custom-made for you. The minute you activate the button, Gen’s notified of your location. It’s an in-case-of-emergency-only, and you’ve never felt the need to use it before. Until now.

You take a few steps back, almost stumbling on the pavement, palming at your bracelet, letting out a sigh of relief as you find the tiny button. And then your heart drops as you realize just how bad your luck is.

The button’s jammed.

Because of course it would be.

Because you just always have to constantly be in trouble, don’t you?

The last thing you can think about before your impending doom is that you hope Gen won’t be too upset. Everyone thinks your older brother is childish and sometimes hard to deal with, but you know him best. If only you were a bit more like him; maybe then you wouldn’t feel so resigned to your fate.

“[Name]? Whaddya doin’?” Casually dropping by — no, literally dropping onto the pavement — is none other than Third Division Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina.

On one hand, you’re happy he’s here. You are definitely not dying today. On the other hand… Why did it have to be him of all people? It’s one thing to have a near-death experience, but to have it in front of your longtime crush? You honestly wished the kaiju got a hit on you. Nothing fatal; just enough to have you in a coma, or better yet, turn you into an amnesiac so you never have to relive this moment in your memories.

“H-Hoshina?” You squeak out. He gives you a concerned look before turning all of his attention to the kaiju, brandishing his swords in one swift, fluid movement.

You’ve seen footage of Hoshina fighting before, even going out of your way to search up news footage of the Third Division’s missions just to catch a glimpse of the Vice Captain. You’re used to the way Gen fights; hard and fast, sometimes a bit flashy. He’s hard to miss when he’s hauling his almost cartoonishly big bayonet attached to his massive rifle. Maybe it’s crush bias, but you admire the way Hoshina fights. With him, he’s all lithe muscle and agility. There’s a sort of beauty to the way he fights, moving like a dancer, every arc and stroke of his twin blades purposeful.

Despite the size of the beast in front of you, a muscular mass of pink and purple flesh, Hoshina makes quick work of it. So quick, in fact, that he doesn’t think to consult the command and support center as he digs his blades into its body, landing fatal cuts that take down the kaiju—

—and allowing its massive body to emit a strange violet gas that quickly starts to spread all over the scene. The scent of it is sickeningly sweet, and it overwhelms you.

Eyes wide, Hoshina sprints to your side, tugging at his own mask as if he’s about to force you to put it on, but you shake your head. You’re coughing, inhaling the mysterious vapor the now-dead kaiju is emitting, but you feel fine enough to start walking to the gate of your apartment.

“Fuck.” Hoshina curses, rushing to your side, gripping your left arm as you finish punching in the gate code. “Hey, are you hurt anywhere? D’you feel weird, funny, anything?”

His concern for you is making you feel embarrassed, but it’s not like that’s the answer he’s searching for.

“I’m fine, really.” You force a smile. “I’m safe now, all thanks to you. I’m sure Gen’s going to have a lot to say about this.” You roll your eyes, trying to lighten the mood, but Hoshina’s red eyes are staring deep into your own. He’s not laughing. In fact, this is one of the rare moments where you’ve ever seen the Vice Captain so serious.

“Let me walk ya up to your apartment, at least. Just in case somethin’ happens.”

You want to tell him that you’re pretty sure there’s no other kaijus lurking around in the hallway of your complex, ready to strike, but you can tell he’s stubborn. And besides, later at night, when you’re all alone and falling asleep to fantasies about a world where Soshiro Hoshina likes you just as much as you like him, you’ll romanticize the fuck out of him being so concerned for your safety.

Because at the end of the day, it’s Hoshina’s job to protect the defenseless citizens like you. He’d do this for any other person who has bad luck like you. It’s not like he’s walking you back, concerned for your safety, purely because it’s you.

Following your string of bad luck is the fact that the elevators are currently out of order. Fantastic.

You turn to him. “Um, I don’t really think walking up almost a dozen flight of stairs is in your job description. You can just leave me here, really! I’ll even call my brother, just in case you think something bad might happen to me in the five minutes you leave me alone.”

“Don’t be silly, Junior.” This time, Hoshina does flash you his normal, teasing smile. The one that you fell head over heels for back on the primary school playground. The gesture is enough to make you almost ignore the way he brings up that stupid nickname. Junior. Narumi Junior — that’s who you are to him. His rival’s annoying little sister, always faithfully trailing behind her older brother, never saying a word when Gen starts throwing insults his way. “Just ‘cause I’m not captain of the First Division doesn’t mean I can’t handle a few flight of stairs. Ya doubtin’ me?”

You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. Hoshina’s just being nice, you tell yourself. And you have to keep repeating this mantra in your head as you dutifully follow a step behind him on the stairs.

You’ve noticed it before, but you’ve never been this close up ‘til now. Hoshina’s uniform fits him very well. The black fabric of the suit only serves to emphasize the lean muscles he’s spent years training, his Defense Force-issued boots only serve to announce every step he takes, even the gas mask he wears to protect himself — all of it just suits him so well.

You try to ignore the flicker of heat lighting up your core, something a little bit more intense than the little flutter of butterflies you normally get when you’re next to Hoshina. You just have to make it back to your apartment, you reason. You’ll make it back to your apartment, and you can lay down on your bed, and then you’ll have all the time in the world to think about how nice Hoshina looks in his uniform, and how special you feel that he’s personally escorting you home.

But the growing heat within you becomes harder to ignore, and you can’t quite control your labored breaths, not from the walk upstairs but from the fact that you truly do feel hot. Hot, and dizzy, and downright desperate for some relief. Something isn’t right, you realize. And Hoshina catches on quick, too, especially when your knees buckle and you nearly fall until he catches you in his arms.

He says your name so seriously, you’re almost snapped out of whatever weird daze you’re in. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” His eyes scan your weakened body before pulling you closer to him. In a second, he’s lifting you up, carrying you bridal style as he starts to sprint up the stairs. You know there’s a time and place for everything, but you can’t help but admire the fact that Hoshina can carry you while running up several stories and he’s not even breaking a sweat.

The thought of this makes your core grow warmer, and you wriggle a bit in his hold.

“We’re almost to your apartment, don’t worry.” He reassures you, tightening his grip on you. Hoshina is holding you so close to him that with every inhale, you breathe him in. He smells of musky cologne and something familiar from your childhood, like mochi and other sweets. It’s a funny mix, but it suits him. You find yourself snuggling even closer to him, and if you were in your right state of mind, you would be screaming at yourself for being so bold. But the heat inside of you, it’s seeking him out.

“I need your key, [Name].” He tells you, and despite the way he’s clearly in a rush, he’s still patient and sweet with you.

You shamelessly bury the front of your face into his chest, trying to avoid him as you admit, “I must’ve dropped it.”

He swears, but it’s not at you. “That’s okay.” He tells you, even though you’re proving to be a very inconvenient girl. “Hey, who pays for this apartment?”

“Gen.” You sheepishly admit. You offered to pay the rent, but he’s the one who chose the insanely expensive penthouse for you. One of you is making a Captain-level salary, and it’s damn sure not you. It only makes sense he’d cover rent.

“Good.” Hoshina says, before promptly kicking open your door.

And again, time and place for everything, but you can’t help but get a little too excited at his show of strength.

Hoshina sets you down gently on your bed, frowning as he takes you in.

“What’s the matter? You need to tell me how you’re feelin’, or else I can’t help you, okay?”

Hoshina’s being so gentle with you, it’s enough to make your heart soar and ache all at once. He leans down, pressing a cool hand to your forehead. You must feel normal enough, because he doesn’t make a comment, even though you feel like you’re burning up.

You know what’s the matter.

You want Soshiro Hoshina in a way a woman wants a man.

“...hot…” You finally mutter out, squirming on top of your sheets. “I‘m hot.”

“Hot?” Hoshina’s confused for a few seconds, until he watches the way you press your thighs together, your tiny fingers tugging at your clothes, the way you bite down on the bottom of your lip before peering up at him curiously, trying to see if he understands you.

It hits him all at once. A kaiju that’s a blend of pink and purple, the sweet scent its gas emitted. This is a rare type of kaiju; the one that boosts one’s pheromones, turns its victim delirious with lust. The only way to help, really, is for the affected person to be truly satiated.

He knows it’s wrong to think of Narumi’s little sister like this, but Hoshina would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about you writhing on a bed, wantonly calling out his name, begging for him to give you relief that you can’t find from anyone else. He dreams about it, really. Not just the sex, but everything that encompasses taking care of you. He wants to make sure that you’re always well taken care of, always safe, always protected. This isn’t the Third Divison’s territory, y’know. But between patrol breaks, Hoshina finds himself around your neighborhood just on the off chance that something bad happens. It’s a good thing he was there today.

And it’s his lucky day, he thinks, that he’s here with you now.

No other man would treat you as well. No other man would be able to satiate you.

“Let me help you, baby.” The pet name rolls off easily on his tongue. He’s so used to teasing you, careful to avoid saying your name too much. He saves his reverent groans of your name for when he’s pumping his cock in the darkness of his room. “I know exactly what you need.”

“Hoshina.” You moan out, and he swallows hard at how desperate you sound for him. “I need you so bad.”

“It’s the kaiju.” He mutters, getting on the bed with you, balancing himself on his knees. He’s towering over you from this angle, and you look up at him. “The kaiju’s gas acts as a… bit of a sex pollen, really. And I can help ya combat the effects, but I— I can’t take advantage of ya. You’re Narumi’s precious lil’ sister. It’d be wrong.” He’s trying to talk some sense, but you’re immediately frowning.

“Nuh uh.” You whine out, pouting. And it’s thanks to the kaiju that you have lowered your inhibitions, because you would never admit this out loud otherwise. “I always want Vice Captain Hoshina like this.”

Fuck. You know just how to drive a man crazy.

“Usin’ my title?” He grins, leaning down to get his face closer to yours. “Good girl. Ya mind your manners, don’t ya?”

And he rewards you with a kiss.

The kiss turns hungry, desperate. You’re tilting your head up a bit to try to capture his lips some more, even though the two of you are already as close as can be. You two are a mess of tongue and teeth by the time you have to struggle for oxygen, and as he reluctantly pulls back, there’s even a thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you.

“So, ya always wanted me, huh?” The thought that the girl of his dreams could possibly want him as much as he wants her turns him on like nothing else. He must be dreaming, he decides. And then he thinks, he doesn’t fucking care if this is a dream or not. If he gets to fuck you boneless, then he trusts in himself to never wake up. “Whaddya like about me so much?”

He’s just teasing you now. He’s always teasing you. It’s what he’s good at. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you shyly admit, “I’ve always liked you. Even before you got the fancy uniform and your rank. You’re funny and sweet and you care about others.” Even in your sex-focused mind, the genuine feelings you harbor for Hoshina shine through. This catches him off guard.

You might be under the effects of the kaiju’s vapor, but the sweet girl he’s fallen for is still laying down right underneath him. It’s not just lust for you. There’s genuine love.

“Fuck, I’m gonna treat you so well.” He peppers kisses all over your face; your cheeks, your eyelids, your jawline, teasing you ‘til he finally, finally, plants a kiss on your swollen lips again.

He makes quick work of your clothes, committing the sight of your bare body to his memory. He tells you you’re beautiful, and he means it. You want to tell him to stop trying to charm you, but then he’s immediately going down on you, digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs as he spreads them apart, forcing you to open yourself up to him.

You’re caught off guard, but your body screams in relief as you watch Hoshina get eye-level with your cunt. He licks his lips before glancing up at you.

“Such a cute pussy my lil’ civvie baby has.” Civvie — Hoshina never lets you forget that you’re a civilian, but you don’t know it yet (you will, eventually), but Hoshina’s never actually been bothered about this fact. Actually, he takes pride in the idea that he’ll be the one to take care of you, the one to keep you safe.

Right now, though, he’s tasked with being the one who makes sure you’re satiated.

You have the prettiest pussy Hoshina’s ever, and as his mouth descends onto your waiting heat, he determines that you’ve got the sweetest taste, too. You let out cute, little mewls that only motivate him to devour you some more, and he groans into your pussy as he laps at your arousal, your juices seeming to never stop flowing.

Your body arches up, and Hoshina has to apply pressure to his grip on your thighs, to force you back down so he can continue licking at your cunt at his own hungry pace. When bucking your hips fails, you find yourself losing control of your body, your legs spasming, your thighs clamping down on his head. Your fingers tangle themselves into the thick, dark strands of Hoshina’s hair, and he thinks you’re trying to suffocate him with your pussy.

What a way to go, honestly.

He manages to lift his head up, cheeks flushed from the heat in between your thighs, chin and lips wet with your juices. “Ahh.” He smacks his lips, licking up traces of your slick that his tongue can reach. “My civvie has the sweetest pussy in the world.” He inserts a finger into your wet hole, and you literally yelp. Your walls hungrily clamp down on his single digit, and he laughs.

“D’ya want more?” He sounds innocent enough, almost as if he isn’t leisurely fucking you with one finger. “‘Cause I can give ya more. All ya have to do is ask.”

“Pl-ease.” The word comes out in broken syllables. You clutch at his bicep, nails digging into the material of his combat suit. It’s because he still has his uniform on that he can’t really feel you.

“Who are ya askin’?” He teases, pumping his finger at the same agonizingly slow pace he’s been giving you. You keep clenching around him, your body making it obvious who you’re hungry for.

“I-I’m asking Vice Captain Hos— Soshiro.”

You say his title, and he feels himself tightening in his combat suit. You say his name, and his heart nearly skips a beat.

Oh, he’ll give you everything he’s got, now.

The intrusion of three fingers inside your cunt catches you off guard, and he swallows up that shocked moan of yours by slotting his mouth against yours, kissing you with a vigorous passion that has you realizing that maybe Soshiro just might like you back.

He spreads his fingers while they’re buried deep inside your cunt, trying to desperately stretch out your pussy, get you nice and wet and ready to take his cock.

“Ah! Wait! No, ‘Shiro, please!” You protest as he pulls his fingers out, licking and savoring the taste of your essence. You were about to cum, and he knew it.

He plants a rather chaste kiss on your forehead before telling you, “You hafta ask me to cum, okay? Can my little civvie baby get that in her head?”

You nod weakly, sniffling a bit as you’re disappointed from your stolen orgasm.

“Hey,” he taps on your cunt gently, but with just enough firm pressure to make you understand you have to look at him, to listen to his commands. “When your Vice Captain tells ya somethin’, ya need to answer. Where’s my baby’s manners?”

“S-sorry, Vice Captain.” You look up at him, teary-eyed. “Can I please cum?”

“Aw, you’re askin’ me so sweetly, it’s hard to say no to you.” But from the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, it’s clear what his answer is. “But today, you’re only gonna be able to cum all over my cock.”

Hoshina makes no effort to take off his clothes fully. The uniform that you admire him in is only being pulled out of the way rather than completely off. Hoshina messes with the bottom half, pulling at the suit until he can free his cock. He’s already hard, and he pumps his cock a few times, using the fingers covered in his spit and your slick to act as lube.

“See how hard your Vice Captain is? My little civvie got me all fired up.” There’s a feral, crazed look in his eyes as he stares down at you, at how your legs are spread and your pussy is so wet. “This is what you wanted the whole time, huh? You wanted to be stuffed full of my cock. Poor baby.” His tone is mocking, but it only makes your hole clench at nothing. You’re so heartbreakingly empty of him that you’ll do anything to make sure he gives you what he promised. “I know, you must be all hot and bothered right now. Pussy so empty, waitin’ for me, huh?”

You nod, tears streaming down your face. Hoshina chuckles at the sight. He hasn’t even fucked you properly yet, and you’re already a mess. Fuck, he loves you so much.

When he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, your pussy is instantly swallowing him up, greedy for more of him. So he gives in, because the two of you have clearly been wanting and waiting for this for so long, why bother dragging it out any further?

“A-ah.” Your legs are trembling as your pussy engulfs more and more of Hoshina’s thick cock. “It’s too big.” You whine out, more tears falling as you take him in completely, his whole entire cock buried deep inside of you, throbbing impatiently, insisting that he pins you down and fucks you hard and fast.

“It’ll be okay.” He reassures you, rubbing comforting circles on your hip. “I’ll make ya feel so good. Ya just gotta relax for me, baby. Remember? You’re the one who wanted this so badly.” He coos, moving his hand to rub at your clit, the little nub hardening for him. “Good girl, atta girl, that’s my precious civvie. Doin’ so good for me; I knew you would.” He praises you when he feels you start to move your hips a bit, begging for movement now, and he kisses your cheek when he feels your pussy yielding to his cock. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby.”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“You feel so good.” He grunts this directly in your ear, which rewards him with a cute little whimper from you, and the feel of your pussy clamping down on him, tightening and preening at the praise. He’s holding himself up by his elbows, his face so close to your own as he fucks you, just like how he promised he would. It’s sweetly intimate this way, and you love it. He can tell.

“Your pussy feels so good around my cock. So tight. So fuckin’ wet.” His thrusts are deep, powerful. His cock seems to reach into the depths of your pussy, and you don’t think you’ll ever recover. You don’t think you want to.

You curl your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer to you. Your string of moans and broken sobs of his name haven’t stopped flowing from your lips, and the pleasure is so overwhelming, so good, so Hoshina. You don’t realize what he’s planning on doing until it’s too late. He licks at the soft skin between your shoulder and neck, deciding which spot he wants to mark up first, before taking his sharp canines, the ones you love so much, and digging them deep into your flesh.

“Ah!” The pain bleeds in with the pleasure. The sting of his bite is heightened when he nuzzles your neck with his nose endearingly, almost as an apology, before he bites down in a different spot. Marking his territory.

It feels so good in such a foreign way, you forget what your Vice Captain told you. If you want to cum, you have to ask. But he’s making you feel so good, your climax comes without warning. Your walls tighten up around him, and he can feel you, can feel you creaming around his cock like the dirty, disobedient girl you are.

“What did I tell ya?” He growls, looking down at where the two of you are connected. He pulls out a bit, just to stare at the ring of white encircling his cock. “Hm?” He takes a hand to grab at your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Is my little civvie so fucked dumb her brain doesn’t work anymore? I thought I told ya that if you wanted to cum, you better ask my permission.”

“I’m s-sorry!” You gasp out. “B-but you made me feel… Felt too good, I didn’t know I was going to!” You’re crying again now, and he almost feels bad. Instead, he likes this power he has over you, and he’s back to being his usual, teasing and mocking self.

“Aw, did I break you?” He coos sweetly, pounding into your pussy with a fervor he hasn’t exhibited before. Your eyes widen when you realize he still has on his combat suit. He’s drawing out his strength from the suit, using it to fuck into you even harder. “S’okay, baby. No need to cry. I’m not mad at ya.”

His hips stutter when he’s ready to finish. His thrusts falter in its usual pinpoint precise movements, and he drags your body towards him, pushing you deep onto his cock as he groans out your name. The heat of his cum fills your twitching, sensitive cunt, and you think you could probably cum again just from the pleasure of having Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina fill you up.

“Ah, fuck.” He breathes out, leaning his forehead against your own, panting a bit, his chest rising and falling. “You drive me crazy, ya know that?”

You let out a weak giggle, equally breathless. Your mind feels a lot clearer now, the heat within you subsiding greatly. You wrap your legs around his slim waist, refusing to let him go even though he refuses to leave you in the first place. He looks like he’s about to say something until a familiar, booming voice comes from the front of your apartment.

“[Name]?” Gen calls out, his footsteps indicating that he’s coming closer. “[Name], where are you?”

Your eyes widen in shock and fear, the cute afterglow of the moment officially ruined, all thanks to your annoying older brother. Hoshina is quick when he pulls the covers of your bed over your naked body, and he’s adjusting his combat suit as Gen makes it to your bedroom.

You shut your eyes, not wanting to witness the expression on your brother’s face.

“Oh, Narumi.” Hoshina says brightly. “Funny runnin’ into you here.”

#soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #kn8 x you #hoshina smut #smut #drabble #one shot #imagine #hoshina soshirou #kn8 smut #kinktober 2024 #hoshina soushirou x reader #hoshina soushirou

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solaireverie · 9 months ago

Text

op81 | best he'll ever write

summary: [ author!oscar piastri x f!driver!reader — social media au ] being the partner and muse of a celebrated author means that fans start connecting the dots sooner rather than later

faceclaim: gracie abrams

author’s note: i'm secretly a ya romcom book girlie and i feel like that shows SO MUCH in this fic 🙈 delusional for life!

[ masterlist / guidelines / lola's masterlist / series masterlist ]

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, liakblock and 534,230 others

geotag: melbourne, australia

yourusername short break down under 🐨

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user great race at the australian gp y/n!

↪ user first points of the season let's goooo

↪ yourusername and hopefully many more to come 🙌

logansargeant STRAYAAA 🦘🇦🇺🦘🇦🇺

↪ yourusername VEGEMITE ON TOAST 🤤

↪ user sometimes i forget that logan and y/n are both gen z 😂

user the puppy is so adorable 🥺

↪ user i wonder whose it is 👀 y/n's said that her schedule doesn't allow for pets

oscarpiastri not my birthday cake...

↪ yourusername sorry not sorry 😉

↪ user who the hell is oscar piastri and why is y/n replying to his comment 😭

↪ user don't you talk about my favourite best-selling author like that 🤺

oscarpiastri has added to their story

seen by yourusername, logansargeant, jennyhan and 124,203 others

you replied to oscarpiastri's story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 3,393,210 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername can't believe that little kid is now a 3-time nyt best-selling author 🥹 so proud of you oscarpiastri 💗 i haven't been able to put eighty-one seconds down 📖 available in bookstores near you!

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user i love how y/n always supports and promotes oscar's books 🥺

↪ user they're so adorable together my heart can't take it

oscarpiastri Thanks for the encouragement. Couldn't have done it without you 👍

↪ yourusername damn right you couldn't have 😤

user okay but who took the photo of y/n 👀

↪ user i'm betting it was oscar 😜

↪ user hello what 😳😳😳

↪ user oh my sweet summer child...

liked by yourusername, hachetteaus, johngreenwritesbooks and 293,192 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Thank you to everyone who's been on this journey with me. Eighty-One Seconds is finally yours and we can't be more happy to share it with you. As many of you have guessed, it is my homage to Y/N and all the time we have spent together. My wife, my love, my heart. I'm grateful that you're in my life. Forgive me for re-using my words, but here's to eighty-one more years together.

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user hold on a damn second 🤚 his WIFE??? when was this a thing 🧐

↪ yourusername 🤭

↪ user give us answers please 🙏 i haven't had peace since oscar posted this

yourusername i love you too, oscar jack piastri 🤍

↪ user oh he literally named his mc after himself 😭

↪ user GOODBYE??? JACK AS IN HIS MIDDLE NAME??? oh my god they really weren't subtle

williamsracing signed copy when 😏

↪ hachetteaus already on its way 🫡

user honestly i'm surprised they managed to hide their relationship for this long 💀

↪ user oh they did NOT we were just blind

↪ logansargeant I didn't find out until I got the wedding invitation in the mail 🤝

↪ landonorris i think that's just cause you're oblivious mate 😂

↪ logansargeant what???

↪ landonorris they literally make out all the time in williams hospitality

↪ yourusername lando... 😒

user if your man isn't writing a book professing his love for you, what's he doing with his life?

↪ user oscar's set the standard 😌

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads @misartymis @c-losur3

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

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iluvloganhowlett · 5 months ago

Note

Feel free to reject this request since it’s kinda heavy, but maybe Hugh kissing the reader’s sh scars but it’s like friends to lovers? Preferably f reader but gen is fine too

YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL ❀˖°

in which logan draws stars around your scars

warnings: HEAVY MENTIONS OF SH⚠️⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS IS A TOPIC YOU CANNOT HANDLE, angst, blood

i actually love this request as someone who struggles w sh themselves so pls don’t be afraid to ask smt like this!

i also switched it to logan instead of hugh bc i feel like he just fits the part better and this isn’t friends to lovers it’s just lovers😭 sorry

“you drew stars around my scars. but now im bleeding.”

you couldn’t help it, the burning sensation of the blood dripping down over your old scars was a feeling you couldn’t resist.

for 2 years now you’ve told yourself that you’d stop, thay you’d get better. especially since logan came around and made you want to get better. but you couldn’t, no matter how hard you tried.

more sooner than later did the tears of guilt and regret begin pooling your eyes, the hot liquid dripping down your face as you held the cold towel to your wrist harder.

you knew logan would be up here any minute; his class was coming to an end soon. the last thing you needed was him walking in on you cutting yourself after you told him you’d stop.

you took a deep breath, drying your wrist and slapping a few bandaids on it before looking at yourself in the mirror; you were a mess. your face was flushed, covered in streaks of dried tears as the new ones kept coming. your hair was a ruffled mess, you were drowning in your hoodie and fuck did your wrist burn.

“y/n/n?” you heard from afar, shit. surely logan was in your bedroom, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom.

you sighed, praying that your voice would be strong. “i’m in here, just a minute!” you called out, cursing yourself for your voice cracking at the last second.

immediately logan’s concern grew higher, slowly approaching the door and leaning his head against it. your nervous sobs were hard to miss, especially from right against the door.

“y/n,” logan called firmly, “open the door f’me please.”

your eyes widened, noticing how logan’s voice grew louder. it didn’t take you long to pick up on how close logan was to you.

“i can’t,” your voice cracked, you looked down at your hands that shook rapidly, afraid of what was to come.

logan’s brows furrowed, he’d had enough. you heard one of his claws retract as he picked the lock.

quickly, you took out your box, shoving your blade into it and throwing it god knows where into the drawer just before logan barged in.

“are you okay in here?” he asked, glancing down at your exposed wrist, covered in bandaids.

you followed his eyes, yours widening when you noticed you forgot to roll down your sleeve.

logan felt like he could physically feel the pit growing in his stomach, realizing what you had done. logan had never understood why you chose to hurt yourself like this. but he did understand what it was like to endure so much pressure and emotion that you don’t know how to contain it. and so he never screamed, or yelled, or frankly even asked ‘why?,’ because not everyone has a ‘why.’

your tears were flowing once more as you moved closer to logan, “i’m sorry,” you sobbed, burying yourself in his arms.

he immediately welcomed you, wrapping his strong

arms around your shoulders, rocking you back and forth in hopes to calm you down.

he looks down at you, his own eyes glossed over slightly, he hates seeing you like this, especially when he knows he can’t do anything about it.

soon logan loosens his grip, reaching gently for your left wrist and bringing it up to his lips, planting a soft and gentle kiss on one of your old scars.

“my baby,” he mutters, kissing another one while ensuring he leaves your fresh one alone, “my sweet baby.”

you can do nothing but sob harder. you’d expected numerous reactions out of logan but this definitely wasn’t one of them.

“i love you,” kiss. “i’ll always love you, doll.” kiss. “y’know that? i’ll never stop loving you.” kiss.

your eyes dart down as you feel a drop of water on your wrist as logan continues kissing up and down your arm.

he was crying.

his confidence wavers, “you’re beautiful,” kiss. “so, so beautiful,” his voice begins to crack as he leans a head down on your shoulder.

logan takes a deep breath before dropping your wrists and instead taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “you’re always gonna be beautiful t’me, alright? the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.”

it was the first time you’d ever seen logan cry this hard, the hot tears pouring down his face at an unbelievable pace. you’d be a monster to say this didn’t make you tear up in the slightest.

you place your hands on his wrists, his hands still holding onto your face. slowly he leans in, closing the space between you two. kissing you in such a gentle, loving way that it makes your legs feel weak.

“i love you, logan.”

“you’re beautiful, peach.”

this is so sad☹️

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod @seamlessepiphany @withafoll @lulawantmula @gigachadcowboy

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wonfilms · 11 months ago

Text

enhypen + giving them a hickey

0T7! { warnings: kissing, intense but there's nothing crazy} a/n: this was kinda crazy and very out of my usual writing style but THERES A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING gen: fluff + suggestive

“oh? what’re you getting at doll..?” heeseung’s eyes showed no sign of shyness, instead they glistened with a sort of playfulness as your lips pressed greedily against his neck, your eyelashes gently brushing his skin as your face presses up against it, he curses softly under his breath, “hmm…” your hums reverberated through him too, sending gentle waves of want through his abdomen, butterflies threatening to flood his stomach. he sucks in a breath stroking your hair softly, as a soft groan of appreciation slipped absent-mindedly from his lips, his head gently tilting up, hair splayed across the sheets, giving you even further access to his neck. “you better not leave a mark h..honey…”

“...oh so that’s what’re you’re doing?” jay smirks softly, a gentle blush covering his cheeks as he feels your teeth graze his jawline.. and then your smile oh so “innocent“-ly against his skin.. and he feels a moan slip from his mouth. “oh god” he curses under his breath.. hands tangling gently in your hair as he melts against the pillows.. his hair tousled.. he looks almost vulnerable, jay never looks vulnerable.. except for now.. you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger and all he was doing is letting you work him up, “y..you’re gonna make me go crazy ___ ”

“t..tickles-” jake complains breathily, his teeth trapping his soft bottom lip between them.. Your breath grazed his neck ever so gently it felt like a dream. his head swam with hazy thoughts that he didn’t think he was capable of picturing. it all felt like too much.. his skin was warm against your mouth.. sensitive , as your teeth gently bit down at the sweet spot on his neck that you’d mapped into your head a hundred times over. he cowered under your touch, a vivid warm blush flooding his cheeks, “y..you’re such a little tease”

“d…don’t stop.” sunghoon’s words are barely audible. he’s completely lost, face flushed and body pliable under your gentle touches. your mouth works wonders as you suck soft marks against his pale skin, a physical reflection of your love. he breathes out shakily as your tongue traces little patterns against the sweet spot under his jaw. he watches through lidded eyes as you kiss every little mole and beauty spot on his neck, that’s all he can do.. all he can do is be an utter blushing mess for you.

“y..you better help cover this up later..?” sunoo laughs gently as he feels your gentle lips against his skin, he sucks in a breath letting you kiss his neck almost feather light, it’s almost ticklish… until your press a slightly harder kiss against his adam’s apple, it sent a flash of warmth up to his cheeks, making them rosy. you have the audacity to smirk, it’s cute, he makes a mental note to get you back later as he sighs smiling.. “you’re crazy y’know”

“i… i thought you wanted help with your thesis.. w..what–” jungwon’s eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him cutting his speech off. he hummed softly into the kiss, lips gravitating towards you even when you pull away. he pouts confused before you’re pushing him backwards, his head hits the pillows and his eyes widen as he feels your tongue gently drawing hearts against his neck. a gentle groan leaves his mouth.. it’s like he has something lodged in his throat, the way his tried to swallow down his noises. his head swam as he gripped the sheets. he hears you whisper “just relax” into his ear, lips grazing his lobes. “c…can’t relax when i have you kissing my neck like that..”

“this.. is so gonna leave a damn mark” niki strokes your cheek trying to play it cool as you kiss his neck hungrily, it feels surreal to him, your soft plump lips dragging so damn gently against his skin, your teeth nibbling gently before pulling away, your tongue soothing the temporary sting, his head swam imprinting this feeling right into his memory, he was going to tease you later but for now all he could do was drown himself in the feeling of your kisses.

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boyfhee · 10 months ago

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박성훈 、SECRET NEVER KEPT

sunghoon likes getting detentions.

featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader, highschool au

contents ⋆ kissing, suggestive i mean you can say this went out of hand a little...sunghoon is crazy guys don't try this at school ( 0.78k )

notes ⋆ another rich boy hoon bc it's always on my mind. they should cast him in a drama and make him third gen chaebol heir idk. btw this one is for @atrirose

sunghoon’s lips curl into a subtle smile when he heard footsteps coming towards the classroom. he knows it’s you, he knows your pace, way too familiar with you to not even recognise the faint humming echoing in the hallways.

he chuckles, his smile growing wider as he pushes one of the desks aside. he shakes his head at how easily you make him smile, and you aren’t even in the room. the melody you’re humming gets a bit clearer, and he turns towards the door as you slide it open.

“detention again?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. it’s unfathomable how giddy he looks after getting detention. “it’s pleasing to watch the mayor’s son sweeping the tiles,”

“just a little charity work for school,” he hums jokingly with a shrug, and then he looks up at you, his eyes are soft and just a tad bit crinkled at the edges and his smile is sweet as if an invitation to come and kiss him.

not a whiff of what happens at school reaches his parents because he knows his dad will have anyone who dares point fingers at him lose their job. while his mother is more inclined towards him trying to lay low and mixing into the general public, sunghoon can’t help but stand out.

he likes attention.

he likes it when people talk about him when he walks down the hallways, or when you wink at him from across the room. he liked it when you visited him when he had gotten detention for the very first time, and it’s a routine now. you stay after school for extra lessons and he hates not being able to sneak in a few kisses with you in the storage after school ends. fortunately, detention gives him the perfect excuse to stay.

“charity is nice but this—” you say, pointing at the mop and bucket, walking towards him as he carefully holds your hand so that you don’t slip over the wet tiles. “— doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

and sunghoon laughs, sitting on one of the chairs around, pulling you on his lap. your arms wrap around his shoulders out of habit, and he can’t help but swoon at the way your gaze rests on his lips for a fraction of a second before going back to his eyes. “well you win some and you lose some,”

and he doesn’t really care, honestly. with hands that are made to caress your cheeks and hold you close, he doesn’t really mind if they’re occupied with mopping the floors. just the same way he doesn’t care if his father hears about you and him. with elections ‘round the corner, he will be furious to see his dear son dating the daughter of the opposition.

but when has sunghoon ever cared about what others have to say about you?

“you know, anyone could walk in right now,” you warn quietly, although your actions are contradicting your words as you tilt your head a little, giving him an easier access as he presses his lips against your neck, leaving a trail of slow kisses down and then to your jaw.

he pulls away slightly, taking in the fragrance of your perfume— it’s the one he had gifted you on your birthday, and he likes how irresistible it makes you, as if you aren’t already. “the whole building’s empty,”

“the guards take rounds after school,”

“well, no one will come. and if they do,” he gently tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers drawing random patterns on your thighs, and you can feel your cheeks heat up as he slides his hand a bit further up. “we can put on a little show for them,”

“hoon—” he doesn’t let you say much, simply cutting you off with a kiss. most of the time, it doesn’t fall upon him to be the responsible one in the relationship, but you’re not any better with the way you pull him closer, fingers lost in his locks. you huff and his arms move up to your waist, and you pull him closer, kissing him deeper— a clear confirmation that you’re into this just as much as him.

and it does end up this way, most of the time. you on his lap, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck, lips together, in the empty classrooms or storage, under the staircase— sunghoon doesn’t care if someone sees. it’s least of his concerns when you’re with him. sunghoon falls first, he falls hard. everyone knows it, it has never been a secret.

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yelenasbraid · 3 months ago

Text

on your doorstep — joe burrow

summary — he really likes you, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he likes you.

warnings — fem!reader, lsu!joe, fluff, absolute sweetness, oblivious reader, flustered joey

note — my very first lsu joe fic 🤭 figured it was needed after the loss last night :( there is a fic coming from the game tho! but probably won’t be out until later this week.

LEAVING OHIO STATE was tough. as much as joe knew that it was going to be better for his football career, he had to start over. again. he didn’t want to meet new people in his classes, again.

to make things worse, some of his credits from ohio state didn’t transfer right. so, he had to retake some of his gen ed classes. it just made joe dread the transfer even more, but as he walked into one of his political science classes, he sat next to one of most beautiful girls he’s seen.

as his first semester went on, he got to know the girl beside him. you were incredibly smart; you grasped the content a lot quicker than he did. you were friendly too, easy to talk to and overall he just liked being around you.

so when it came around to an exam, of course joe asked you to be his study buddy.

“don’t you have practice basically all week?” you asked him as your class ended. he shrugged, offering you that goofy, boyish smile.

“well yeah, but i also really want to pass this class,” he replied, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulders. he was cute, especially with how his hair flipped out from under the snapback. his hair was still long, yet he swore up and down he was going to cut it. you liked it long, you liked how he had this happy-go-lucky thing about him, and you also liked how he wasn’t like some of the other players you met. you were drawn to him, but you kept your distance. you knew of the stigma around football players.

“you kinda need to,” you teased as the two of you exited class. ever since joe met you, he’s wanted to be around you. he found himself enjoying class just because you were in it. he had something to look forward too; you made political science interesting to him. you were normal around him too. when you found out he was the starting quarterback, you didn’t lose your mind, didn’t ask for an autograph, or even give him a look. you simply nodded your head, telling him it was cool, and moved on.

at first he thought he should be offended by how nonchalant you were, but as he got to know you, he wasn’t. he enjoyed the fact you two were friends, and not because he played football.

joe rolled his eyes at your comment as you two walked out of the building. it was a rather warm day in the bayou, the sun pelting down on the both of you as you stopped at a nearby cafe.

he liked how the sun made you glow. he liked how you hated the heat, but still made a point to be out in the sun. every interaction he had with you built a butterfly nest in his stomach, and the longer he knew you, the stronger the butterflies got.

“smoothie?” he asked you as you stood in line at the cafe, pulling out your card.

“of course, it’s too hot to not have a smoothie,” you smiled, looking up at him. he was so effortlessly adorable, but he was also kind. you had a mutual love for marvel and would often go on tangents about theories. you’ve never felt so at home with someone that quickly. you felt safe with him, which bred these annoying butterflies in your stomach. he’d never like you, you were just another friend, right?

“right, and it’s a strawberry yogurt smoothie, right?” he asked again, a prideful yet boyish grin plastered on his face. you looked up at him surprise, smiling.

“i’m surprised you remembered,”

“you get it every time we come here, i can’t help but remember it,” he teased. he remembered your order the second you told him, and he’s not forgotten it since. it’s only been a few months and he wants to be with you for the rest of his life. he was so down bad for you it hurt, but you wouldn’t like him. you didn’t seem the type to go after a football player, right?

“that is very true,” you agreed with a laugh. you went to pay, but joe stepped in front of you. you barely had time to question him before he ordered. he stepped back to wait, you joining him.

"you didn't have to pay for me," you told him as you stood next to him. he felt his cheeks redden, heat rising to his ears.

"you were too slow," he teased, but in reality he wanted to pay for you. he wanted to make you feel special and feel like you were the only girl in the world. your smoothies came, and you saw he ordered two strawberry smoothies.

“stepping out of your comfort zone?” you asked, grabbing your smoothie.

“you slurp those things down like it’s candy. i had to try it,” he shrugged. despite acting nonchalant, he wasn’t. he wanted to try the things you like, to do the things you enjoyed. he took a sip of the smoothie, your eyes watching for his reaction.

“you have good taste,” he complimented, a blush rising to his cheeks. every time he complimented you, even if it was small, his heart raced and he got all nervous. would you look too far into it? would you see that he liked you?

“see? they’re good! plus, it’s not too unhealthy,” you grinned, gently shoving him as you sipped your own. you felt eyes as you walked out with joe. he was the star quarterback; people believed that he was going to do lsu a huge favor. you believed it too, but you weren’t appreciative of the stares you got, or the backhanded comments you got.

“it’s so loaded with sugar,” he laughed.

“and yet you’re still drinking it,” you defended. it was the moments like this that you lived for. the smile from joe, the way he walked in step with you, the way he’d walk you back to your apartment. you wanted to be around him all the time, but you couldn’t be. he had practice, and you had other plans too.

the two of you were making your way to the student union to do some studying. would any studying get done? probably not. every time you attempted to study, you ended up goofing off. it happened every time.

you found a table, sat your stuff down, and got out your laptops. you guys actually studied for about 30 minutes until joe showed you a funny video.

“you hear the sound it made when the ball hit his head?” he was giggling so hard as he showed you this video he found. it was two brothers playing baseball in the living room of their home, the ball being a wiffle ball, and it bounced off the younger brother’s head. that then prompted the bat to fly out of the younger brother’s hands, and the chaos of the video was what had joe shaking with laughter.

“how did he not break anything?” you asked with a fit of giggles yourself.

“i don’t know,” joe laughed, a good silent laugh too. you started laughing because of how joe was laughing. you covered your mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggles, but it was to no avail.

after a while, your giggle fits died down. you wiped tears from your eyes as you attempted to focus back on your studying.

“what’re you doing tonight?” joe asked you, wiping tears from his eyes.

“as far as i know, nothing. why?” you replied, flicking your eyes to meet his. every time you looked at him, you fought the urge to trace his features with your eyes. his lips, his jawline, his hair, even his neck. it drove you wild and made your nerves go crazy. oh what you would do to kiss him.

no, no you couldn’t think like that. he didn’t like you like that.

“we should have a movie night,” he suggested. you’ve had a movie night before, but it was more structured. mutual friends were hosting a movie night, and you two happened to go.

“sure, what movie are you thinking?” you asked, feeling the nerves bubble up inside of you. you had to keep your cool, absolutely had to.

“i’m thinking the original avengers movie. it’s been a minute so i thought we’re due for a rewatch,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his smoothie. he watched you, observing how your eyes squinted in thought, how your fingers hovered over your keyboard. he watched how your eyes flicked over his expression, and how badly he wanted to do the same. you were beautiful, and the way you sat there, a smile on your face that lit up your eyes; he’s never wanted to kiss you more in his life. suddenly, he was nervous to even be in the same room as you.

“oooh yes, i agree. your place or mine?”

“let’s do my place,” he suggested. his roommate was out of town and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. so, he had the apartment to himself. which was a good thing.

“great. should i meet you there?”

“no, i’ll pick you up,” he offered. he was bold, trying to keep his confidence as he planned this night out. he didn’t know why he was so nervous, actually, he did. joe liked you, he was falling for you, and it’d hit him like a brick wall. he’s never this nervous for a game, but having a movie night with just you? he thought he was going to be sick.

“oh, what a gentlemen,” you teased, feeling warmth spread across your body. you fell for him, and he was going to be the end of you.

—

you’ve been to his apartment before. it was kept clean, smelled nice, and not to mention it was clean. it was different this time, though. you weren’t going to drop something off, you were going to hang out with him. something very normal but very nerve wracking.

your phone buzzed with a text from joe. ‘i’m here!’ you scrambled to find your things, and once you did, you were out the door.

you walked down the stairs, trying not to trip and fall because of how shaky your legs were. you found his car, and before you could open the door yourself, joe stepped out.

“what’re you doing?” you chuckled, watching as he opened your door for you.

“making my mama proud,” he grinned. you rolled your eyes and shook your head. it was sweet, and god it made you fall for him even faster.

little did you know he was sweating just by opening the door for you.

“i bet she is,” you told him, sincerely. you knew his mom was proud of him. you knew that a lot of people were proud of him. you grew to be one of those people, especially after learning about his experience at ohio state.

joe got in, and started the drive to his place. soft music played over the speakers, but the silence wasn’t awkward. you leaned back in your seat, watching as the world went by. you turned your head, watching as joe had one hand on the wheel and the other on his thigh. why was driving so attractive to you? for a split second you imagined his hand on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. you erased that image; it would never happen.

joe pulled into his place, got out, opened the door for you, and led you up to his room. the whole car ride had him nervous. he kept wringing the wheel, thinking about the night ahead of him. he wanted to tell you how he felt, but what if you didn’t feel the same? what if you rejected him? he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you rejected him.

he unlocked his door, stepping in behind you.

“home sweet home,” he sighed as he tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter. joe watched as you walked in, blanket in hand, dressed in your comfiest clothes. he wanted you for himself so badly, but not now. he wanted a movie night with his best friend, and he’d have that.

“make yourself at home, i’ll grab some snacks,” he announced. you nodded, taking a seat on the couch. you laid the blanket over your legs as you turned on the tv. joe joined you, a bowl full of pretzels in hand. you raised an eyebrow at him as he sat down.

“pretzels?”

“don’t lie, you love em,” he grinned as he popped one into his mouth. you rolled your eyes, selecting the movie. you cuddled into the couch, facing joe. joe offered you the pretzel bowl, and you took a couple.

“thanks,” you hummed. you looked so soft, so comfortable, and he wanted to lay there with you. he wanted to feel you against him, your fingers through his hair, your lips against his. he fought everything in him to not reach out and hold your hand, or lean against you. it was going to be a long night for him.

—

as the movie came to a close, you adjusted yourself on the couch. the pretzel bowl was empty, and now you and joe faced the tv. you sat next to him, feeling his warmth radiate out from him. you gravitated towards it, leaning against his shoulder. you looped an arm through his, resting your cheek on his shoulder. exhaustion was creeping up on you, threatening to take you hostage. you stayed awake, barely.

joe, however, was electrified. the second he felt you against him he stiffened, but then forced himself to relax. he didn’t want you thinking he didn’t want you to do that. it was the opposite, he’s been silently begging for you to lean on him. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his hand resting on your arm. his fingers danced on your exposed skin, and he was hoping he wasn’t freaking you out. you both weren’t big on physical touch; he was lucky if you hugged him. this was a different feeling, one he didn’t want to let go of.

the second you felt his fingers on your arm the butterflies erupted in your stomach. warmth spread across your body, shivers crawling over your body. you wanted his touch on other areas of your body, but you stayed still.

the movie ended, but you stayed there. you didn’t want his touch to leave you, but it was late, and you were falling asleep. you needed to go home, but you were going to be thinking about this night for a long while. you pulled away from him, your cheeks a bright red.

“i love an original 6 movie,” you cleared your throat as you stretched your tight limbs, a yawn escaping your lips.

“me too,” he agreed. it was time to drive you home, the worst part of the night. he didn’t say what he wanted to say, he didn’t tell you how he felt and how you lit up his life. why did he let his nerves, his fears, control him? they didn’t on the field, so why now?

you gathered your things, slipped on your shoes, and got into the car. the drive home almost put you to sleep, especially since the music was low enough to tempt you.

joe pulled into your apartment, parking the car.

“what’re you doing?” you yawned.

“i’m gonna walk you up,”

“no, no you don’t have to do that,” you rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the sleep from them. joe thought it was cute, especially since you were so sleepy.

“please, my mama raised me better,” he told you, getting out of the car. joe and his mama. joe opened your door for you, and you stepped out. he walked with you up to your apartment door, his mind racing. now was his chance, he had to do something.

“we should do movie nights more often,” you suggested.

“we should. maybe we can watch the entirety of the mcu this semester,” joe added as you got to your door. you fiddled with your keys as you unlocked your door. as much as you didn’t want to walk in, you were exhausted.

“thanks for tonight, it was fun,” you smiled sleepily at him. he shoved his hands in his sweats pockets and shrugged.

“don’t mention it,” he watched as you started to walk in to your apartment, and his heart lurched.

“y/n, wait,” he called, grabbing your hand, spinning you to face him. you looked at him with a worried gaze.

“what-” you couldn’t even get the word out before joe’s lips found yours. you were shocked, but before you could process he pulled away. he opened his mouth to speak, but you grabbed his collar and pulled him back down to you. your lips met, and his lips were just as soft as they looked. your hands looped around his neck, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing you as close as he possibly could.

he couldn’t believe he was kissing you. he couldn’t believe he felt you against him, that you were kissing him. he imagined this for a while, the feeling of you in his arms and the taste of you on his tongue. he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. he smiled, not being able to control himself.

“i’ve waited so long to do that,” he admitted softly. you chuckled, feeling a blush on your cheeks and butterflies in your stomach.

“me too,”

“let me take you out on a date,” he suggested, pulling his forehead from yours. you looked up at him with a twinkle in your eye.

“i’m all yours, burrow,” you hummed, which prompted him to dip his head in, softly kissing you again. you wanted to stay there forever, kissing him on your doorstep, feeling his hands on your body. you never wanted the moment to end. you looked forward to that date, and hopefully, many more to come.

i can’t believe i’ve not written for lsu joe before??? and now he’s all i think about??? anyways, pls enjoy this absolute fluff piece! lsu joe is such a cutie so i had to write for him. hopefully this makes up for the terrible, depressing loss we had last night 😭

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #nfl imagine

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msmiseryxoxo · 4 months ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors

homelander x assistant! reader

🎧 Behind Closed Doors- Lana Del Rey

Disclaimer: This is finally done after two months, i first started this when the season came out. I don't know anything about the corporate world. I made up things as I went along :3 im sorry :( Also my first time writing fanfic and first time creative writing in a while, so I am a bit rusty be nice please :3 I wrote this as a challenge to myself , so i hope its not too bad. Constructive criticism welcome :)

around 3-4k words i lost count

this is so secretary ( 2002) coded

Tags: dom!Homelander Fem! Girly! Reader. praise kink, body worship, p in v, fingering, cmnf, homelander is soft for reader. creampie, breeding kink, daddy nickname used. homelander and reader are horny weirdos. I'm bad at tagging hopefully i'll be better :(

Set between seasons 3-4 but i didn't watch gen v oops

You transcribe the meetings for Vought, and you feel like you don’t get the recognition that you deserve. That is until Homelander calls for a private meeting.

You were quiet and meek, like a little mouse. He viewed you exactly like that. A rodent to be exterminated. Squashed. He’ll have a word with whoever was in charge of hiring you. Even more of a word if it was Ashley. In your eyes, he could never hide the utter disdain on his face whenever he got a waft of your sweet, vanilla rose scent as you . He thought you represented everything wrong with humans. Your head was always hung low, you always stared at your shoes as you brought Ashley the notes for this week’s meeting. How dare you not look in his eyes? How can someone as stupid as you ever be trusted with confidential information about the company?

He absolutely hated everything about you. Your prissy nature, the way you only drank matcha lattes with soy milk. He turned his nose at that poor excuse of a milk option. He smelled that bullshit from a mile away. He hated the gloss on your lips. He hated the sparkle in your eyes, like you still had a lot of life to look forward to. He hated that hopeful mentality you held, following the philosophy that life was going to get better. He simultaneously hated and loved the way you cowered in his presence, the way your hands get sweaty and clutch at your skirt. He loved and hated the fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact with him. On top of all that, Homelander hated the way you made his dick twitch.

Even as you stumble around with a slight hunchback, he couldn’t keep thoughts of peeling off your tights and bending you over the table where meetings were held. How breathless and cute your pathetic moans would be. How he would make you speak up and ask for what you truly want. He wondered what your lip gloss would taste like. How soft your plush ass would feel as he caresses it. Even considering your horrible posture, something as small as your scent is enough to turn him on.

When homelander would retire to his apartment, he would drink a pint of milk and jerk off. That was his nightly routine for the last couple of years. He would think about Madelyn Stillwell, Stormfront, and if he was feeling especially normal, he would think about Queen Maeve. After a week of you working at Vought, his jerk off material had changed. He began thinking about you. A lot. You had dominated his brain, and this irritated the hell out of Homelander. He had never given this much thought to another person before. Mundane and ordinary things had popped into his brain. What did you eat for breakfast? What side of the bed do you sleep on? As much as he tried thoughts of you out of his head, they always came back with a vengeance. Just your entire existence bugged Homelander, but he got used to seeing you in the conference room, even looked forward to the weekly meetings if it meant he got to see you. He’d notice that his presence would have an embarrassing effect on you. Of course, he would have a certain effect on just about everyone that he encountered, but he relished in the fact that you would get so flustered when in the same vicinity of each other. He would then think of ways to get you worked out, he wanted to tease you just enough to coax you. He’d knew the type of girl you were, you thrived under words of praise. Homelander also knew that you’d be obedient enough to never say anything. He’d make you fear him, more than you already do. He wanted to make the desire to please stronger.

After the first month of your newfound employment at Vought, you wondered why anyone would put up with Homelander and the Seven’s antics. You pride yourself on your obedience and dedication. Why could nobody acknowledge the sea of tears shed over copious hours of overtime, and the perfection you put into shooting out emails everyday, keeping people on track. You even schedule the time the emails are to be put out. You know deep down you will never say anything, or even hint at the maltreatment and neglect that you recieve. You want to remain hopeful that this is just a rough patch, and as you get more acclimated to the company you won’t feel this way, they won’t treat you this way.

You wake up at 5:30 to face the day. 30 minute shower, a five step skin routine, and light makeup routine. You were told to always look your best when first hired. Vought has an image to maintain, and their employees should reflect that ( which only really applies to female employees).

While in the shower, you contemplate your life. You’re proud of yourself and what you have accomplished so far, but sticking to the Vought job is insane. It’s insane because you have a crush on your boss. Arguably the most famous and powerful man in America, or even the entire world. You know he's not a good person, but you wouldn’t mind being at his beck and call. God, it was pathetic how you imagine him grunting in your ear for you to take it. You try to move past these thoughts for the betterment of your life.

You are the first to arrive to the meeting room. You set up your space, placing your laptop, a notebook with strawberry pattern on it, and your matcha latte with soymilk.

As the supes settle in, you get ready to write. This week’s meeting was about searching for another member of the seven, or to speak truthfully, find a new black noir. You are clueless to how The Seven found itself without a Black Noir, but you know it is in your best interest to never ask questions. Of course, like the queen of England, Homelander is the last to arrive. Homelander strides in greeting everyone.

“ Mmm can’t wait for the bullshit we talk about today,” He rolls his eyes. You notice his tone even more irritated today. Homelander walks over to the front of the table and sits. Everyone waits for him to speak, for him to start the meeting. As you write the date on the top of your paper, you hear him clear his throat.

As you look up, he says your name. How does he even know your name? He couldn’t give less of a shit at anyone at this table, especially you.

“Can I speak to you at the end of the meeting? Alone of course. We wouldn’t want any of these morons listening in”

“ Oh. Yeah, of course!” You stutter a bit. You give him a small smile. He gives you his signature fake smile back. You know that look all too well. You recognize that that look is basically the middle finger. That highly calculated smile hides the disgust he feels for everyone around him at any given time. All the while, you are caught off guard by his words. Being alone in a room with any man would make you anxious, but being the only woman in the room with Homelander makes you nauseous. To say you are absolutely mortified would be an understatement.

Everyone in the room gives you a side eye. Ashley looks like she might pull out a gun and shoot you. She knows she’ll never hear the end of it. After all, she did hire you.

The rest of the meeting goes as smoothly as it could. Some dumb remarks were made by The Deep, but it could have been worse. You didn’t pay much attention during this meeting, as you were in your head about what this private session with Homelander would entail. Homelander senses your heartrate going up. He can practically hear the blood rushing through your veins. His hand quietly goes to grab and rub his bulge. He thinks of you on your knees, him grabbing your hair as you rub your face against his crotch with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him with adoration in your eyes. He brings his hands up and bangs the table.

“ Ok, I think we’re all done here,’’ He gives instructions to the Deep and Ashley to scout for the new Black Noir while A-Train shoots his movie. You write the details of the meeting in your notebook.

Everyone gets out of their chair and leaves, Ashley gives you a death stare. You feel faint, and your legs try to gather courage to walk toward Homelander.

“ Shut the door behind you, will you buddy” Deep closes the door, and you two are left alone at last.

Homelander slowly strides toward you with his hands behind his back. Like a deer in headlights , you were paraylzed with fear, you could not move. He softly grabs your chin. He sees the fear in your eyes.

“ Hey, you’re not in trouble. I can see the hairs on your arm standing up. It’s fine. You’re not in trouble.” He reassures you, eliminating the worst case scenario your brain. You breath a breathe of relief. You look at Homelander’s boots, still afraid to look him in the eye.

He gives a slight chuckle. “ I’m not going to laser you, ya know. Um, actually I asked you to stay because I realized something.” He places his hands on your shoulders, you finally look up. He is towering over you. You can see the absence of his pores on his face. He truly is perfect, which makes his presence even more intoxicating. Your head feels dizzy from both the fear and his course fingertips on your shoulders.

“ You’ve been here for a good while. I know that you think that you’ve gone unnoticed. But trust that that could not be further from the case.” He sighed. “ To be quite honest with you sweetheart, you’ve been too much of a distraction around here. Your short little skirts are killing me.” Homelander laughs. He imagined his hands hiking up your skirt all of the time. He toys with your hair as you cannot believe that this is happening. His hands travel to your neck as you can smell the mintiness of his breath. He places soft sweet kisses on the tip of your ear as you let out a whimper.

“ I know you wanted me like this. Ya think I don’t know why you try so hard? You want to get my attention. Think of this as a reward, yeah?” Your knees buck. The pit of desire in your stomach is getting bigger, and you're aching for more of his touch.

“ I need you to look at me” He says in his stern voice. “ And I need you to respond when I’m talking to you, kay? Sit on the table for me.”

You nod your head. A light tap of his hand kisses your left cheek.

“ Use your words, doll.” Homelander whispers and looks at you tentatively.

“oh okay” you stutter and stammer.

He impatiently unbuttons your shirt, practically tearing it open, and quickly undoing the claps of your pretty pink bra ( which you wore everyday, holding onto hope he would one day see it) clumsily breaking a clasp in the process.

“ I’ll get you a new one, its fine” Your mouth opens in a slight gasp.

His tender, soft, touch full of need finds the softness of your breasts, as he bends down to delicately pinch your nipples, hard, from the building's chill and the unfamiliar feel of his leather gloves. He bites his lips, resisting the urge to come right then and there. He lightly sets you on your back, legs dangling off the table. He looms over your view. The blonde man begins to suckle on your breast, massaging the other. His lips leave soft marks all over your tits as he rotates his hands and his lips.

“ Oh god, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart, your tits feel amazing” You let out a mewl as your pussy clenches. Filthy sounds of Homelander lapping at your tits and soft cries escaping your mouth fill the room. He lightly nibbles your nipple. In a fleeting moment of bravery, you give Homelander a request.

"Mmm want you inside"

“Not yet honey. Needa prep you first, know you can’t handle it right now. ” He unzips your skirt and throws it across the room. Your tights were thigh high, so he didn’t have to take them off like he would have liked. He looks almost animalistic as he crouches down to level with your cunt. He rubs his gloved hands up and down your bare thighs, as he inhaled the scent of your clothed pussy. You run your hands through his soft, blonde hair, thinking about how how heaven feels.

He murmurs into your pussy, “ you’re fucking soaked and i barely touched you”

His nose brushes with your clit. Catching wind of your squirming and quiet mumbles, Homelander purposely moves his nose in a circle while he maintains eye contact with you. A strong hold of his hands is on your hips, trying to contain the buildup of your pleasure. His rhythmic movement works your way toward an orgasm, and as you get higher and higher, almost reaching your peak, he moves away, toward your mouth, embracing your tongue, biting your lip softly, as your lips sloppily crashed into each other. He sat you back up as his arms moved up and down your back. Anger quickly left your body as quickly it came, you couldn’t be mad at his denial when you inhaled his fresh linen and sandalwood scent.

He breaks away from your lips .“I want you to cum on my cock, so im just gonna make you nice and wet for now, sound good?” You look into his of course that sounded good, but something felt off.

“ mmkay homelander” you mumble, feeling a bit odd and disconnected suddenly. You don’t want to call him that, his nose was in your pussy, his tongue all over your chest, it felt wrong to call him homelander. Sensing this, he does the unthinkable.

“ call me john” he mutters under his breath, almost inaudible. you grin at him.

“ mmkay john!” God. your squeal and positive attitude made his cock even harder, which he didn’t think possible. You relax a bit more, as this was a sign of him opening up.

He slowly wiggles you out of your panties, as you giggle. Leaving you fully naked, Homelander basks in the sight of you, ready and pliant for him.

“ Yeah, what’s so funny” Homelander smiles at you.

“ hmm. Dunno. You’re just so…” you trail off at the end of your sentence.

As you’re responding to his question, Homelander slips a finger inside you. You let out a cry, slightly rolling your head back.

“ Im so what sweetheart, finish your sentence” He grabs you by your neck, demanding a deep sloppy kiss, whilst adding another finger in your pussy, plunging deep in and out of your slick folds. He curls two fingers up,

‘So..mmph..good, feels good, john”

“ Mmm yeah I know honey, I know ” He coos, mockingly in between kisses. He worked his fingers until your breaths became ragged, squirming and quivering under his touch.

“ You’re so fucking wet, baby” He grunts while you moan as John scissors his fingers in and out of your slick pussy. He moves his fingers, moving them into circles on your clit.

“Im gonna cum, please!” You plea for him to keep going, faster.

“ Ah ah ah, no i don’t think so. going do it on my dick remember?” He pulls his fingers out of your wet warmth, drags his tongue up and down his fingers.

He moans as he sucks on his own fingers, you look up at john with utter adoration.

“you taste so good mmph” Your tongues intertwine, lapping filthy at one another. He bits your earlobes while his hands lazily fidget with your nipples.

He then brings the bottom of his suit to his knees, cock swinging out. It’s egregiously thick. His length swollen and aching, leaking out precum from his pretty tip.

“ I’m going put my cock in now, ok sweetheart?” He seems to take it easy on you, as he doesn’t mention your mouth salivating at the sight of his dick.

“need it bad, been waiting for it”

“ Oh I know, i’ve seen the way you look at me” he laughs sinisterly.

He uses one of his arms to spread your thighs wider apart as his other hands supports you up, grasping the whole of your back. You smile up at him

He positions himself nearer to you, his cock at your entrance.

“ it’s gonna be a big stretch ok, need you to breath, if you need support, hold onto my shoulder.” he senses your lack of experience, or at least your naivety. you had never experienced anything like this, and you never would again, he would make sure of it.

you nod your head and look up. You’re already cock drunk, you trust him with your life. He reassures you with a kiss to your forehead.

Homelander bullies his length through your warm walls, gently and slowly. you let out a cry, both of pleasure and pain. you feel so good full, He groans into your mouth, as you moan into his.

“ ok honey, it’s going in”

“mmmphh John, so big..”

“does it hurt?” he stops in his tracks.

“a little, but not a lot” you say almost in a whisper.

“ok, ill keep going really slow, sweetheart”

He thrusts real slow, as he caresses your face. you lose feeling in your legs as he pounds softly into you. He finds him rhythm quickly as he maintains his pace. You hold onto his back as he moves his hands all over you.

“ God, your tight pussy clenching my cock feels so good sweet girl”

You smile and giggle.

“ My dick needs to be in your sweet cunt forever, sweet cunt, sweet girl” He growls into your ear.

“mm Keep going daddy!” you squeal, not knowing the damage you have done but uttering those words. Homelander feels like could come right then and there. A primal switch flipped in his brain.

Tears begin to swell in your eyes. “ I’m so so so sorry i didn’t mean to say that” Homelander sees your eyebrows furrow and your eyes widen.

His thrusts begin to pick up the pace, the perfect rhythm becomes sloppy, as your juices spill out of your thigh. His fat cock ever so slightly touches your cervix as you let out a soft sob.

“you don’t know what you do to me don’t you? Jesus, this pussy was molded for my cock” He grabs you by your knees and throws your legs over his shoulders. His dick twitches inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum, and you’re about to follow him.

“Say it again. Call me what you just called me” He annunciatesin a low voice.

“ Fuck, daddy feels good, want your cum” You feel free of all embarrassment and shame in that moment as you bask in euphoria.

“ That’s a good girl. Good girls get to cum. Good girls get filled up with daddy’s cum” Homelander never knew that this nickname did it for him. Hell, he was more of a mommy kind of guy, but he would do anything for you. Any word that came out of your mouth would make him hard, because it was you. But submitting yourself to him in this way, it did more than getting his dick up. He was disgusted by this feeling. What was it? Why did it feel so weird?

“ Oh god I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in you, give you babies oh god” He sloppily kisses your face, as fat blobs of sticky cum drip out of your cunt. He keeps his cock in your pussy, as he holds you with your face pressed to his chest.

“i need to come daddy” you stutter and shake under him.

He allows you to come and you swear you see stars. John smears his cum across your pussy, then he bends down to kiss in between your lips highs.

He helps you into your skirt and what’s left of the rest of your clothes. You smile at him, and he smiles back. A genuine smile.

that got a little more emotional then i thought it was? idk should i make more of homelander x reader in mind? if you want to give feedback feel free to :) i’m doing this to be a better writer !

divider creds: @cafekitsune @bunnysrph @anitalenia

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #homelander x you #homelander prompt #homelander smut #dilfism #x reader #the boys season 4

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xzaddyzanakinx · 4 months ago

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Twenty: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/ spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT, [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] GORE, MURDER

Info: Aw ur having such a cute dinner party... wtf is that?? [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

”Jesus Anakin, what happened?” You gasped, seeing the damaged door of his car as he walked you toward it. You crouched down and touched the big scrape, feeling the dented and scratch metal beneath your fingertips with a wince as you turned to look up at him, you were surprised to see a little smile on his face when you’d expected one of annoyance or anger.

”Some little girl backed into it.” He snickered, giving you a hand up from your squatted position. “Looks like there are worse drivers than you out in the world. Makes me shudder to think about.” He dramatically shivered, opening up your car door for you and guiding you into your seat with a hand on your ass.

”Was she alright?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed when he plopped himself down in the drivers seat and slammed the door shut.

“Yeah, it was a stationary accident. She was fine, just real upset.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair before starting the car and reaching over to put a hand on your thigh while he drove. “She had the tiniest dent and just a bit of paint on the bumper. Worried sick her momma would be mad about the insurance going up.”

”Oh poor thing.” You winced, knowing all too well the worry of something like that happening from experience.

”No, don’t ‘poor thing’ her.” He snorted, patting your thigh affectionately. “I told her to get some WD-40 and a magic eraser, it’ll fix it up and her mom won’t notice the dent for a while, its so small.”

“Well what are you gonna do about your car?” You asked, feeling a strange mixture of pride in Anakin for taking care of the issue for the young girl and a dash of irritation that he’d be paying for the damage on his car when it wasn’t even his fault.

”Cliegg will take care of it.” Anakin shrugged, clearly unbothered by the whole situation.

”Really?” You raised an eyebrow in surprise, not realizing his stepfather had any auto-body experience.

”Yeah, we’ll buff the paint and pop the dent out, its no big deal doll.” He said reassuringly. Squeezing your knee as he drove the short distance back home.

After arriving at your apartment you were pleasantly surprised to see that your entire apartment was spotless. The dishes were gone, the trash had been taken out, the floors vacuumed and mopped so well that you could catch a whiff of the faint scent of the cleaning solution he’d used. Even the basket of laundry had been emptied and put away. It was so nice to come home to a clean, fresh smelling home like this, you’d missed it so much more than you’d realized.

It nearly made your heart ache.

“Anakin you didn’t have to do all this.” You turned around, giving him an appreciative smile and swallowing the little lump in your throat that was trying to creep up and stop your breathing.

“I know that princess,” He said softly, the corner of his mouth curving up into a smile. “I just thought you might be able to relax a little better if i took care of it for you.”

”Thank you for being so sweet.” You whispered, inching closer to him until you were able to rest your head against his chest and allow him to hold you close.

“Anything for you doll,” He murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of your head lovingly. “You’re all tense sweetheart.”

Anakin rubbed your back, one hand cupping the base of your skull, his fingertips gently scratching your scalp. After a moment of standing there comforting you, he pulled back and stroked your cheek with his thumb. He sighed, smiling down at you like you’d hung the moon just for him, you couldn’t help but blush. It was an endearing quality of his, the ability to love you so thoroughly that he didn’t even have to speak the words aloud. It often made you wonder if you exuded that same warm feeling for him, you wanted him to feel it like you did.

It was odd, how one minute you were so completely enraptured in Anakin’s presence and the next you were punching down every guilty feeling or idea threatening to interrupt those sweet little daydreams. It seemed nearly impossible to get through a single line of thought without being intercepted and hijacked. It made you not want to think at all, made you wonder what it would be like to feel nothing but a void in your soul, not the kind that ached, the kind that burned your stomach and clawed your throat. You wanted the kind that was far removed from emotion the kind of void that was blank, empty and cold.

“Sorry, I- I was just thinking about getting in the shower.” you leaned back to look up into his face before getting to extricate yourself from his embrace.

“Let me come with you?” Anakin murmured, not entirely a question but not really a demand either. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You said quietly, you had missed him of course, but there was someone out there you missed more. Not due to lack of love for Anakin, simply because it had felt like years since you’d spoken to the hunter who owned you as prey.

“Yeah, c’mon Ani.” Your voice a soft tone, hoping he’d accept the sudden subdued moment between you as one of reined in lust, rather than one of longing for another.

Anakin didn’t seem to notice, too busy ushering you toward the bathroom while he was ripping his clothing off. Whipping his shirt off over his head so aggressively that you heard one of the stitches pop, soon followed by the clattering of his belt and soft thud of his jeans hitting the bathroom floor.

“Mm.” Anakin grunted in a pleased manner as he watched you undress and toss your clothes into the laundry basket. “I love that pretty little set.”

He whistled low and lustful as he stepped forward to fully appreciate the delicate fabric of your matching bra and panties. The snug bra had a cute, innocently sexy quality to it, the white and pink lace contrasting beautifully with your skin, the panties nearly entirely see through in the best way.

Anakin couldn’t stop smiling as he guided his palms over the soft planes of your physique as if he were seeing it for the first time all over again. Pausing his rough fingertips at the center of your spine he flicked his tongue out against your bottom lip and down your cheek to lave at your neck as a public declaration in purple. Both hands left a fiery wake as they slipped beneath the band of your bra and popped the clasp loose.

“Never gets old.” He shook his head and whispered quietly. “Every time I fall in love all over again.”

“Ani, n-not yet.” You stuttered as he started to drag his tongue across your chest, goosebumps cropping up over your flesh so rapidly that it startled you. “At least let me rinse off the restaurant stink!” You squealed as he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you into the shower.

”Brace yourself.” He giggled, turning on the water once you’d pulled the shower curtains closed. The water sprayed down cold upon your skin, making you gasp before it grew warmer.

“Shit, that was colder than I thought it’d be.” He shivered, chilly hands caressing your stomach until he reached the pillowy softness of your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. “Worth it.” He grinned.

”Fuck you.” Swatting at his hands in playful defiance when you realized he wasn’t just being impatient, he’d wanted you to get doused in freezing water for his own satisfaction.

”Nope.” He shook his head, wrapping his arms around your slowly warming body, his lips tickling the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “I’ll be fucking you.”

The gravelly undertone of his voice rippled across your flesh and wormed its way down the planes of your body until it ripped into the coil growing taut in your core. Just like that, quicker than a snap of the fingers, you were putty in his strong, tattooed hands. His lips trailed down your neck, nibbled across your collarbone, and traveled to your breasts. His mouth and hands took their time massaging and tasting your water slicked skin, his little teasing nibbles turning into harder, needier bites as he moaned and fell to his knees.

”You just stay right there and make those pretty noises for me.” He murmured, lifting one of your legs to hook over his shoulder before nuzzling into your cunt.

”Anakin,” panting already as you grasped at his damp hair. “Anakin just fuck me already, you’ve been teasing me since we stepped in here.” You whined, trying to pull his face away from the apex of your thighs.

Anakin’s hands roamed up your stomach and he shifted his position to tilt you farther back into the corner of the shower. He kept one firmly anchored to your hip that rested on his shoulder, the other gripped your chin with his thumb, pinky and ring fingers holding you in place. His middle and pointer finger forcing their way between your lips and pressing down on your tongue to shut you up.

”I want what I want and I’ll have it.” He growled, nipping your clit before diving back in to continue his work. His tongue tirelessly lapping at your folds, waning every time you neared orgasm until he had you desperately mewling around his fingers, your hips bucking against his smiling face. ”Keep your hands behind your back or I’ll make you wait longer.” He murmured, holding back a chuckle.

“Please?” You slurred, drool pooling in the corner of your mouth as you gagged on his fingers, your hands itching to move and force him to stay where you wanted him.

”You wanna cum?” He rasped, looking up at you beneath his thick lashes while flicking his tongue back and forth as he awaited your answer. A thick, garbled moan and rapid nod confirmed what he already knew, making him snicker as he slowly rose up.

”Well, you’ll just have to wait.” He whispered, wiping his face on your breasts, planting a kiss on your sternum before turning you until the water pelted your back so you’d face him while he soaped up your body.

”You’re joking.” You squeaked, your chest heaving with each breath as you shivered under the soapy loofah, the rough netting setting your already sensitive skin ablaze. “You can’t just-“

”Oh yes I can.” He interrupted you, a devilish smirk gracing his lips. “You were the one who wanted to wait until after the shower right?”

”But not like this! That was before you tortured me!” You whined, angrily grabbing the shampoos bottle, eager to get out of the shower and into the bed.

”C’mon doll, don’t complain or I’ll make it so much worse.” Promising more than just teasing, Anakin was promising a world full of nothing for you and all pleasure for himself.

”I need you, in a bad way.” He mumbled, spinning you to face the shower head so he could take over scrubbing your scalp and carding the shampoo down your tangled strands of hair. “Been waiting for you all evening, its your turn to wait now.” He growled, pressing his hardened erection against your ass, slotting it between your thighs to rub the tip against your folds, his rough hands gripping the base of his cock as he groaned.

“This is so mean.” You whimpered, tilting your hips backward and grinding back on him.

”You better quit.” He chuckled, samcking your hip lightly before making you turn your back to the stream of water once again to rinse the suds from your hair.

You couldn’t help but stare down at his hard, throbbing length. It stood there so proudly, so thick and pretty, adorned with that shiny silver jewelry that you never knew you needed before him. In the span of time that he’d had you distracted just by existing, he’d rinsed out your hair and rinsed himself off as well, the masculine scent of his body wash clinging to the steam of the shower.

“Time for bed?” You grinned, wiggling your eyebrows as he led you out the shower and onto the soft bath mat, wrapping you in a towel.

”Oh you’re sleepy?” He teased, struggling not to smirk. “Well, I suppose I could wait until t-“

”No! You know that’s not what I meant!” You scowled, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along behind you to the bedroom.

“Moody little thing.” He mumbled under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. He used his free arm to pull you back against his chest, using your tight grip on his wrist to his advantage by twisting your arm behind your back. With that arm trapped between yourself and his chest, he leaned in closer, his plump lips brushing against you ear. “I believe we’ve discussed this before. Do. Not. Raise. Your. Voice. At. Me.”

Each word was punctuated with a pause that seemed louder than the words themselves. You’d heard that phrase. Heard it enunciated identically to this. The only difference between then and now is the person.

“What did you just say to me?” You whispered, the warmth of your cheeks, flushed from arousal turned icy cold and pallid within milliseconds.

”I said not to raise your voice at me babydoll.” Anakin said sweetly, kissing your neck chastely before releasing you from his firm grasp, spinning you out of his hold as if on the dance floor. “It’s rude.” He chuckled, backing you up to the bed.

“Right.” You tried to swallow but it seemed as if you had temporarily lost that ability, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You were startled, the aggressive embrace, the sudden change of tone, the familiar dialogue… that’s all it was. Familiar dialogue. Anakin was always a stickler for behavior, it wasn’t the first time you’d been chided by him over something small and it wouldn’t be the last. Anakin is aggressive sometimes too, this is fine.

“Atta girl.” Anakin chuckled, grabbing your chin in one hand, bringing your face closer to his for a slow, tender kiss. “I love it when you listen.” He murmured against your lips.

“Doing my best.” You laughed uncomfortably, turning your head to the side to avoid his eyes.

”Aww, feeling shy?” He teased, stepping closer until you were forced to bend backward in order to look up into his face.

Anakin cupped the back of your head in his large palm, using his free hand to hike one leg up over his hip. His tongue starting in the dip at the base of your throat, swiping side to side in a sidewinder fashion until he reached your jaw. The tip of his tongue traced the underside of your jaw lightly, traveling up the shell of your ear and ending with his teeth nibbling your earlobe.

The sensation left behind was a cold flamed fire that spread from your flesh and began to seep deep into the marrow of your bones.

“Shy?” You repeated in a whisper, having trouble forming a straight line of thought. Your brain felt off-kilter, like a switchboard operator had plugged all the cords in wrong.

“Oh, poor thing.” He snickered, pushing you down gently. “You sound kinda stupid. Maybe just let me do the talking for now okay?”

“S-sure.” You nodded, frowning slightly before one of his massive hands clamped down over your mouth.

”Good girl.” He grinned, pushing down on your stomach with his other hands laying flat, splaying his fingers to almost fully cover you abdomen. “Now lets see how long you can stay quiet.”

Diary Entry: October 14th

I love you. I love you so much. But I love that deer in the headlights look on your face when I stitch your two worlds together even more. Why won’t you just admit it to yourself? Why do you continue to torture yourself like this? It’s baffling. You’re sleeping beside me right now, if you could even consider what you’re doing to be sleep. Whimpering and mumbling in a ‘being chased by a monster In your dreams’ kind of way. I’ve tried petting you, playing with your hair and even talking quietly. The only thing that seemed to work was when I started to doodle in my notebook, maybe somewhere in the back of your mind you associate the sound of pencil on paper with safety. The brain is so weird in that way. How is it that you couldn’t ever hear me break in and roam around your apartment but you could hear me sit in the floor with your cat in my lap and write in my journal? At this point I think even taking off my mask right in front of you wouldn’t convince you to see the truth. What excuses are you giving yourself now? What excuse are you going to come up with after you find out what I’ve done?

Diary Entry: October 14th

I’m glad I kept the hall camera up. I’m glad I still check it, I’m glad I still have all the previous footage. Lacey is a liar.

October 15th

”Oh god, that’s just…” Luke gasped, the color in his cheeks draining clean to the floor beneath his as he stared at the tv in his living room.

“Why the hell do they put crime scene photos like that on the damn news? Jesus.” Han said, whipping his hand out to the side to cover Luke’s face, knowing how squeamish he was compared to the average person. The photo didn’t reveal much at all, just a blurred figure sitting upright behind a counter.

“It’s the news Han, it’s not supposed to be puppies and rainbows.” Anakin said flatly, shutting the fridge door with two beer bottles in his hand, holding them by the neck and bringing them down on his knee. The first cap popped off easily and he caught it with his free hand, shifting the bottles slightly, he brought them down on his knee again and popped off the other cap.

“Well you’d think they wouldn’t put a dead guy on screen.” Han huffed, shaking his head.

”Show off.” You teased Anakin, watching him open the beers while you were busy rinsing the dishes from dinner off in the sink to then set up in the dishwasher.

“That’s what I do baby.” He shrugged, a grin on his lips as he plopped himself down on the other side of Han, handing him one of the beers.

“It was all blurred on purpose, they didn’t show anything gross.” Anakin said to Han dismissively. “Just don't watch the 20/20 special they’ll put out. They always get their hands on a couple gnarly crime scene pictures.”

“Ain’t that right.” Luke gagged dramatically, recalling a memory of the true crime show that he and Han had watched a few weeks prior.

“I don’t get why they haven’t released the name yet.” You mumbled, leaning against the counter as you glanced at the tv. “You think it was a minor?”

“No, they would’ve said that by now.” Anakin shook his head, sipping his beer. “They’re probably waiting for the autopsy or the family or something.”

_______________________________________________

“What you’re seeing on screen now is a security photo, taken from a CCTV camera inside the building.” A male news anchor gestured to the upper left corner of the screen where a black and white photo was being displayed. It was grainy and dark, half of the lens obscured by something. “This is the only image released to the press via the police department, we were unable to confirm if this is the only image containing the suspect.”

_______________________________________________

“What am I even looking at?” You asked, walking up behind the couch and leaning over Anakin’s shoulder.

“I don’t see a person there.” Luke said, craning his neck to the side in an attempt to see it from a different perspective.

_______________________________________________

“Sources state that the substance obscuring the camera lens is black spray paint, making the majority of the image completely useless.” The news anchor spoke with a clear voice, pausing for a moment before speaking again.

“Analysis has confirmed that this re-touched image holds the only current clue to who the suspect is.” He paused again while a new photo appeared on screen, slightly different in color tone and slightly less grainy. The difference of the pictures side by side was quite clear, just above the black spray paint splotch, a slightly different shade of black and grey could be seen. “Highlighted within the yellow circle, you can just barely make out the shape of a hand holding the spray paint can.”

“Police are fairly certain the suspect is wearing a black long sleeved shirt or sweatshirt, as well as black gloves. Due to the poor quality, they were unable to determine the material of the clothing and gloves.” The female news anchor took over speaking while live footage of the crime scene played on screen. Police tape, an evidence tent and a coroner’s van could be seen in the center of the shot.

”Investigators working the scene have claimed there seems to be no clear motive in the murder and no suspect has been cited. The victim was a young, well liked individual, whose family claims had ‘no enemies’.” The female anchor continued, pausing again before switching gears slightly.

“The mall will remain closed for the next two weeks while the police continue to gather evidence. All other information is being withheld from the public while the investigation is still in it’s beginning stages. More on this story tonight at 6:00pm.”

_______________________________________________

“That's it?” Han scoffed, shaking his head in frustration at the short ‘update’. “This is almost worse than ‘Frat Lake’.”

“What?” You squeaked, the heat in your body all rising to your head at once, making you feel light headed.

“You know, ‘Frat Lake’.” Luke turned around to look at you, “Those guys they found in the cabin across the lake from ours.”

“Oh, no… I know what you’re talking about. I guess I just didn’t realize they’d given the case a name.” You said quickly, trying not to stumble over your words.

“Well it’s like one of the main things in the news still, of course they gave it a name.” Luke said, shifting in his seat to put his arm on the back of the couch. “I don’t know about you but I still don’t think that kid did all of that by himself.”

“What makes you say that?” Anakin asked, his hand reaching up to snake underneath your arm and squeeze your bicep as if he could sense your nervousness even if he didn’t consciously recognize it.

“It was all so weird.” Luke said, looking over at Han. “Didn’t they say there weren’t any fingerprints anywhere?”

“Yeah, no fingerprints, no serial number on the gun, no bullet in the one dude.” Han mused aloud, each syllable from his lips making your stomach rise an inch higher in your throat. “He left those others alive, in the closet. It just didn’t make sense.”

“Well, shit happens.” Anakin said nonchalantly. “Maybe the plan changed.” Anakin’s thumb brushed back and forth over the soft skin of your inner arm, tilting his head up and to the side to kiss your arm.

“Maybe, yeah.” You agreed, your eyes shifting away quickly as your cheeks grew hot and your throat began to itch. “He probably realized he’d screwed up big time and panicked. Maybe that’s why he posted that stuff before he killed himself.” You suggested, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation but feeling it was more awkward not to give any input. So you simply repeated a paraphrased version of what Ghost had said to you.

“Probably.” Han agreed, nodding slowly before he put his arm across Luke’s shoulder. “I mean they weren’t good people so I kind of have a hard time feeling too bad about it.”

Anakin snickered at Han’s comment, turning his head away from the group for a moment before returning his eyes to the tv.

“What? You think they should’ve gotten away with it?” Han asked with a scoff. “Maybe they didn’t deserve to die, but I think a few days in that closet might have been good for them.”

“Oh no, not at all. I’m with you 100%.” Anakin said with a crooked upturn in his top lip. “I’d say you’re probably right on the nose there buddy. That’s probably what that little shrimpy kid had in mind. I doubt he planned on them all dying. He was probably hoping they’d get found before then.”

“Great so now Han has a true crime buddy to yap about the unspeakable with.” Luke grumbled, looking over at you with a look of understanding and sympathy. His face morphed into concern when he met your eyes. “Jesus babe, you alright?”

“Ani,” You said quietly, unable to come to terms with the fact that they were all so casually speaking about the case that you’d been involved in. “I don’t feel so good.”

“C’mere.” He said worriedly as he stood up and walked around behind the couch to stand in front of you, cupping your face in his hands to inspect you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we please talk about something else?” You whispered, feeling tired and drained compared to how lively and happy you were just moments before. Ghost was right to tell you that you shouldn’t watch the news on ‘Frat Lake’. You’d thought you were over it, but the guilt just smashed into you like a mac truck.

“Feeling squeamish?” He asked, his eyes soft and caring as you nodded. “Lukey, it’s your lucky day. No more crime-talk. We’ve upset the fairer sex.” Anakin joked, trying to break the mask of seasick green that covered your pretty face.

“Thank god.” He sighed in relief, changing the channel immediately, searching for something more friendly and less murdery. “This was supposed to be a cute double date. Not a gorefest.” He muttered under his breath.

Diary Entry: October 16

You know what? I complain in this little book a lot but honestly I just can’t help it. I’m a whiny guy sometimes and that’s okay. I can’t complain out loud. Even if I really wanted to. The other day made me feel kind of bad, after we left Luke and Han’s you were in a sluggish mood for the rest of the night. That’s okay, I get it. But I haven’t gotten all my fuckin’ done. I’ve been debating the possibility of digging Ghost back up just to get in a few extra rounds with you. I know you can handle it. You’ve done it before. Anyway, I get it. You need some time to process that conversation but please for the love of all things holy, do it quickly before I go bonkers. You’re always right here with me and I can’t get enough of you, it's always been like that but before I was able to have you so much more. I was fuckin’ for two.

Diary Entry: October 17

You keep texting Ghost. Why? It’s never a question. It’s never begging. You just tell him about your day. You tell him things you don’t tell me. Do you really love that side of me more? Is this love for the best version of myself not authentic? I wish you’d stop texting. It’d save me a world full of confusion. I don't know what the hell to do. I need you to stop. I don’t know that I want you to see the two of me blended together anymore. The longer this goes on, the more worried I’ve made a big fat mistake I become. Why do you trust him so much? It’s not like I didn’t lie to your face constantly. Knowing how badly you want Ghost to engage makes me want to bury him even deeper. I separated these two sides of myself for a reason, to give you the best and only the best. I lost that original goal somewhere along the way.

Date: oct 18th

“Can you hand me that big spoon please?” You asked Anakin as you worked around him in the kitchenette of his apartment.

“No.” He said flatly, even as he was handing it to you before you finished your sentence, making you snort softly.

“Thank you!” You said in a sing-songy voice, turning back toward the stovetop to finish stirring up the pasta sauce. “Are you almost done with those?” You asked over your shoulder.

“I’ll be done when I’m done darlin’. This takes time and precision.” Anakin said seriously, holding up a finger to signal you to wait.

“Ani…” You sighed, turning off the burner you were using and walking over behind him, pushing him to the side with your hip so you could see what he was doing. “Anakin SKywalker!” You gasped, smacking his arm.

“What?” He grinned, looking down at your red and embarrassed face. “You don’t like my cookies?” His lips in a pout.

“Just put them in the oven, we don’t even have time…” You tried to scowl but ended up with a downturned smile that gave way to surprise when you heard a knock at the front door. “See? No time to change them anyway.” You sighed.

“It’s unlocked!” Anakin shouted, scraping the left over chocolate chip cookie dough off his fingers with his teeth.

“Oh my god, this place looks… exactly as expected.” Luke snickered as he walked into Anakin’s apartment for the very first time, seeing his eclectic design and decor choices.

“Yeah, looks cool as hell.” Anakin nodded, a big grin on his face as he funneled a few stray chocolate chips into his mouth and then dusted his hands off over the sink before washing them thoroughly.

“Where’s this record collection you're always going on about?” Han asked, setting a big tote bag down on the center of the table.

“In my lair.” Anakin said, happily jogging over to his bedroom door to let Han look through them. “Feel free to dig around, I don’t mind.” He said as he flopped down onto his neatly made bed.

Meanwhile Luke was looking through the random trinkets and knick-nacks littered about the living area. Occasionally scooting something around to get a better look at it, like he was grocery shopping and searching for a ripe avocado. You heard a gasp and the sound of Luke’s ‘ew gross’ noise and quickly turned around.

“What the hell is this?” He squeaked, pointing to a jar on a shelf positioned above the couch.

“Oh, shit Luke. You scared me.” You laughed, walking over and standing up on the couch to grab the jar and bring it down for him to look at. “It’s a wet specimen.”

“It looks like a… I don't know.” He grimaced. “Is it a kitten?”

“It’s a rat.” You laughed, turning the jar slowly to give him the 360 view.

“Why the fuck would- Anakin?!” Luke shouted and after a few seconds both Han and Anakin came out of the bedroom. “Why?” Luke squeaked out, pointing to the jar is disgust.

“Oh! You met Bertie.” He grinned, walking over and picking up the jar. “Bertie was… a gift.” He said awkwardly.

“You got a rat in a jar… as a gift?” Han scoffed in disbelief.

“No, I got the rat as a gift. The jar came after.” Anakin grinned, putting the jar back up on the shelf. “Wet specimens are a form of taxidermy. Bertie was my first and only childhood pet. I wanted to keep him.” He shrugged.

“I’m… okay.” Luke blinked, sharing a look with Han. “Remember when I said he was too good to be true? I was right.” Luke frowned in disgust at the jar.

“Oh come on, it’s no big deal, we had stuff like this in the science lab in highschool. I thought it was sweet.” You defended Anakin’s odd keepsake because it really didn’t seem all that odd.

“Sweet?” Luke scoffed. “Babe. No.”

“Ah, leave him alone.” Han snickered. “You just picked up a stray cat and named him after your dead one. You’re weird too.”

“No. That’s different!” Luke insisted, crossing his arms and looking at you in hopes you backed him up but you were too busy giggling at the exchange to even pay attention.

“Ah, well. Don’t come crying to me when Art the second dies and you want him in a jar.” Anakin snickered, teasingly clapping Luke on the shoulder.

“That’s serial killer shit bro.” Han snorted, following Anakin over to the oven where the cookie timer was beeping.

“Oh yeah?” Anakin grinned widely, holding up his hand in a fist to bring down a few inches above Han’s chest. “What’s the Psycho sound effect? ‘Ree-Ree-Ree’?” He snort-laughed, bringing his fist down repeatedly in a stabbing motion.

Han laughed, dramatically going along with Anakin’s jest by slumping over on the counter and reaching out a hand for Luke, making a fake strangled gurgling noise. Anakin shot a big smile over at you before he bent down to pull out the cookie tray from the oven while Han straightened back up and went over to console a very unamused Luke.

“C’mon it was funny.” He laughed, putting an arm around him and steering him toward the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and gently shoved Luke down into it by the shoulder.

“How do you expect me to eat when there’s a dead rat in the room?” He asked in whiny voice.

“Anakin? Do you mind?” You prompted him with an apologetic glance.

“Ugh, fine.” He rolled his eyes and made his way to the shelf, grabbing Bertie’s jar and taking it to his bedroom to stow it away while Han and Luke stayed for dinner.

“Don’t you dare fuck with my cookies!” Anakin playfully shouted as he reentered the room to see you plating the cookies out of order.

“Oh come on.” You whined as he picked you up by the waist and carried you over to the table, sitting you down next to Luke.

“I think they put us in time out.” Luke muttered, his chin resting on his fist as he watched Han and Anakin filling plates and bowls for the four of you.

“Yeah.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you flipped on the tv. “Feels like it.”

“Eat.” Anakin said firmly as he sat down a bowl and plate in front of you, returning in a second with a glass of water. “Please.” He added in a sweeter tone as he kissed your cheek and sat down beside you with his own food.

“Gimme that.” Han said, snatching the remote from your hand. He turned his seat sideways to better view the tv as he searched for the local news.

“Wait, they’ll run it again in an hour.” Anakin said, snapping his fingers to get Han’s attention. “Remember how the ladies acted last time? You want it to be worse?” He gestured to the food on the table.

“Oh. Yeah you’re right.” Han chuckled, switching off the tv for the time being, deciding that the latest press release could wait until after dinner.

“Ladies?” Luke repeated with his jaw hanging open. “Han really?”

“What?” He snickered, turning his head to grin at Anakin. “He’s right. Just looking out for you hon.” He said, ruffling up Luke’s hair.

“Oh whatever.” You muttered under your breath. “You two are awful when you’re together.” You said jokingly to Han and Anakin.

Dinner went smoothly for the remainder of the time everyone was sat together at the table. The food you’d prepared and cooked alongside Anakin was much better than he gave himself credit for. He’d wanted to order in, insisting that Granny Lee at Thai Palace was a much better cook than either of you. (She was.) But you managed to convince him that it would be like a competition to see who could host better and that seemed to change his opinion very quickly. Even more so when you allowed him to take over making dessert all by himself. Which you sorely regretted.

“Cookies?” Anakin asked, a wicked grin spread from ear to ear as he placed the neatly lined up chocolate chip cookies down onto the center of the table. You sighed, blushing deeply as you hid your face behind your hands when Han busted out laughing and Luke started to giggle.

“Darlin’, go ahead.” Anakin prompted, rubbing between your shoulder blades while chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Choose one.”

The pristine white ceramic cookie platter held a baker’s dozen of chocolate chip cookies, each housing a letter made of chocolate chips.

G-O-H-O-M-E-I-M-H-O-R-N-Y

“I suppose I’ll just take the G.” You laughed, hiding your blushing cheeks with one hand while picking up your chosen cookie with the other.

“Momma always said you gotta send your guests home with a parting gift.” Anakin snickered, tonguing his labret piercing.

“Are you kicking us out?” Han laughed, grabbing a random cookie without a second thought.

“Nah, not yet. When the cookies are gone, you two better get going unless you want a show.” Anakin grinned, jabbing you in the ribs with his knuckles to tickle you and make you laugh despite yourself.

“Shut up!” You giggled, reaching up and behind yourself to gently smack his cheek.

“Ooh, feisty.” Anakin leaned down and tipped your chin up with his middle finger, planting a kiss to your lips before he yanked on your hair and sprinted away to the couch, leaving you with a scowl as you smoothed out your hair.

“Ready?” Han asked as he walked over and plopped himself down on the floor in front of the couch to watch the press release from the local police department.

_______________________________________________

A tall imposing police officer stood behind the dark stained oak podium, tapping a thin stack of papers into order on the wooden surface before clearing his throat and nodding to someone off camera. A few camera flashes could be seen as he leaned forward to speak into the handful of microphones situated on the podium.

“On October 13, 2024, at approximately 6:32 AM, the Police Department responded to a report of a possible homicide located at Revival Records within the East Side Mall." He made a short pause.

"Upon arrival, Officers met with an employee who wishes to remain anonymous, who discovered the deceased victim, a male identified by family members as Eric Codgins aged 24.” The officer waited a moment to flip to the next page of his pre-typed speech.

“Investigators were called in to begin immediate follow-up." He stated, looking up from his papers into the crowd.

"Those on scene learned that the victim had passed away while inside Revival Records during closing hours the previous night. The Coroner took possession of the deceased, and the results of the full autopsy are pending. The current information available reads: Victim is believed to have expired between 6:30PM to 8:30PM. The deceased was found to be missing several body parts which were found to be stowed away on the victim’s corpse.”

“There were several tools and other affects found at the crime scene that point to the work of at most, two individuals involved in the murder.” The officer sat down his papers, cleared his throat and stepped back to allow another officer to take over the podium.

------------------------------------------------------------

“Body parts?” You asked in surprise. “I thought they found him sitting up in a chair.”

“They did.” Han nodded in agreement as you made your way to the couch and settled against Anakin’s side.

“Well how did they… what parts are missing?” You asked in morbid curiosity.

“Baby they aren’t going to release that just yet.” Anakin said as he put his arm around you and planted a sweet kiss to the top of your head. “That’s the kind of thing they withhold for when they question someone.”

“Mmm, right yeah that makes sense.” You hummed in response.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“We will now allot for a brief Q and A session.” The new, younger looking officer announced as they stepped up to the podium. Looking immediately regretful as reporters and the like started shouting out questions.

“There have been many rumors circulating that this crime is occult in nature due to the brutality and mutilation to the deceased." The young officer paused with his lips pursed impatiently as the crowd began speaking over him.

"We have explored this lead in great excess and are confident that it does not fit the description of any satanic or otherwise occult crimes.” He responded, another round of loud shouting starting up the moment he stopped speaking.

“We are still working closely with the coroner’s office in determining the official cause of death as well as the murder weapon." He shifted on his feet as though uncomfortable with the information he was about to give.

"What we can share with you is that the main instrument used was some type of small, handheld double edged blade. Much like a tactical knife or pen-dagger. As well as certain types of butterfly or switchblade knives; both of these variants are illegal in our state.” The young officer responded, pausing and holding up his hand to signal for the room to remain silent as a fellow officer joined him for a moment to whisper something to him.

“I’ve just been cleared to confirm a frequently asked question on the case.” He cleared his throat as his colleague stepped back. “We are aware of the use of CCTV cameras that utilize time-stamped photos as a means of security are used throughout the mall and among several other stores and workplaces throughout the city."

"There is no immediate threat to other businesses or establishments that we are aware of, though we do urge business owners to update their surveillance technology to twenty four hour surveillance taping rather than timed photos.” The officer paused again while the crowd burst into another bout of questions.

“With that being said, our investigative team has determined the CCTV photos from the crime scene have not been altered, modified or tampered with in any way before or after the crime occurred." He continued, seemingly agitated that he was continuously being interrupted.

"The only camera on site that was tampered with was located in the service hallway behind Revival Records, via the use of spray paint.” He cleared his throat again, seemingly pausing for a deep breath before preparing to answer the next top question.

“It is not known how the perpetrators worked around the timed photos, though what we can say is that there is obvious movement of objects and the victim’s position in these stills. The only photo of a suspect we have at this time is the photo released earlier this week."

"The image is obscured in such a way that our team has been unsuccessful in enhancing it any further.” The officer stepped away from the podium as the first speaker came back into view to speak once more.

“This will conclude our Q and A session for the time being. Our hearts go out to the Codgins family who will be holding a public vigil for their son in the main square, downtown tomorrow at 5:00PM. We’d like to close this session by saying that while there are no current suspects, rest assured we are working diligently to find the persons responsible for this heinous act.”

------------------------------------------------------------

“Well that was a crock of shit.” Han scoffed, shaking his head as he reached up to his right side to squeeze Luke’s knee.

“Do you want to go?” You asked Anakin quietly, a hint of concerned understanding lacing your words.

“To the vigil?” Anakin asked, his eyebrows raised as if he were surprised you were asking. “I mean… do you think I should? I didn’t really know him that well.”

“Well I don’t know, I just thought maybe since you saw him so often you might want to?” You asked, leaning your head over on his shoulder while playing with the rings on his right hand.

“You knew him?” Luke asked in surprise.

“Kind of?” Anakin sighed, looking at the tv screen as he spoke. “I go to that record store all the damn time so I saw him quite a bit but it’s not like we were friends or anything.”

“Was he weird or like an ass or something?” Han asked curiously.

“What? No.” Anakin snorted softly. “He was just… normal I guess. I don’t know man, he was just the guy I handed my money to, you know?”

“Right, yeah I get that.” Han nodded, while you on the other hand just quietly listened to the conversation happening around you.

Noticing that something in Anakin’s voice had changed slightly, as though he weren’t fully engaged in the topic anymore despite still speaking about it somewhat in depth with the other boys. You assumed that he was busy watching the rest of the news broadcast still playing on screen and only giving the conversation a third of his attention, splitting it between petting you and halfheartedly watching the tv.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, disguising the question as a kiss on the cheek, knowing he probably wouldn’t appreciate you asking it aloud.

“Oh, yeah sweetheart.” He mumbled, bringing his hand up to twist the ring on the left side of his lip. “I’m all good, just thinkin’ that’s all.” He smiled.

“Okay Ani.” You said in a tone that let him know you didn’t exactly believe him, but you were willing to let it slide for now.

“So you guys want to watch a movie or something?” Anakin asked, licking over his top row of teeth.

“Yeah sure, but I want some drinks or something.” Han said, rubbing his palms together.

“I’ve got beer and that’s about it.” Anakin said with a shrug. “Or actually I think my girl’s got a bottle of wine, don’t you baby?” He asked.

“Yeah but we took it to my apartment, remember?” You said, patting his hand.

“What a shame, you live so far away.” He tsk’d, smiling crookedly.

“Speaking of, why don’t you guys just live together already?” Luke butted in, always one to ask awkward questions without a filter.

“Uh…” Anakin looked over at you as if he were asking permission to answer for the both of you, but you just shrugged. “You know, that’s a great question.”

“I guess we kind of already do live together. We always sleep in the same bed every night, just not always in the same apartment.” You said with a slight laugh.

“I always imagined when I found my person that we’d move into a house, not an apartment. So maybe that’s why.” Anakin said, standing up and pulling you with him.

“Are you saying you need a realtor?” Luke asked, his voice proving his excitement at having started this conversation and bringing up this topic. “I can call my mom. She’s got a realtor lady friend.”

“Oh yeah!” You nodded, “I remember her I think, blonde, scary acrylics?”

“Yep, that’s Amy.” Luke snickered, pulling out his phone and sending a text to his mother to get the information.

“Well I guess we’re house hunting then, hmm?” Anakin grinned, smacking your ass lightly to usher you along.

“I suppose we are.” You giggled excitedly, allowing him to usher you away from the couch without really knowing why he had gotten you up in the first place.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking down over your shoulder at his hand that was firmly planted on your ass.

“Walking with you to go get that wine.” He chuckled, glancing back to see Han and Luke chatting while Luke hung off the edge of the couch.

“Oh, right.” You nodded, letting him lead the way across the hall and into your apartment.

“So do you think I should go?” He asked the moment the door closed behind the two of you and you were in the hallway alone.

“Go where?” You asked in confusion. “The vigil?”

“Yeah, do you think I should go?” He asked, unlocking your apartment door and pushing it open for you, tonguing his lip piercings. “I knew him so like, i should right? Would it be weird if I did?”

“Ani, you’re overthinking it.” You sighed, picking up your cat as she sidled up beside you and rubbed against your leg. “If you want to go, then go and I'll come with you.”

“But I don’t want to go.” Anakin shook his head, leaning against the counter. “But I feel like I should.”

“Will it make you feel better?” You asked, scratching Boogie’s head.

“Nah, baby.” He shrugged. “I don’t feel bad in the first place, there’s nothing to feel better about.”

“Really?” You asked curiously, thinking it was odd that he was making such a big deal over it but still claiming he didn’t care. “How come? I mean you seemed friendly with him, didn’t you call him by some nickname?”

“Nickname?” Anakin scoffed. “No, that was an insult. Ferdinand, you know like the bull from that kids book? I called him that because he looked like an idiot with that big ol’ honking nose ring.”

“That’s a little hypocritical for someone who has a pound of metal in their face.” You pointed out with a sly smirk.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes at you, but smiled anyway.

“Ani, seriously though.” You said, sitting the cat down on the kitchen counter so you could walk over and smush yourself against him. “If you’re this worried about it, maybe you should go, just for your own peace of mind.”

“No, no you were right babydoll. I was overthinking it.” He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head.

“If you change your mind it’s okay.” You said softly, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest.

“I know darlin’. Thank you.” He murmured, tilting your head back in one of his massive hands to tenderly kiss you, barely parting his mouth to lick across the plumpness of your bottom lip. “You always know what to say. Always.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, smiling against his mouth.

“I love you baby.” He whispered, squeezing you a little tighter as he tucked his face into your neck, his knees bent slightly.

“I love you too.” You said quietly, your hand coming up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Alright let’s go back over there before I end up fuckin’ you.” He sighed, sniffing as he awkwardly tried and failed to shift his half-hard dick by kicking out one leg, resigning himself to shoving his hand down his pants instead.

“Really?” You snorted, smirking as a pink tint grew across your face.

“Yes really.” He grumbled. “Your fault. Bein’ all hot and shit all the time.”

“My bad.” You shrugged and giggled, grabbing the wine bottle from the fridge and following Anakin on the short trip back across the hall where you found Luke and Han now cutely cuddled up on the couch.

“Back already?” Han smirked, shooting Anakin a knowing look.

“We have company man.” Anakin grinned. “I can wait til after you’re gone. I’m not a complete horn-dog.”

You snickered, swatting at his chest before turning away to pour two glasses of wine, one for yourself and one for Luke, handing it to him before offering your glass to Han, but he held up a beer bottle to show he’d already found himself a drink. So you happily climbed back over into your preferred corner of the couch with Anakin, tossing the boys a blanket before covering yourself and Anakin up with another, getting settled in for your movie night.

Just before Anakin picked up the remote to search for something suitable to watch, the newscasters announced the arrival of newly released, or rather, leaked photos from the CCTV at the Revival Records crime scene.

—----------------------------------------------------------

“The photos on screen now show very miniscule changes between frames. Each picture is taken at thirty second intervals, these three photos are shown chronologically.” The female newscaster held up her hand to gesture to the left side of the screen where three photos were lined up, each with a slight change between them.

“Our sources state that the majority of photos are similar to these, depicting very small movements around the victim, whether it be objects moving across the counter or even the digital footprint of the computer which showed activity during the time of the attack.” She said, looking over to her co-host for them to take over.

“With no trace of the suspect or suspects in any of these photos, it’s hard to understand how this crime was committed. According to several twitter posts currently circulating, users are theorizing the crime was committed by someone with a military background or perhaps even a poltergeist.” The co-host said, cracking a smile at the end as a few different twitter posts went up on screen to back up their statement.

“With such a brutal crime occurring on Friday the 13th in October, there was bound to be some wild claims, especially due to the seemingly invisible perpetrator of the crime.” They said, quickly switching back to their professional approach. “Online users have officially dubbed the suspect ‘The Ghost’.”

__________________________________________

Your eyes snapped up to the screen as your vision went blurry, unsure that you’d heard correctly, your voice sounded far away as you asked Luke to confirm the newscaster’s declaration. After having it confirmed, a sweet taste leaked out into your mouth. Your fingers went to your lip slowly and as you pulled your hand away, you heard Anakin speaking to you as though muffled by water. The words were unclear but his tone was understandable enough that you nodded along with whatever he was saying and allowed him to leave your iron grip to grab a paper towel for you.

“Open up.” He said softly, his eyebrows pinched together in worry as he dabbed at your lip.

You did as he prompted and opened your mouth, hearing him wince as he pulled your bottom lip down carefully to expose the chunk you’d bitten out of the inside of your cheek. He sighed, tossing the remote to Luke so he could take over while Anakin tended to your self imposed wound. He carefully doctored you as best he could, wadding up a paper towel to soak up the blood trickling out to mix with your saliva while he put ice in a ziploc bag and wrapped it in a hand towel to hold against your cheek.

“You okay?” He asked worriedly, tilting and turning your face gently to check for swelling as he held the ice pack.

“Uh huh.” You nodded, your eyes not meeting his. “I’m okay.” You smiled weakly, standing up and taking out the paper towel that hindered your speech, tossing it in the trash can.

“Are you sure?” Anakin asked, following behind you closely as you curled back up on the couch and waited for him to settle beside you.

“I’m sure.” You said flatly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. “Can you just sit down? Please?” You asked impatiently as he stood in front of you, wearing that same concerned expression that had been there since the moment you injured yourself.

“Right, of course babydoll.” He nodded, swallowing hard as he sat down and pulled you over into his lap. “Is this better? Can I get you anything? You’re comfy?”

“Can you stop talking?” You grumbled quietly, nestling yourself against his chest as he put both arms around you and settled your lower half between his thighs, cradling you in his embrace.

“S-sure.” He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows but not complaining or prodding any further.

“What we can share with you is that the main instrument used was some type of small, handheld double edged blade. Much like a tactical knife or pen-dagger. As well as certain types of butterfly or switchblade knives…”

The police may not know what weapon was used. But you do.

The first half of Texas Chainsaw Massacre was spent in complete and utter silence between you and Anakin. An event that had never occurred before and you assumed would never occur again. He was always giving commentary, especially with movies he loved. This shouldn’t have been a quiet movie. He should’ve been yapping about what was going on behind the scenes, what props were used in place of other things, which lines were improvised, what he thought would’ve worked better had he been in charge of directing the film. But he was so, so silent.

“Where is it?” You whispered.

“Hmm?” He hummed as though he hadn’t heard you, but you knew by the way his heart sped up that he had.

“Where is it?” You repeated yourself, trying to keep your voice as low and monotone as possible so you wouldn't alert Luke or Han.

“Baby, I dunno what you're asking me.” He said quietly, shaking his head and putting his hand on the back of your head to hold you down against his chest when you tried to pull away to look at him.

“Anakin, no you-” You started, but stopped before the next word could be formed.

“Don’t tell me no.” He said sternly. Whispering into your hair as he threaded his fingers through it soothingly. “Everythin’s fine.”

“No, no I need you to tell me right now wh-”

Suddenly his mouth was on yours as he cupped your face in both hands, aggressively, passionately, angrily kissing you. If you couldn't have a verbal argument, he’d give you a physical one. He was telling you to shut up. You were telling him to please say something, anything. He was begging you to stop asking, you were begging him to come clean.

“Jesus you guys, get a room.” Luke snickered quietly and you felt Anakin’s hand leave your face, his arm moving upward quickly, presumably flipping him off before returning his hand where it belonged.

“Oh come on I was just joking, I don’t-”

“Shut up.” You and Anakin snapped at him in unison, turning your heads simultaneously and resuming your passionate wordless discussion.

“Ew oh my god.” Luke groaned, nudging Han.

“Leave ‘em be.” Han snorted, pulling Luke up from the couch and gently shoving him toward the kitchen to gather their things and before they’d even shut the door to the apartment Anakin was whipping his shirt off over his head.

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