#but in a week or two i can step it down a bit once my eyes aren't so dry i think

[pokeperson1000]

Rewind a bit to just when Nightwing began to openly show concern and hadn’t yet breached the circle.

A hollow laugh escaped the ghost king’s lips. His young appearance only further added to the broken impression he gave off.

“Ten minutes.” Everyone tensed.

“In a mere ten minutes, everyone in my fraid, everyone in my haunt, ceased to exist in this world.” He looked forward, eyes dull, not focusing on anyone in particular. “Those alive all died, those in their unlife had their existences ended. I got back just in time to see the last of them shouting to the heavens, cussing me out for abandoning them at the exact moment they would be the most at risk, before being Ended by those who deemed them less than animals.”

The statement was met with varying reactions. Tensed shoulders, dropped jaws, quiet gasps of disbelief. John Constantine stepped forward until he was in front of the circle alongside Nightwing who had come forth out of concern for the king’s dissociative silence. “Your majesty, our condol-”

“The first ten seconds,” the king continued, as if nobody had spoken, “I had spent in a panic. Doing nothing but demanding to be sent back immediately. The next fifty seconds, as I realized my situation, were spent offering the most favorable, unconditional deal to the people before me. A hard time frame, a short time frame to my next summoning. Offering up my knowledge, my skills, my services, my time. So long as I was sent back and managed to protect everything I ever cared for, nothing was off limits, everything was up for grabs. I swore it in my name.”

Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Giving nervous glances at each other.

A sigh. “Nine minutes. The next five hundred and forty seconds, or rather, the next five hundred and fifty two seconds, I spent begging, pleading, crying, remaining nonviolent and non threatening as possible, trying to convince my summoners- no, my *captors,* to send me back, that lives were at stake with every passing second.” Someone coughs uncomfortably.

He laughs the same hollow laugh. “The fact that all of Dark, and especially John Constantine, pain in the ass extraordinaire, had quickly been on my side, while the rest of the league, especially the founding members, had done everything in their power to delay me and have me act on a crisis that could have been delayed another two weeks with zero consequences, really painted quite a picture.”

He turned, making eye contact with Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, and everyone else one at a time as he continued to speak, “I didn’t manage to save anyone. Humans all gunned down or blown to pieces, Ghosts of the Infinite all had their cores shattered. And though my promise to offer everything was invalidated by the fact that I didn’t manage to return in time to save anyone, I was still bound by the reckless promise in my name to be summoned again in twenty four hours. I could not ask Clockwork to turn back time.”

A bright flash of light, leaving only a teenage boy in the place where the king once stood. Looking frail and defeated, he continued, “and fulfilling a promise made in my true name cements me into this timeline.”

His head snaps up, a burning fury in his teary eyes, /glaring/ at Batman. “All because some DAMN furry decided HIS problems were the most important and decided he could ignore the pleading and crying of a seventeen year old *kid* not even four years dead if it meant he could get a faster solution to his problem. And he had a whole exclusive *CLUB* with dozens, if not hundreds, of members who were willing to back him up in his belief that he was in the right. Fuck you, Batman.”

The fury abruptly extinguishes, tension drains from his body as he turns to face the wall, sitting down and hugging his knees. “This universe can burn for all I care. Nothing matters anymore.” A literal wall of ice grows to separate him from the rest of the room.

The silence that followed was stifling. Everyone present felt as though they could choke on it as they stared on at the boy who lost everything.

DP X DC

The Justice League summons the ghost king. Danny was in the middle of an emergency that only he could stop.

He screams and cries and begs them to send him back, tells them it's life or death, tells them they can summon him again in 24 hours just PLEASE send him back NOW everybody was going to die

They argue and deliberate for almost ten minutes before they send him back.

They summon him again the next day. He's different.

They try to talk to him but he just hangs there numbly, floating and staring at nothing.

Nightwing can't take it anymore. Maybe the ghost king is an eldritch god, but to him he just looks like a traumatised child.

Without hesitation, he steps into the circle (Constantine told them all to stay back from it the first time he summoned Phantom but what's the worst that could happen?)

Everybody protests but Constantine keeps them back, tells them more people in the summoning circle will only make things more dangerous.

So, Nightwing does his thing. He hesitantly approaches the loose ball of glowing limbs that is Phantom, talking gently as he goes.

He asks Phantom if he can touch him, and still gets no response. Just dull, dead eyes looking past him.

Cautiously, he lays a hand on the ghost-boy's shoulder. No response.

He pulls him into his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and talking softly.

All at once, the king crumbles. He turns into the one-armed hug, fisting a hand tightly into Nightwing's costume. He buries his face in the hero's shoulder and begins to sob. Terrible, wretched noises of agony.

Nightwing makes soothing noises to the child in his arms as he turns to meet eyes with the rest of the Justice League.

They summoned him in the middle of an emergency and instead of sending him back immediately they kept him there. Kidnapped him.

This was their fault.

[mymindisneverhere]

You Forgive Me?

Summary: Bianca is a stay at home wife who eventually gets tired of being home. However, planning a day out with the girls on Terry’s off day ends up causing a small disagreement. But Terry does what he can to make it up to her… happy wife, happy life. 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, a little angst, shower sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink. (Forgive me if I missed any.) 

Author's Note: This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. I haven’t written anything in a while but I hope you guys enjoy it! (If they won’t be together in real life, they'll be together in my world 🙃)

Bianca softly hummed along to the R&B music that played from the in-house speakers. The sweet melodies of Jodeci filled the home as she searched through the cabinets for seasoning. She was trying out a new recipe after flipping through pages of yet another new cookbook. A way to keep herself busy. 

Rasta Pasta was on the menu tonight and although she’d had it a few times in the past, she wanted to try and prepare it herself. She was adding the last few touches to the meal when she heard the house alarm beep a few times, alerting her that her husband was finally home from work. 

“Baby?” Terry called out to her from the front door. 

“In the kitchen!” She yelled. 

She lifted a finger to her iPad to lower the volume of the music then returned back to the stove without missing a beat. 

Terry’s heart fluttered once he entered the kitchen. He could smell the savory aroma as soon as he stepped foot inside of their home so he knew she was whipping up something good. However, the sight of her made him feel like he was experiencing her for the very first time all over again. 

“Damn it smells good in here.” He said, placing his keys on the counter. 

“Thank you.” Bianca smiled, still stirring the sauce for the pasta. 

Hugging her from behind, Terry placed a small kiss in the crook of her neck. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” She giggled a bit, mostly from the feeling of his goatee against her skin. The fact that she was so ticklish didn’t help her at all. The feeling of the thick hairs always caused her to wiggle more than she wanted to. 

“Stop Terry, you’re gonna make me spill this food.” She laughed, trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp. 

“Whatever.” He placed one last kiss on her cheek before releasing her. “How long before it’s ready?”

“About 10 minutes.” She replied, reaching up to grab two plates from the cabinet. 

“Cool, I’m about to go shower,” Terry started. “and my plate better be on the table with a strong drink next to it when I get back.” He finished, smacking her ass as hard as he could before hurrying out of the kitchen. 

“You better hope I don’t put something in that damn drink!” Bianca yelled, rubbing her left cheek hoping it’ll help the sting fade faster. “He plays so damn much.” 

While Terry showered, Bianca went ahead and set the table. She placed both plates down onto the glass table that sat in the window of the kitchen. Since it was only two of them she figured they’d eat at the smaller table instead of the larger one in the formal dining room.

She sat the plates right in front of the chairs that faced each other. Quickly making her way back over to the cabinets, she grabbed a short drinking glass for Terry and wine glass for herself. 

Terry was a simple man all the way down to how he preferred his drinks. 

“Two shots of Jack, a splash of ginger ale and a lime.” Bianca recited to herself, as if she didn’t have his favorite drink down to a science. 

She poured herself a tall glass of white wine, one that had been gifted to her from her best friend. Grabbing both glasses, she carefully walked herself over to the table and placed both drinks down just in time for Terry to return. 

“I know you’re down here, I smell your body wash.” Bianca said, not bothering to turn to fully acknowledge him. 

“I was just admiring you, that's all. I can’t do that?” Terry walked over to the table and pulled her chair out, signaling for her to have a seat. 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” 

The couple sat down and began sharing the details of their day with one another. As usual Terry said a mouthful. Everyday was a busy one for him, from creating the perfect blueprints to consulting with contractors to hiring constructions workers. The only downtown he was guaranteed was at home with his wife. 

However Jamie’s answer was always the same. After being married for just a year, she realized that being a stay at home wife wasn’t what she expected. They had no children so the house was always empty when he was gone. In the beginning she’d find herself constantly renovating their home and gardening to give their lawn a beautiful look. 

But after a while everyday started to repeat itself. Spending over three hours on the phone with her best friends who had finally convinced her that she needed more hobbies, she agreed. Staying at home and cleaning all day just to wait until her husband got home was gonna be the death of her. So she booked a few classes with her girls and hoped that this would be the start of a new life for her… one outside of just being Terry’s wife. 

“I have a workout class in the morning and then I’m  going out to brunch with the girls.” Bianca responded, taking a sip of wine. “I might do a little shopping at Michael’s afterwards, I think I wanna get into crafting.”

Terry looked up at her a bit disappointed. “But I’m off tomorrow, I want you to stay home with me.” 

“I don’t wanna be home though T.” She started. “Plus I won’t be out all day. I’ve been home all week and I’m getting tired of walking around this big ass house looking for something to do all day.” 

“I’ll be here though so it’s not like you’ll be bored.” Terry said, trying his best to get her to change her plans. “I already had plans for you to be here so you can just do the workout class and then come back home.”

Bianca looked up at him in disbelief. He nonchalantly returned back to his food. It was as if what he said was final. There was no way she was hearing him right. After everything she’d just told him, he was still insisting on her spending most of her day in the house, again. 

“I’m not changing my plans. You’ll see me when I’m done hanging with the girls.” Her tone was nothing less than stern. 

Terry’s eyes looked up to find hers already on his. They had a short stare down that seemed to last longer than it did. 

“I had my mind set, B.” He stated, taking a long pause in between saying her nickname. 

“Well no one told you to plan my day for me, T.” Bianca stated, slightly mocking him. 

He sat back, slightly frowning.  “I’m not planning your day, I just want you here while I’m here.” 

“I already told you I’ll be here once I’m done with everything and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore please. It’s ruining dinner.” Bianca said, stabbing her fork into her plate. 

Terry continued staring at her, shifting his gaze back and forth between her and her plate. He really wasn’t trying to piss her off but he did want his wife home with him on his first day off in a while. 

“I’m not hungry anymore.” The sound of her fork dropping into her plate caused his head to jerk back. She stood up and began to walk away from the table but Terry caught her arm. 

“Wait baby, I wasn’t trying to upset you.” He pleaded with her, grabbing her hand to pull her toward him. “I’m sorry. I’ll be here when you’re finished having your day out. No complaints, nothing.” 

The hold he had on her caused Bianca to lean against him unwillingly. She kept her gaze forward, avoiding his eyes as best as she could. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to forgive him so quickly. It always took a while for emotions to pass and Terry knew this. 

“Okay.” Was all she could say at the moment. 

He placed a kiss on her shoulder before asking, “Can you sit back down and finish eating dinner with me please?” 

Bianca stood from his grasp and walked back over to her chair. She picked her fork up and twirled it a bit, still not completely over their conversation. Terry tried his hardest to change the subject, get her to laugh, ask her questions about her shows she watched throughout the day. But Bianca was still pretty annoyed, answering him with the shortest answers and the driest tone she could muster up. 

Next day 

“When are you gonna answer the phone?” Francesca, one of Bianca’s best friends asked as they slowly walked down each aisle of the craft store. 

“When I get ready.” Bianca’s phone rang twice every hour and buzzed even more. Terry was trying to do his usual check up on her, just to see if she was okay. However, Bianca was still in her feelings about last night. 

“I’m not gonna tell you to stop being mad at him but girl he just wanted you with him. If he didn’t love you, he would’ve been pushing your ass out the door!” Francesca said, reaching up to grab a bundle of fake roses. 

“It’s not that, Ches,” Bianca started. “It’s the fact that he tried to blow off the plans I had for myself because he wanted the day to go his way. I told him how much I was getting tired of being home everyday and that I finally found some things I wanted to try. You know, to keep myself busy.’

‘He pretty much was just like ‘well you can do one of those things but fuck the rest’.” 

Francesca stopped walking and stared blankly at her friend. “He did not say that.” 

“Well in so many words he did.” Bianca rolled her eyes. 

“Did he apologize, B?”

“Yeah but...” Bianca trailed off. 

“But?” 

“I’m still mad at him so I don’t care.” Bianca said, lifting her phone. “And look, he’s not even calling anymore so he doesn’t care either.” 

“That man has to have the patience of a damn disciple to deal with your stubborn ass.” Francesca said, continuing to walk down the aisle. 

“Whatever.” 

Bianca pulled into the driveway of her home and noticed Terry out in the yard. He was down on one knee, sweat dripping from his forehead as he pulled chunks of dirt from the ground. He was dressed in a white tank top and denim overalls which automatically told her…

“I know he is not fucking with my plants.” She mumbled to herself. 

So caught up in her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed him stand to his feet and walk toward her car. She immediately sat back in her seat and pretended to look for something in her purse. 

*Knock Knock* 

Bianca’s head turned to her window to see Terry leaning down a bit. Pushing the button on the door, she cracked the window and tilted her head to the side. 

“What?” She asked. 

Terry just stared at her with raised brows. He knew she was trying her hardest to stay mad at him which was why he refused to match her energy. 

“I saw you staring at me when I pulled in, why you acting like you didn’t see me coming?” 

“I didn’t.” She lied. 

“Unlock the door.” He said, standing up straight. 

“No.”

“Bianca stop playing and unlock the damn door.” 

Another stare down, only this time Terry hadn’t looked away which meant he wasn’t walking away from the car until she did what he asked her to do. 

*Click* 

The sound of the car doors unlocking at once caused Terry to pull the door open. Peeking his head into the car, he looked in the back seat only to find a few shopping bags and a yoga mat. 

“You still mad at me?” He asked, turning his head to face her. 

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t think you are.” 

“Okay so why’d you ask?” She said, cocking her head to the side. 

Terry chuckled, trying to ignore the smart remark. 

“Do you want me to be mad?” Her brows lifted a bit, hoping she’d get the answer she wanted. 

“No Bianca.”

“Then why are you frowning?” 

“I’m frowning because it’s hot out here.” Terry responded. “And because I didn’t see my credit card in my wallet this morning but I see bags in the backseat. You took my card to go shopping?”

“Duh.” She said, before pressing the button to shut off her engine. “Can I get out of the car please?” 

Terry took a few steps back as Bianca stepped out of the car, pushing the door back purposely to make Terry step back even further. She opened the back door and grabbed her things before slamming it shut. Terry stood there still holding onto the driver's door as if she was about to get back in the car. 

“You wanna have a staring contest or you gonna close my door?”

Terry chuckled again, this time looking off to the side as he pushed the door shut. She was testing him and she was doing it on purpose. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he looked back down at her and motioned for her to hand him the bags. 

Bianca lifted them to his hands and dropped them before stepping around him to walk into the house. Right as she reached the front door she looked down at her plant bed. 

“Why are you pulling up my plants?” She asked, frowning a bit from the sunlight. 

“I was pulling up the weeds, I didn’t touch your plants.” Terry responded. 

Bianca rolled her eyes, not bothering to say thank you. He was clearly doing her a favor, a way to try and get back in her good graces. But stubborn is as stubborn does. She walked into the house and made her way to the kitchen.

“I brought you some food from Texas Roadhouse if you want it. It’s in one of those bags.” Bianca dryly stated, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“Thank you baby.” He placed the bags onto the counter and walked over to her. He stood there waiting for her to acknowledge him. 

“What?” She eyed him up and down. 

“Can I have a hug?”

“No. You’re sweaty and you stink!” She replied, taking a step away from him. 

“You love me unconditionally though, right?” Terry said, grabbing her and hugging her anyways. 

“Terry stop! You get on my nerves!” Bianca put her hands up to his chest, pushing him as hard as she could but he didn’t budge. 

“Tell me you love me and I’ll let you go.” 

“Get off of me!” Bianca yelled. 

“Say it.” Terry smiled, laying his head on her shoulder to rub more of his sweat on her. 

“I love you now move!” 

He released her, laughing at the face she was making as she wiped his sweat off. She tightened the top on her water bottle and threw it at him, cursing him for playing too much yet again. 

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

Bianca walked into their bathroom with a towel draped over her arm. Not noticing Terry in the conjoined closet, she turned the knob and stood back as she waited for the water to pour from the shower head. 

When she turned around she met Terry’s gaze, that same smirk from earlier across his face. 

“I need to shower.” She said dryly. 

“You just wanna shower with me.” He said, walking out of the closet with nothing but his briefs on. 

“Boy please.” 

Bianca looked down briefly before returning her eyes to his. She tried to act as if she didn’t notice the bulge in his pants but the breath that caught in her throat gave her away. He licked his lips as he used his thumbs to push down his shorts, never breaking their gaze. 

With a swift motion, his dick sprang out. Only semi hard but still a sight to see nonetheless. Bianca rolled her eyes as she brushed him off, trying her hardest to keep her eyes leveled with his. 

Terry stepped into the shower, reaching for the knob on the far left and turning it up so the water would run hot. He stood just an inch under the shower head, as he let the water flow down his body. He chuckled to himself knowing Bianca was watching him. 

Unapologetically, she was. Trailing her eyes down the length of his back to his tight ass. She was trying so hard to stay in her feelings but she wanted him inside of her as soon as possible. 

Not wasting any more time or water, she quickly tossed her workout clothes to the floor and stepped under the shower head to the far right. The two of them stood quietly, only the soothing sounds of water splashing filled the room. 

Bianca closed her eyes, appreciating the warm water that soothed her. Her hands danced around her body. Running her fingers over her stomach, down to her thighs and back up to her chest. She was so caught up in her own trance that she didn’t notice Terry stepping away from his side of the shower. 

Planting a kiss on the nape of her neck, he gripped her waist gently. Bianca’s eyes snapped open, almost forgetting she wasn’t alone in the bathroom. 

“Terry, you're still dirty.” She said, only verbally protesting. 

“I‘ve been in here longer than you.” He said in a low tone, still placing kisses on the back of her neck and shoulders. 

“I don’t smell soap.” 

Terry ignored her and continued kissing her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“I’m not even clean yet.” She stated, still trying to stop him… barely. 

“A little salt never hurt nobody.” His tongue ran across her shoulder, sending a quick chill down her spine. Terry never gave a damn about her being sweaty or even hairy. If he wanted it, he was gonna take it however it came. A man. 

Eventually her head fell back, allowing him more access to wherever he wanted to lick and kiss. 

His hand traveled down in between her legs while the other toyed with her nipple. Her hands followed his, rubbing his forearms while her eyes slowly closed. Steam traveled past the glass doors as his fingers slipped in between her lower lips. Dipping his middle finger slightly into her hole, he used her juices to tease her clit. 

Terry’s lips never left her neck. He knew they couldn’t be too long because her hair would eventually begin to revert which meant more maintenance for her. So he purposely tended to her spots, heightening her arousal. Her hips fell into a rhythm with his fingers, rolling them as her ass pressed against his now rock hard dick. The friction from her ass against his length made him let out a deep moan. 

“Fuck me.” She breathed bluntly, two words he was waiting to hear. 

Without thought he walked her forward a bit, until her palms hit the wall. He reached down and gripped his dick, positioning it right in between her legs. He thrusted his hips a few times, using her pussy to wet his tip. Pulling back a bit, he pressed against her opening and entered her without any resistance. 

Bianca’s back arched, trying to position herself so that she could feel every inch of him. He instantly gripped her hips and pumped in and out of her. Loud sounds of her ass slapping against his skin echoed throughout the bathroom. The water continued to run down Terry’s back as he rammed her, chasing his much needed nut. Her cheek pressed against the wall, eyes rolling into her head while she chewed her bottom lip. 

Terry had never been a minute man but he was always a considerate man… sometimes too damn considerate. She knew how much her husband loved being inside of her and she loved feeling him slide in and out of her. He was thrusting into her with so much passion but she didn’t want him to cum so soon. 

“Slow down baby, not yet.” She moaned.

“But your hair...” Terry said, never ceasing his movement. 

“I don’t care about that, I wanna feel you.” And he knew exactly what she meant. 

Always following her orders, he slowed up. Pulling his hips back until he could slightly see the head of his dick, he pushed back into her slowly. He kept his strokes long and deep, waiting to hear her hum of approval. She licked her lips, smirking a bit from the feeling of his thick dick filling her walls. 

“Yeah, like that daddy.” A blend of a whine and moan as she closed her eyes. 

He tilited his head to the side to watch her face as he fucked her. He bit his lip watching her expressions change, slapping her ass a few times just to hear her hiss from the pain. He looked down to watch the length of his dick gradually become coated in her cream. He quietly cursed to himself before placing his gaze on her again. Watching her bottom lip slip from her teeth, her eyebrows curled upward and when her jaw dropped he knew what was next. 

“Yesssss, oh fuuuuuck.” She cried as she felt her orgasm build. 

His pace increased, pounding her and gripping her hips tighter. His ass cheeks clenched with every pump in an effort to get an even deeper dig into her.

“Cum on that dick baby.” Terry said, licking his lips as he watched his dick go in and out. 

She called out his name a few times, eyes rolling into her head as her orgasm strengthened. She tapped the wall a few times hoping he’d let up just enough for her to catch her breath but he didn’t. The feeling of the tip of his dick pressing against her cervix caused her to bring her body forward, trying to run from him. She’d inch her body closer to the wall and he’d take a step forward right along with her. 

Bianca lifted onto her tiptoes a bit, cursing again and again until he finally pulled out with another hard slap to her ass. 

She let out a deep breath, licking her parched lips and dragging her hands down the wall.

“Come here.” Terry pulled on her hips causing her to face him. 

Without warning she was lifted off of her feet, her arms naturally wrapped around his neck while his arms snaked beneath her thighs. Gripping her ass, he lifted her just enough then lowered her down onto his dick. He watched her face closely as her eyes rolled closed. Lifting her up and down effortlessly, he grunted as he felt her tighten around his dick. 

“Relax baby, I got you.” He said. He could feel her grip on his neck loosen just a bit. Her bun eventually fell into a ponytail that bounced up and down along with her. Dropping his eyes down to watch her titties bounce as well, he slammed her down onto his dick over and over again.

“Fuck daddy, yes!” She yelled, gripping the back of his neck tighter than before. 

Her nails dug into his skin but the pain went unnoticed. He was so focused on the mess she was making, the white mess that was settling at the base of his dick. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She chanted with every thrust. The sounds of her whining as she came wouldn’t allow him to let up until she was damn near begging him to. He could feel her grip loosen again which let him know that she was getting ready to tap out. 

Terry pressed her back against the wall, placing his palms flat on the tile. With her knees pinned to her sides, there was no room for her to wiggle or run from him this time. Finally lifting his eyes back to hers, he pushed his hips forward, digging into her as he studied her expression… it was his favorite part of fucking her. 

Her brows were lifted a bit and her eyes were low. She hadn’t quite bounced back from her second climax but that was a good thing for Terry. Keeping his momentum, he wanted her to remain slightly out of it. Her moans were always music to his ears when she was like this, so raw and unfiltered. She whimpered and whined, trying to speak but forgetting her words. Her mouth sat slightly open as her eyes met his. The soft green irises stared at her so intensely, she damn near wanted to break eye contact. 

“You still mad at me?” He asked, never changing his pace. 

“No…” She cooed with a stuttered exhale. 

“You forgive me?” 

“Yes!” She moaned, nodding her head. 

“Yeah?” He nodded along with her. “Tell me.”

“I forgive you daddy, I forgive you!”

He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, kissing her while she repeated herself like a broken record. 

She was cumming again, this time unable to hold on to him which was fine because he didn’t plan on dropping her. The gushy sounds of her pussy seeping was turning him feral. She could feel him biting at her jaw, moaning as he fucked her without remorse. 

Her eyes finally opened, landing on the mirror that had lost its fog long ago. She watched his ass tighten with every thrust, the amount of stamina this man had was beyond her. The muscles in his back flexed as he kept her pinned tightly against the wall. 

His head lowered to the crook of her neck where he continued to nibble at her skin. The growl that escaped his lips let her know that he was close. 

Able to come to her senses for a split second, she encouraged him in the best way she could. 

“You gonna cum in my pussy daddy?” 

A shuttered moan left his lips. He was ready to fold and although she’d witnessed it a hundred times in the past, she never got tired of it. 

“Fill this pussy up baby.”

“Oh shit.” He moaned. 

Bianca’s eyes were locked on him in the mirror. The visual of his body flexing over and over again as he fucked her had Bianca thanking God for that damn mirror. 

Bianca turned her head slightly and dipped her tongue into his ear. Still staring at their reflection in the mirror, she smirked to herself as she watched his hips twitch.

“Fuck!” Loudly escaped his lips through gritted teeth as he locked his hips in place, pressing himself against her body as closely as he could. She could feel his dick twitch inside of her as cum oozed from his tip. 

“Mmmmm.” She hummed in satisfaction, loving the feeling of his warm seed inside of her. 

Bianca’s walls contracted out of habit which caused Terry to pull his now sensitive dick out of her. He reached down to turn the shower knob, cutting the water off completely but still keeping Bianca pinned. The only sound in the bathroom was their breathing, loud and heavy. 

Bianca placed kisses on his neck, rubbing the back of his head as he caught his breath. Silent curses left his lips as his shoulders lifted and dropped in pattern with his breathing. 

“We have to shower now, baby.” She said, still kissing him. 

“I wanna go to bed.” Terry mumbled, head still buried in the crook of her neck. 

“After you shower.” She tapped his shoulder, signaling to put her down on the ground. 

Carefully removing his arms from under her legs, he placed her down and wrapped his arms around her waist. Still struggling to catch his breath, he dropped his head back down to her shoulder. He was damn near dropping all of his weight onto her. 

“Terry.” She said, trying to get him to stand up straight. 

“Give me five minutes.”

Bianca kissed her teeth, giggling at his sudden exhaustion. Reaching behind him, she turned the middle knob that controlled the waterfall shower hanging directly above them. The water rained down on the two. Snatching the rubber bands out of her hair, she left the waterfall directly onto the top of her head down to her feet. 

‘Fuck this ponytail.’ She thought. 

The two lovebirds spent the rest of the time bathing one another and cleansing each other's hair. 

Finally stepping out of the shower to prepare for bed, they both threw on their night time clothes. After lathering her body with lotion, she walked into her bedroom to ask Terry if he wanted her to heat his food. 

When she heard the sound of soft snores she smiled, amazed at how tired he really was. Laying flat on his back with an arm thrown above his head, the other across his chest, he didn’t even get a chance to tuck himself in. 

Pussy put him to sleep… I guess. 

(They water bill bout to be high as hell… Please excuse any mistakes. 🩵)

Taglist: @notapradagurl7 @saturnville @kykylovesblog @ovohanna24 @saltburnsworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @blackmoonchilee @blckblossom @kaylaahisthebestest-

(I added those who were on my last taglist, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.)

[guinevereslancelot]

this eye care routine is a lot

[preciosapascal]

Trouble

Summary: You planned to spend the summer at Sarah's, but you show up a day early and she’s not there. Joel doesn't mind.

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Best Friends Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings/info: 18+ MINORS DNI, pics for mood only, no outbreak au, reader is early-mid 20's and Joel is 47, pet names (darling, baby, ect), SMUT, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill), one or two uses of pussy pronouns, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, Joel is a lil bit of a perv

A/N: i'm honestly blown away by the amount of love my last story got! thank you so much! been on and off writing this one for a couple of weeks. i hope you enjoy, feedback is much appreciated! if you're interested in my other stories, here's my masterlist 💝

Being best friends with Sarah has it's perks, main one being that she's an amazing friend and you've been inseparable since you met a couple years back in college. Another being you got to spend the last two summers at her house. And the other perk being that her dad is hot. Like really hot.

When you first met him, you thought he was a grumpy bastard, and he can be, but he warmed up to you the more time you spent at the house. You'd share beers with him some evenings, Sarah there too - and tell him all about college, your family and anything else that came up during the conversation.

You once mentioned to Sarah that you thought her dad was 'handsome', putting it lightly, and she laughed her ass off - then told him. You could've died on the spot when she brought it up over pizza that night but you stood your ground, fighting the embarrassment.

"Just being honest." you shrugged, nudging Sarah before glancing at Joel and trying to gauge his reaction. He just laughed quietly, shaking his head. He liked it, whether he'd ever admit it or not.

You laugh at the memory as you drive to their house to stay for the summer for the third year running. Music playing, windows down and a duffle bag full of half of your closet in the trunk. When you arrive you decide you'll grab your bag later and lock your car before walking toward the front door and knocking.

Joel answers after a few seconds, a small smile on his lips. "Afternoon, trouble.”

You're very thankful for the sunglasses that sit on your face as you fully check out the gorgeous man in front of you. Plaid shirt, blue jeans, greying hair combed back. How does he look better every time you see him?

"Sarah's out, staying with Tommy and Maria to babysit while they renovate, not due back till tomorrow mornin'. She not tell you?..."

"Ah shit, no no - she did, I completely forgot." you reply, realising you mixed up the days. The original plan was to come today until Sarah texted you last week to make it a day later, which slipped your mind.

Joel leans against the doorframe, arms crossing over his broad chest; a sympathetic smile graces his lips. He eyes you for a moment, taking in your appearance.

You sigh, pushing your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head. Joel stifles a small chuckle, making you laugh and then pout. "Not funny."

He can’t help but laugh softly to himself at your pouty expression, "Poor darlin’.” he muses teasingly then nods his head into the house, “Come on in, anyway.” he steps aside, giving you room to enter.

"You sure? You don't have to invite me in out of pity." you laugh, though you're internally screaming at the thought of being alone with him.

Joel light-heartedly rolls his eyes and tuts. He gestures to the couch that peeks from around the side of the door. “Make yourself at home, m'gonna grab us a beer if y'want one?" he asks, turning to you as he walks towards the kitchen and you nod in response.

Once you get settled on the couch, Joel fully disappears into the kitchen, and reappears a moment later with two beers. He takes a seat in the chair adjacent from the couch, hands you a beer he opened for you already then opens his own.

It’s quiet for a few beats as he flips the cap off, then Joel says, “No boyfriend or anything yet then?."

You thank him for the beer and then scoff a laugh at his question. "Nah, had a few flings here and there but nothing serious, y'know?" you reply before sipping the cold beer. "

Joel takes a swig of his beer, watching you with a curious expression. “That right? Ain’t found the right guy yet? Cause I'm having trouble understanding what would make a guy not want to stick around.”

You shake your head as you swallow your mouthful, feeling a blush threatening to appear at his comment. "I’m not trying to settle down right now. Whatever happens, happens."

Joel chuckles in response then took another swig from his beer. “You're a bit of a free spirit, aintcha?” he teases, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"I guess so." you smile, crossing one leg over the other.

Joel’s gaze slowly travels down to your ripped jeans clad legs. Damn, he thinks to himself, you look good. He averts his gaze, forcing himself to think about literally anything else.

"What about you then, hm? No girlfriend yet?" you throw his question right back at him.

Joel scoffs and shakes his head. “Nah, m’not looking either.”

You huff a laugh at the similarity in your answers, yet for some reason, as if it means well for you - your stomach flutters.

"I hear ya." you say, holding your beer out towards him with a playful grin.

Joel mirrors your action and brings his own bottle up to clink it against yours. “To bein’ single, then. Damn, what a depressing toast.”

You laugh, agreeing with him. “To being single." you repeat before you both sip from your bottles.

Silence falls over the room, but it's not awkward, it's comfortable. Joel couldn’t help but steal another glance at you, shamelessly eyeing your figure for a few moments while you checked your phone.

“Guess I’d better grab my bag out of my car.” you sigh, standing up and stretching. Then you pause. “Sarah did tell you I’m staying for the whole summer again, right?”

Joel nods his head in affirmation, “She did. You're welcome to stay tonight too, sweetheart. I'll keep outta your hair."

You smile and nod, placing your beer down before he continues. "Stayin’ here for the whole summer another year running, huh?” he's immediately hit with memories of how loud you and Sarah can get.

"Mhm. Lucky you." you retort with a cheeky grin before grabbing your car keys.

Joel chuckles and shakes his head, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Real lucky.” he says sarcastically as you disappear to fetch your bag. He has another gulp of his beer, his gaze lingering on the spot on the couch where you were sitting.

Joel looks over at you with raised eyebrows when you re-enter the house, taking in how big your duffle bag is. “Geez, how much stuff you got in there?”

“Enough for the whole summer, hopefully. Gonna take this upstairs to Sarah’s room.” you grab the handles, attempting to lift it yet you struggled earlier and your neighbour kindly offered to help lift it into your car because you couldn't lift it high enough to shove it into the trunk.

Joel watches in amusement for a minute as you struggle then he stands up and walks over to you, putting a hand on your arm to stop you. "Woah, woah, hold on. Lemme help you with that, darlin'."

He gently takes the bag off of your shoulder, his fingers grazing your shoulder. "What're you packin' in here? Rocks?"

"Clothes, shoes, accessories, y'know...girl stuff." you move back, opening and closing your hand a few times to get the feeling back.

Joel slings the bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing, and you feel a jolt of arousal shoot though you as wonder if he could lift you just as effortlessly.

What you don't realise is that Joel can practically feel your gaze on him the whole time, making him smirk to himself. When he gets to the top he turns around with a smug smile on his face.

"See? Wasn't so hard was it?" he says teasingly, holding that bag up with one hand to prove his point.

"Yeah, yeah." you reply, waving him off.

He playfully rolls his eyes before he walks into Sarah's room, setting your bag down with a thud. You thank him as he descends the stairs before walking back to your spot on the couch and taking your beer.

Joel settles back into his seat. Another comfortable silence washes over the two of you briefly until Joel brakes it.

“Soo,” he drawls, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his gaze meets yours. “How much trouble you plan on causing during your lil’ visit?”

You lean back into the sofa more and exhale an amused puff of air from your nose. "Oh, tons, obviously."

Joel chuckles at your response, shaking his head slightly. His gaze remained on you longer than necessary. The way you were lounging back against the couch was making it difficult for him to think clearly.

“You wanna watch a movie or somethin' before I bore ya to death?” he nods towards the TV, waiting for your reply.

"Oh stop it, you're not boring but sure, a movie sounds good to me."

Joel stands up, grabbing the remote and takes a seat on the other side of the couch you're on this time, only so he could see the tv better, of course, then scrolls through the movie options. "You got a specific movie in mind, trouble'? Or am I pickin'?"

"I'll watch anything, you pick." you say, making yourself more comfy, shifting on the couch and tucking your legs under you.

He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on the way you nestled into the couch, legs tucked under, comfortable. He swallows, focusing back on the TV. He scrolls through the available movies, and after a few moments, settles on a comedy movie. When the opening credits begin to play he settles back into his seat, taking another swig of his beer. His gaze drifts to you every few minutes, he's hyper aware of your presence only one seat away.

At a particularly funny moment, out of habit, you reach out and grasp Joel's forearm as you laugh. It's something you've always done, something Sarah was used to. He jolts slightly in surprise, the touch sending tingles up his arm. He glances down at your hand on his forearm then back up to you. He can vaguely recall you doing this with Sarah but had never been on the receiving end himself.

You catch yourself, reminding yourself who you're with. "Oh god, sorry. I do it to Sarah all the time." you explain, smiling sheepishly and patting his arm before retracting your hand.

He slowly relaxes his shoulders, the corners of his lips tugged into a smile you apologize. "S'alright, no need to apologize." he says, his voice raspy, his southern drawl more evident than usual. In that moment, Joel realises just how much trouble he really is in.

The movie continues playing, but Joel finds it harder to pay attention. The feeling of your hand on him still lingered on his skin, and he found himself wanting more. Instead, he takes his last gulp of beer, his gaze shifting back to the TV. He clears his throat softly before abruptly standing up.

"Another?" he asks, shaking his empty beer bottle and nodding towards yours. You agree, handing him your empty bottle when he holds his hand out for it.

He heads to the kitchen to grab two more beers, taking a minute to collect himself.

He returns, the necks of the beer bottles between his fingers and hands one to you, sitting back down but just a bit closer this time. You notice his sleeves are rolled up now and you can't help gazing at his arms. You're unsure if it's just because they're attached to him or if he really does have nice arms. God you need to get laid soon.

You untuck your legs that now ache slightly and stretch them out before placing them on Joel's lap, a playful grin on your face.

Joel feels his heart rate quicken as you place your legs on his lap and he has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from letting out a single sound.

"Comfy, huh darlin'?" he asks, his voice a little hoarse.

You laugh a little, looking over at him. "I am. You make a great foot rest, actually."

Joel chuckles at your playful words. "Glad I could be of service." he replies, trying to ignore the way your laugh sends jolts of arousal straight to his dick. He takes another gulp of beer, his gaze flickering down and his hand almost moves on its own accord, lightly resting on your ankle.

Late afternoon turns into evening, evening turns into night as you continue watching movies and drink a couple more beers. He's become accustomed to your legs on his lap, and each time you return from making a trip to the kitchen or to the bathroom, he waits the few seconds it takes you to sit back down and rest your legs on him once more. You've both had a few more beers than intended. Joel is feeling a pleasant buzz, and he can tell that you are too.

As the night wears on, Joel gets more bold and starts slowly tracing his fingers up your calf. He only moves a little each time, testing the waters. He keeps his gaze fixed on the movie, but his mind is going wild, his heart thumping in his chest and his dick twitching in his pants.

You swallow hard as his fingers reach the bare skin between the rips in your jeans, while you're trying your hardest to seem unbothered as your eyes are also fixed on the screen.

It feels like you've got an angel and devil on your shoulders like those old cartoons. The angel is telling you that this is a bad idea, stop this right now, this is your best friends dad. Yet the devil is telling you to go for it, you want it, ride it out and hell, ride Joel too.

Joel’s fingers continue their slow journey upwards, tracing circles on the denim. He’s hyper-aware of every movement you make, every hitch in your breath. He knows he's playing a dangerous game, but right now, he doesn’t care.

Over the next few minutes, the movie long forgotten now, his fingers move further, now tracing lazy patterns on the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. He can feel the tension between you growing. He looks over at you, his gaze hooded and heavy.

You can feel his gaze and look over. When your eyes meet, a moment of pure heat and undeniable desire passes between you. There's a fire there, and it's growing with each passing second. Joel's hand continues its slow, rhythmic movement, his thumb lightly grazing the skin of your thigh. His gaze is intense, unyielding.

You mentally flick the angel off your shoulder and mutter "fuck it." before shifting your position so you're now kneeling beside him and turn his face toward you to press your lips against his.

Joel is momentarily caught off guard by your bold move. His mind is screaming this is a bad idea, but his body is singing a different tune. A low moan escapes him, his eyes fluttering shut on reflex.

His free hand immediately grasps the nape of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. The moment his tongue flicks out to glide against yours, his restraint snaps. He grips your hips with his large hands and tugs you onto his lap.

Suddenly his lips are hot against your neck, trailing a line of kisses as his hands slide from your hips under your shirt, resting on your bare waist.

He pulls back, breathing heavy and looking at you. "C'mon, my room. Not doing this in the family room." he mumbles, pulling you up by your hand. You understand and let him lead you to his room and as soon as you're in there, you resume the position, his back against the headboard and you straddling his lap.

You moan softly as his lips and greying scruff move against your neck again. You've only imagined this hundreds of times before and now it's happening, all reasoning and goodwill and out the window.

With how easy it is for him to slip into this, and you, you're rethinking everything that's ever happened. Everything you've ever convinced yourself was Joel just being friendly, fleeting looks, touches, everything. You know for sure now it was what you thought.

“You know exactly what you’ve been doing. A-always hovering around when I’m here with Sarah…touching my back when you walk past me…” you whisper, slowly rocking your hips against his.

“Fuck, I know.” he rasps, his hands moving up to your hips, holding you in place to match your rhythm. You take your chance to place kisses on his neck. He smells faintly of cologne and a natural manly musk that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

"Always teasing me." you murmur between kisses against his neck.

Joel lets out breathy curse and rolls his head back to give you more access. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping tightly to chase the delicious friction between you. “Teasing you? Darlin’ I was trying to be a fuckin’ saint.”

You place a couple more kisses on his neck before lifting your head from his neck, moving your arms to hang loosely over his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Yeah? Walking around in only a towel after your shower? Leaning over me at the table to grab stuff?” you continue grinding your hips down onto his as you speak.

Joel’s eyes go nearly black as you recount his actions, and it finally occurs to him that he wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought he was, and he loves it.

He pushes you down onto his bed on your back and lifts your tank top, his calloused fingers grazing the skin of your sides.

“What about you? When you’d bend all the way over just to grab somethin' from the refrigerator when you knew I was behind you? Paradin' yourself around my house in your tiny shorts?"

You mindlessly run your nails gently up and down his arms as he hovers over you. "I knew you were watching. Always watching when I'm here, aren't you Joel?" you ask, tilting your head.

Joel yanks the fabric over your head and tosses it to the floor, his eyes roaming over your chest covered by a lacy white bra. He leans down, chest pressed against yours, and responds in a gruff tone

“Like a damn hawk, darlin’.” His large hands trail up your sides, his head dips down to graze his lips across your collar bone. “Always watchin'…listenin' to you, smellin' your sweet perfume all over my fuckin' house.” he murmurs against you.

You think back to the fact you used to spray it everywhere, hoping to god it had this sort of affect and you almost smirk.

He hums against your neck, his hands roaming down to your jeans, finger and thumb making quick work of the button. “Thought I was going crazy.” he mumbles, tugging on the zip. “Could smell you everywhere...was like torture.” he says, moving back and pulling your jeans off, throwing them aside too.

“Fuck…I imagined us like this so many times. your big hands all over me- fuck.” you whimper as his thumbs run over your hard nipples through the flimsy cups of your bra, making your back arch off the bed.

Joel’s mind nearly explodes as you tell him your dirty thoughts. All those hours of him holding back, trying to keep his mind from wandering, and you were doing the same? He almost smirks.

He takes advantage of the fact you're arched so beautifully for him and slips a hand under you, his fingers splayed across your lower back and the other reaching to unclasp your bra. He pulls it down your arms, dropping it onto the pile of other clothes.

He pushes himself up on one hand, the other reaching down between you, fumbling with his belt as he speaks, “That right, darlin'? I’ve tugged my cock countless times thinkin' about having you like this.”

"You've stroked your cock over me?" you ask, eyes on the hand unbuckling his belt.

He looks up at you, eyes almost completely consumed with lust, as he unzips his jeans and pulls them down his thighs a little, just enough for his cock to not feel like it's suffocating in his boxers.

“Mm. Spent so many nights imagining burying my cock inside you…” he continues, and grinds his clothed length against you, as if demonstrating before continuing.

“God, the way you look at me…” he groans. “the way you laugh at my shitty jokes, those little outfits you wear…” he says, hitching one of your legs around his waist and leaning down towards you, his eyes scanning your face.

“You remember when I had that barbecue last summer? you and Sarah danced…and every time you spun…that damn skirt would ride up.”

You remember that very well…after all, you wore it on purpose. You felt kind of guilty after that, kind of parading yourself around for your besties father (even though Sarah had no idea), but knowing now how it affected him, that's the last thing on your mind.

“Yeah, I remember." you reply, wrapping your other leg around his waist and pulling him towards you more, needing more friction.

He practically loses it as you grind against him, thinking about when he sat in his backyard, trying to ignore the way your little skirt bounced, or how he would see your perfect ass cheeks peeping out of the bottom of your shorts. He was about to go mad.

“oh, I know you did. bet you fucking knew I was sitting there, trying to act normal while I’m dyin’, watching your perfect ass appear and disappear under that skirt."

You whimper as he cups one of your bare breasts, the other hand trailing downwards. “Look at these.” Joel whispers as he leans forward and takes a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you thought about when you were dancin', what you wanted me to do’.” he murmurs between teasing licks, his other hand teasing you through the fabric of your now soaked panties.

You let out a desperate moan, your mind begging him to do something. “I wanted…I wanted you to grab me, make me dance on your cock instead.” you say, voice strained as you try to grind yourself against his fingers.

A breathy curse escapes him at your words. He had to hear you say it. He needed to know you were thinking the same dirty thoughts as him. “You got no idea...wanted to grab you, pull your skirt up and fuck you right there.”

The mental imagine his filthy words conjure up, and his fingers teasing your pussy through your panties have you letting out a desperate noise you don't even recognise. God the noises you made. He needed to hear more of them, so his fingers slip under the side your panties.

“Y'like hearing what I wanna do to ya, huh?” he rasps as his fingers slide through your folds. “Soaked just thinking about it.”

You curse when his fingers finally make contact with your bare pussy and moan out a pathetic "Yeah."

“Fuuck, that’s it baby. Make those pretty noises for me.” Joel groans, easily slipping two fingers in your sopping centre, making you blush at how desperate you are right now. He begins to pump them and at a toe curling rhythm, making you gasp and moan his name.

He shuffles down your body, and pulls your panties aside to get a better look.

"So pretty." he murmurs, practically salivating at the sight before him, continuing his ministrations. He moves even closer, his hot breath ghosting over you, making you exhale and bite your lip.

"Tha’s right, baby. show me how bad you want it.” he says, his thumb now circling your clit. His eyes flit between your perfect pussy that's drenching his fingers and your pretty face as it contorts in pleasure. You reach behind you, grasping the edge of the mattress to ground yourself.

"Gotta taste this pussy. Can I, baby? Will ya let me?" he mumbles against the inside of your thigh before his tongue flicks out to tease the skin. He withdraws his fingers, toying with the slick, running it up and down your slit.

"ohgod...please." you almost whine. His cock is throbbing and almost hurts with every sound you make. He can smell your sweet scent and it's driving him insane. The moment you agree, his face is directly in front of your cunt, inhaling deeply.

Without warning, he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, tongue flat. You sigh, almost in relief at the sensation. Fuck it felt so good. He lets out a low moan, as if he were a starved man having eating for the first time in days.

His tongue dances over your sensitive little bud, his mind reeling. He never thought it'd happen. Yet here you are, legs open in front of his face and he was basking in it.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, his lips latch onto your clit, sucking hard. You gasp and thread your fingers through his hair.

His hands trail over your thighs and then up to cup your tits, squeezing them gently. He alternates his tongues movements, licking and sucking, your moans and whimpers not helping the fact his cock feels slightly neglected now.

After a little more, he pulls away from your clit with a pop and looks up at you, his lips, chin and even the tip of his nose glistening with your juices. "She's a great kisser." he teases, wiping his face on his sleeve before slipping off the bed, rising to his feet and unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it aside. That line should've made you cringe and with anyone else it probably would've, but it didn't.

"Can I return the favour?" you ask as you prop yourself up on your elbows, wanting nothing more than to have his cock sliding down your throat.

"As good as that sounds darlin', my cocks achin' to get inside ya." he says, pulling his jeans and boxers down and kicking them aside. He gets back onto his bed, resting against the headboard. "c'mere." he beckons you over.

Your eyes trail down his body, shamelessly looking at his cock as you move towards him. He's bigger than you imagined, his balls big and heavy underneath. You don't have that much time to look as Joel pulls you over to him. "Havin' a good look there?" he teases, a smirk plastered on his face as you mount him.

"Well I mean, you just had your face between my legs, s'only fair I get a peek of what I'm about to sit on." you retort your hands on his shoulders as you hover above him, sitting up on your knees.

He lets out a low husky chuckle, the fact that you were comfortable enough to tease him back made his cock twitch and then a deep groan erupts from him as you run your pussy up and down the underside of his cock.

"You enjoy being a little tease, huh? like playi- fuck -playin' little games?" his voice is strained as you move a little further than intended, his cock nudging your entrance, making you both moan. He grips your hips, leaning back and his eyes zero in on where you're almost connected. "Again." he breathes. "fuck, do that again."

You happily comply, whimpering every time the head nudges your clit and moaning in sync with him as it prods your soaking wet hole. "Jesus-" he grunts, his head falling back. It feels so fucking good but it's taking everything in him not to drag you down onto his cock.

He can't take much more, and you're right there with him. Desperate to feel him properly. He wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you and grabs the base of his cock to line himself up. "you ready, baby?" he murmurs against the skin of your shoulder.

"mhm." you hum as his hands grip your hips. "but, slow...at first. been a while." you mumble, cheeks flushing.

His lust filled eyes soften for a moment at your confession. "you just take what you need, however you need to. we got all night, sweetheart."

Your heart flutters a little at that. This man just told you how much he's dreamed of fucking you, that he's been playing with his cock to the thought of you, yet being so understanding on top of that makes him even sexier.

You nod, before lowering yourself down on him. He closes his eyes, jaw ticking as he tries to stay still, the urge to buck up into your tight heat almost to much. "tha's it, baby...just like that."

You can't help the string of noises that escape your lips as you slowly sink onto him. When you reach the bottom, you rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he breathes out, one of his hands moving from your hip to trace his finger tips up your spine.

"m'fine. just needed a second." you say, fighting the embarrassment. It's not like you've never rode a dick, but it's just been while and jesus was this one bigger than the others. You suck it up and lift your head to meet his eyes, giving him a nod to let him know you're good to go. You slowly start to lift, with Joel guidance, before moving back down.

You moan together as you move, his eyes glued to your face. One hand still on your back and the other on your hip to keep you steady. "you feel so fuckin' good...don't stop. keep goin'..like that." His words only encourage you, your pace picking up as you ride him, the lewd sounds of your bodies coming together filling the air.

He starts to move his hips, matching your movements and hitting that spongey spot inside your cunt, making your eyes roll back. He takes advantage of that fact, watching your tits bounce in his face as he tries to catch a nipple with his tongue.

"Oh god...Joel..." you moan, leaning back and grasping his thighs behind you.

"Tha's right, beautiful. Fuck yourself on your friend's old mans cock." he says, watching your body move. His words are disgusting, they should turn you off, yet they make you tighten around him.

"Ah, you like that don't cha? Dirty fuckin' girl."

You nod, the embarrassment shooting straight down to your cunt. "Yeah?" he coos, pressing you, wanting to hear you say it.

"Mmyeah." you whimper pathetically as you continue moving up and down his thick cock.

"Look at me, baby girl. I wanna see that gorgeous face." He says in that deep, gravelly voice, his hand moving to your chin and tilting your head down to look at him. As soon as your eyes lock on his, the intensity makes you moan. "There she is..." he says, looking at how fucking wrecked you look. Pupils blown, cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled.

Your chest flutters and cheeks burn a little darker under his gaze. God, you always imagined you'd be more confident if you ever got to fuck him, thought you'd be calling the shots. But he's got you, and you're lost in it.

He starts to meet your movements, lifting his hips to bury himself to the hilt over and over. His hand moves from your chin to your neck, his fingers wrap around it. Your breath hitches and it makes he smirk again. "This what you want?" he murmurs, giving your throat a light squeeze.

"Mmmm, yes.." you mewl, barely able to talk. Your mind is swimming in lust and desire, our thoughts consumes by the man in front of you. He tightens his grip around your neck, his thumb pressing on your jaw to keep your gaze locked on him.

"What about last fourth July? remember that?" he asks with his signature gruff drawl.

You know exactly what he’s talking about and it makes you moan. "Mmh- yeah…" you manage. "I remember."

He gives a low, amused chuckle as he recalls the memory. "You in that lil’ blue bikini...walkin’ around my place, all tan and wet." Every other word he speaks is met with a harder thrust, making you whine.

Memories of that day flood your mind and heat pools in your belly. That was the first time you noticed Joel stare at you in a way that wasn't how your best friends dad should.

"Joel...I need- please I-" He takes the hint, shifting your position so you're now on your back on his bed, his cock still nestled deep inside you.

"I know, baby, I know." He purrs, his face going between your neck and collarbone, nipping and sucking all the sensitive skin he can get his mouth on. He lifts your left leg and drapes it over his hip, then he quickly buries himself in your tight heat again. "Fuuuck you're so tight.." he moans, head falling back.

His cock constantly hits the right spot over and over, you're sure your vision will go white any second. "So good...mmfuck, Joel..."

Your hands that look small in comparison to his, grasp his biceps and pull him down for a desperate, messy kiss. Joel's body covers yours, his muscular form surrounding you. He kisses you feverishly, every movement of his tongue and lips making that feeling in your gut coil tighter and tighter.

"Joel-” you gasp as the feeling in your stomach gets stronger. He can already feel how tight you're getting around him.

"Gonna come ain'tcha? C'mon baby, lemme feel you." his own breathing is ragged, he's not far behind you. He leans down, pressing kisses to the column of your throat as he fucks you faster.

You're unable to form a coherent sentence anymore, just needy sounds escaping you as he fucks you good, your walls tightening around him and making his hips stutter.

"There ya go...keep squeezin' me like that.." he encourages, hips moving impossibly faster.

"M'so close." you whimper, nails leaving little crescent indents in his back.

"Mmyeah, I know baby...can feel it. Gonna fill this lil' pussy up. That what you want? Wanna be full of me?" he grits, lifting his head up from your neck.

"Shit...yeah, I want it. Give it to me, please." you beg in your lust filled haze. You're right on the edge now, just needing a little something to help you over.

A gravelly moan rumbles in his chest at your words. "Look at you...wrecked and begging for my come." Those words have you clenching him again. He's so fucking close but wants to make sure you get there first.

You only whine in response, unable to come up with words as that tightness in your stomach gets so tight, you feel like you'll snap. It's like he's everywhere at once, the sensations are overwhelming and you can barely take it.

"I got ya, baby. C'mon now. Need t'see you fall apart on my cock." he murmurs.

That's it, that's all it takes. Your thighs are trembling, vision hazy, back arching, toes curling, all the orgasm cliches you'd never experienced with these frat boys who just want to get their dicks wet.

Joel watches you in awe. "Oh fuck...there we go, jus' like that." That was it for Joel too, watching you fall apart sends him over. His head drops down, hips stuttering as he rides through it with you, his movements slowing.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, sweat covers your bodies. Joel's still on top, supporting his weight with a hand on either side of your head. He lifts up slightly so he can look at you, a smirk plastered on his bearded face.

"Looking real happy with yourself there." you say, letting out a small breathy laugh.

He chuckles, the sound deep and satisfied. "Can ya blame me?" he murmurs, his head dipping down to press a kiss to your cheek, his beard scratching your skin.

But the sounds of the front door opening downstairs makes you both freeze and then Sarah's voice rings out, calling for you both. She'd have seen your car outside.

Fuck.

[hoshigray]

hello, lovely! is it okay to request a short fic wherein gojo’s pregnant wife (y/n) stole his kikufuku? thank u! (missing soft gojo hours 😭)

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg stoooop this is so cute and sweet, what!?

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x pregnant afab/fem! reader - tooth-rotting fluff - pet names (angel, baby, stars and moon, sweetheart) - Gojo being a big crybaby over sweets - so soft, i was smiling while writing, hehe~.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

THUD!

“…!” You jolt, immediately looking to the entrance of the living room to see your husband. “Gojo! You okay?”

The white-haired man stands still with a gawked expression, eyes covered by his black blindfold with his usual Jujutsu Tech attire, and you can assume the noise came from the souvenir bags he dropped to the floor.

“…Y/n, my angelic stars and moon,” he finally speaks after a few seconds of silence, and you can see his lips quiver with trembling hands. “Is…Is that my last kikufuku?” 

If there is one thing Gojo loved more than anything other than you, it would be his undying love for sweets! You could never find him without any at his disposal; he’d have a bunch of lollipops in his pockets, be licking popsicles or soft serves while monitoring his first years during their missions, or typically stop by a café and grab some crepes for dessert to take home and share with you. He’s known to have a childish heart, and sweets are his weakness!

His all-time favorite would be the mochi delicacy he often gets during his mission trips to Sendai, and he’s always sure to buy a whole box worth to make the long trip up North worth it. Kikufuku, the crushed edamame and cream-filled mochi, is Gojo’s favorite sweet to eat — you’re a witness to him happily stuffing his face with them lying on the couch after a hard day’s work. He’s the type to eat one every week until he can return to Sendai and get more. 

This week was the very last one he had saved, secured in the cold fridge for him to eat once he got home. And he wasn’t going to Sendai anytime soon, so he planned on treasuring and savoring it the moment he stepped inside and lay beside his pregnant partner to chill on this blissful spring evening.

He could never get over the sight of you whenever he came home. Gojo loved his partner so much that he swears he would burn the world if you commanded him to, which you knew is an exaggeration, but his love is true. The day he got on one knee and heard you say yes to his proposal was the happiest he’d ever been, sweeping you off your feet, putting you in your dream puffy white dress, and officially becoming the spouse of the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world! And now you were swole with his child!? Not even God could strike this man to calm him down of his glee.

You were sitting on the living room couch like you always did, waiting for your husband to return, wearing a black maternity one-piece that comfortably molded around your figure and a blue flannel shirt – his flannel – to keep you warm. Gojo came home with souvenirs to share and impress, a huge smile just from thinking about your reactions. 

However, the sight has him gasp dramatically loud and drop everything to the wooden floor, because he saw something in your hand, something that broke his heart noticing the green and white filling apparent from a bite on an undeniable white rice cake. 

You were eating the very last of his kikufuku…How could you!?

You blinked at him, then turned to the sweet in your hand, and the realization of what you were doing finally hit you. “Oh! I’m sorry, Satoru! I was feeling snacky.”

The tall man teeters to where you’re sitting, whining with every step. “So why didn’t you eat your snacks, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know?” You shrugged, licking bits of the edamame cream off your middle finger. “They didn’t seem like what I was craving for. I wanted something sweet, ya know? And I finished my ice cream two nights ago, so this was all I could find.”

“Yeah, but like,” you can tell his eyebrows were scrunched together even if the black material concealed his upper face. “That was my last one, baby! Plus, you could’ve texted me you’d eat it, or I could’ve stopped somewhere to grab you something sweet!”

“I know! But, you were very busy today; a big mission up in Kyoto and a meeting with Principal Yaga, sooo…” you squished the mochi gently, licking more of the filling coming out. “I didn’t wanna interrupt or bother you…”

“But stilllll~!”God, you were so cute when you cared for him, you almost made him forget the whole thing then and there. But you can’t hate the man for being a little upset, right? Gojo sighs and places his cheek on your belly. “Little booger, you hear what your momma is doing to me? So cruel~.”

You gasped. “Hey! Don’t say that to them!” Your free hand tries to yank him off your tummy by the hair, yet he doesn’t budge as he exclaims painfully. “What, are you saying the pregnant love of your life is some villain because they ate one of your sweets? As if I never caught you taking scoops of my favorite ice cream!? Have you no shame, Gojo Satoru!”

He swats your hand off his snowy hair, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Between you and Principal Yaga, there is a scarce few Gojo would allow to beat him up for his foolishness. He turns his head – still above the baby – to face you and releases a sigh. “I’m sorry, I was just really stoked I’d get to have that kikufuku; it’ll be a long while before I go get more…Ughhh.” Another sigh is exerted, and you can only shake your head with rolled eyes. He’s such a baby.

You bring his blindfold down to his chin to free the azure eyes he’s been hiding since this morning, and his hair falls from its spiky appearance. Then, you separate the mochi into two and push one to his lips, “You happy now?” You say with a grin. “I’m sorry, but I wanted to give these a try. Besides, we’ll have a little one to look after soon; wouldn’t it be nice for them to know what their father likes to snack on from time to time?”

Now, how in the world could Gojo still be upset with that logic? Being a father is a foreign concept he’s accepting with open arms, sharing the experience with the person he values and cherishes the most. To have a child with you is the highest honor of all for him. And imagining his small family happy and eating sweets together under his care makes his cheeks show a subtle shade of pink.

He smiles as he accepts the piece of the rice cake, chuckling when you flick his nose playfully. “You’re so sweet, angel.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[snail-day]

Picturing the JJK men as dads on the beach!

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

TW: Fluff, Established Relationships, It's silly if you think of Geto as a cult leader and you really don't know what he does for a living.

Gojo Satoru is definitely the playful type. Gently holds your toddler’s tiny little hand as they take their very first steps onto the beach. You, of course, are a few steps behind, recording the whole thing, his white hair blowing in the breeze, those bright blue eyes flickering back to you with the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

When your little boy finally reach the wet sand, the first chill of seawater brushes over his little toes as he squeals, cautious of the water. Satoru crouches slightly beside them, steady and so full of joy. You can hear his soft giggles and gentle reassurances, “I got you,” and “Don’t worry, daddy won’t let anything happen”, as he coaxes him forward, step by tiny step.

Each time the waves grow taller, he lets out a playful, “Wooo!” before shielding your little one with his long frame, bursting into laughter that makes your chest ache with love. “That was a big one, huh?” he grins, scooping the toddler closer. Checking them over as they spit out salt water. Helping him rub his little blue eyes that resemble his fathers. “My brave little man”

Eventually, you make your way over, camera tucked away, the salty breeze tangling in your hair. Satoru looks up the second he senses you near, and his grin only widens.

“There’s mama,” he coos, squeezing your toddler's small hand, pulling them close, before reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “C’mon, join us. The water’s not so scary.”

And just like that, the three of you stand at the edge of the sea, the water coming in cold burts, shells dazzling in the sand. When the next one crashes in, he pulls you both close, laughing loud and bright as cold water splashes up your legs.

“See?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your little one squeals with joy. Small little kicks in the water. “Told you I’ve got you.”

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

Now Geto Suguru, absolutely has a schedule in mind. A bit of time at the beach, a long scenic car ride timed perfectly for the twins to nap, then dinner at a place he made reservations for weeks in advance, with a menu that includes safe foods for the kids and views that he knows you will love.

You, of course, have no clue what the schedule is. You’re just following his lead, letting him steer the day. If he’s being a little overprotective? Well, he means well.

He kneels down to carefully lather sunscreen onto the twins' cheeks, smoothing it into their soft skin with those big gentle hands. Then he sprays down their arms and legs until their glistening (hey do you want two little ones complaining about sunburns? No? Thought so), before adjusting their sun hats and leading them down the sand toward the tide pools.

“The tide’s too rough for little girls,” he murmurs, glancing back at you with playful violet eyes as if daring you to challenge him. He’d said the same thing when school season came up, murmuring something about “not just yet” and “there’s still time.” You’re starting to realize he just doesn’t want them to grow up too fast.

Once you reach the tide pools, it’s like watching a nature documentary, narrated carefully with a smooth, honeyed voice. Suguru who crouches low, sleeves rolled up, pointing to colorful sea anemones and starfish nestled in rock crevices. The occasional hermit crabs scrambling about. He gently holds the girls back with one arm as he explains how we have to be careful, how these creatures are delicate, how we should never touch unless we’re invited. He asks them questions, listens closely to their little answers, and hums in thoughtful praise when they’re right.

You take pictures from behind for his little scrapbook - your husband hunched beside his daughters, the wind tousling his dark hair, a small smile on his face as they eagerly chatter about “funny sea goos” and “squishy blobs.”

Even when the four of you walk along the shore, he’s still tuned in. He picks up every seashell they hand him and slips them into his pockets, keeping each one safe. Talking to you that he will have them do a little craft, maybe decorate a frame for your next family photo. His other hand stays laced in yours, thumb brushing your knuckle like a quiet thank-you for being here, for trusting his rhythm.

And when the twins break into a run, he calls after them, not angry, just firm. Protective.

“Hey, stay where I can see you. Don’t go too far, yeah?”

You can't blame the man for being a little overprotective. He's just trying to protect the only family he has left in the world.

------

Nanami finally got his beach house.

It wasn’t something he ever really thought he’d have, not in the way people dream of it. Certainly not with a wife he adores more than life, and definitely not with a little girl who just turned one. Both surprises. Both blessings he never knew how much he needed until they arrived, warm, loud, full of life and love.

He lounges beneath a large umbrella, reclined in a low chair on the sand with your daughter curled up sound asleep on his chest. A small paperback rests in his hand, the other gently cradling her back as he reads aloud in a quiet, steady voice. Loud enough only for himself to hear. Enough for her to feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks. The soft rise and fall of her breathing tickles his cheek where her chubby face presses into him, her tiny hand curled in the fabric of his white linen shirt.

Every so often, he glances up from the page, eyes following you as you wander the shore barefoot, collecting small shells and smooth stones. Things for her little fingers to hold, to marvel at.

Sometimes, you join him again. Both of you kneeling in the sand with your babbling baby girl perched in your lap. You and Nanami take your time building crooked little castles, digging moats and shaping towers, only to watch her gleefully slam her tiny fists into them, squealing as the grains collapse under her touch. He chuckles each time, murmuring that it’s good for her sensory development, brushing sand from her face and little hairs before beginning again.

Every now and then, Nanami looks at you.

Just looks. Like the tide has swept something open in his chest and left it raw in the most beautiful way. Sometimes he’s still trying to understand how he got here, how he gets to have this. How he deserves to have this.

There’s a softness in his gaze that lingers longer than the shell rustling in the waves. A quiet, awestruck kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud, because it’s seen in every glance, every kiss to your lips, every shell gently placed in your daughter’s hand.

He never expected this life. But god, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: another kofi request. This time it’s an Anatolian guard dog smut fic! Enjoy ^^

You stood out in the snow, coffee in hand as you waited by the door of the hybrid work agency. It was nice that there was somewhere that specifically hired out hybrids who were in need of work, because it helped everyone.

Lately, your apartment building had been the victim of multiple robberies, and each time the person that got robbed was closer and closer to you. Last week, your neighbor just two doors down had their entire apartment emptied out, leaving only the old food in the fridge and some lint.

So safe to say you were afraid you were going to be next.

Several of your friends suggested getting a security system, but your neighbor had one and it did nothing. No, you needed to go another route.

“Are you (Name)?”

You jumped, neatly slipping on the slick, icy sidewalk when you heard a voice behind you. Before you could fall, a hand grabbed your arm and steadied you.

When you turned, you spotted a tall man, a pair of fluffy, black dog ears. He wore a dark suit, his gloved hand pulling back from your arm once you regained your balance.

“Y-yes, I am. And you are..?”

“The guard dog you hired, my name is Duke.”

That made sense, he even had a lanyard with his name and role on it. “Ah… okay. My apartment is nearby, I already have one of the rooms ready for you. I have a few errands I have to run first though.”

Duke nodded, staying by your side as you walked. “I will accompany you.”

For the next few weeks, you had never felt safer in your life. Everywhere you went, Duke was always nearby, inspecting the area and making sure no one even thought of interrupting your peace.

Just a few days ago you were approached by a handsome looking man who claimed to have picked up something you dropped, but Duke was quick to step in front of you and twist the guy’s arm back.

“He’s got bad intentions, I can just sense it.”

For a moment you were in shock. Of course you knew Duke was big and strong, but the entire time he’d been guarding you he hadn’t shown his true strength. All he had to do was stand around you looking intimidating.

“D-Duke, he’s not-“

A handkerchief fell from the man’s pocket, and before you could pick it up Duke growled. “Don’t touch it!”

You pulled back your hand as if it had been burned, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment and a bit of… arousal.

“It’s laced. The second you touch it you’ll start feeling dizzy. This guy has probably hurt a ton of girls using this method.”

You sat in Duke’s car as he handed the guy into the police station, still feeling a bit hot and bothered. Honestly, you were super grateful for and… a bit flustered by his protective nature.

From Duke’s pov, he had plans for you the moment h you met him. From your soft figure to your need for a protector, you were perfect.

Duke wanted a mate, and he bonded with you almost instantly. Getting to stand by and keep you safe all day aroused him to no end, and between shifts he spent most of his time fucking his hand, wanting more than anything to be thrusting into you instead.

That’s why when he smelled your arousal upon entering his car, Duke was quick to get you back to your apartment.

A part of him knew that it was unprofessional to be pushing you up against a wall and sniffing at you like a beast before covering your neck in hickeys, but he couldn’t care less.

You smelled too damn good, and he was sick and tired of everyone else looking at you like you didn’t belong to him already. “My little mate… getting all worked up, need to let off some steam, hmm?”

He set you on the bed before pushing you onto your belly, lifting your hips before lightly spanking your cunt. “Naughty thing. I’ve got to keep you safe, can’t have you all wet out there when every hybrid can smell your arousal from ten miles away.”

Duke was nearly twice your size, looming over you as his cock pressed against your tight hole. He did his best to prep you, pumping two fingers, then three in and out of your sopping wet cunt before he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pushed into you, letting out a growl when you whimpered and squirmed. “Easy, you can take it… be a good girl for me, okay? My sweet girl…”

Taking him wasn’t easy at all, in fact it took a minute for you to relax enough for Duke to even move, but once you eased up he began thrusting into you like a wild animal.

It made you see stars, the way he was fucking you stipid. You felt like you were losing yourself in each thrust, your hips moving desperately to meet his.

“G-gonna cum!”

When he knotted you after your fat cunt clenched around him, you truly understood what love was. While he stuffed you full, he caged your body under his, as if trying to shield you from the cruel and nasty world. You were just a sweet thing and he couldn’t stand the thought of anything taking you away from him.

He was so gentle, like a dog tending to the sheep he guarded. Duke groomed you and stayed inside of you for a long time, his curled tail wagging lazily.

“I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Don’t even have to pay me. You’re my mate now, got it?”

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[everythingne]

little miss wingwoman (3) - ln4

You meet the Norris family, Penelope drops by for a surprise visit, and luckily Christmas Eve goes off without a hitch. Thanks to your amazing skills in everything that comes with being a nanny.

warnings/notes: I, once again, am posting christmas after christmas and i don't care <3 happy hanukkah by the way!! also shout out to my brother who inspired the whole 'athena falling asleep' bit here bc he did this w my baby cousin on christmas eve

(prev | next)

Lando is welcoming in his siblings while you're in the process of finishing up a quick little Christmas Eve dinner. They'd requested nothing crazy, so you'd scoured the internet to find a simple chicken dish, and had Lando go out to buy some games to play with the family. His siblings had all been on the same flight, but with a little rain systems coming through Monaco, his parents flight had been delayed a few hours.

Meaning, you got to be eased into meeting your roommate of barely a weeks family, and spending the holidays with them.

As you finally set down some tin foil over the last few sides, sliding them in the oven on a preheat setting to keep everything warm until Lando's parents arrived, Oliver and Flo poke around the corner to look at you.

You don't notice them studying the way you flow through Lando's kitchen, you're too busy counting over the names Lando had told you--Oliver, Flo, and Cisca, his siblings, you think in that order with Lando ahead of Flo. Then, Savannah, Lando's sister-in-law, and his two nieces Mila and Athena. His parents, Cisca and Adam, though you can't imagine calling them anything other than Mr and Mrs. Norris.

"Oh, guys," Lando's tone is full of smiles, proudly waving an arm to you as you turn around and discard your oven mitts onto the counter, "This is my roommate, Yn."

"Ah!" Oliver smiles, Athena in his hands sraring up at you with wonder in her eyes, "This is the roommate I've heard so much about."

"Oh, god, I hope all good things?" You step around Lando to properly greet each sibling, Savannah, and the girls.

"Lando talks about you a lot." Cisca teases softly, looking over at her brother, who flushed and quickly asked what everyone wanted to drink--safely deterring the conversation. Above everyones scurrying heads into the kitchen, you meet Lando's eyes, and find you can't look away as he crinkles up in a smile before turning to find cups for everyone.

A bit later, Lando runs out to go collect his parents from Nice's airport, leaving you with the siblings. Mila and Athena have taken to exploring the living room under their parents watchful eye as you scour for a good Christmas movie for them--settling on the Grinch after a while, just to have it on in the background. You can tell Athena's getting ready for a nap, but with so much excitement and noise, she seems to be struggling to settle down. Savannah seems a bit flustered, so you take a seat with her on the couch while Flo and Cisca sneak some cookies in the kitchen and gossip.

"So," Oliver starts, "We spent so long catching up with Lando, I never had a chance to ask anything about you."

"Oh, Sorry!" Savannah calls, turning to place a hand on your knee, "Don't want you to feel left out!"

"Don't apologize, it's alright! He's your brother and you said, Savannah, the last time you saw him was Goodwood, which was--what, July?" You say, watching as Cisca and Flo come to the living room, sitting down with their nieces and their toys by the big windows. Savannah offering the girls a thankful smile for taking them off her hands for the time being.

"Yeah, it's been a while." Flo hums, "And Cis and I didn't even see him at Goodwood, we saw him at Silverstone."

"He's so busy with racing, I see why but I still worry for him. He's still just the boy he was when we were young and running amuck through the woods in the middle of nowhere. He had no friends back then, and I worry he isolates himself here too, just blames it on being busy." Oliver leans back, running a hand across his head. You can see the worry for a baby brother he's watched grow clear in his eyes, and Savannah soothes a hand across his shoulders in comfort.

You hum softly, "He's got Max. And Oscar, Charles... Carlos, Alex and George, though I guess George is in London now... a lot of the drivers live close--we actually bought them presents for Christmas. He's got all of Quadrant too."

"And you," Flo prompts, looking up from where Athena tries to grab onto her hair.

"Yeah," you breathe out, turning to Oliver, "And me."

"How'd you meet?" Savannah asks and you smile.

"Max Verstappen, his 'bonus daughter' Penelope is the girl I nanny. I've worked for Kelly since Penelope was maybe three or four months, actually. Just an extra set of hands for her, but now I'm sort of like a housekeep? I watch the apartment when they're gone, cook, clean, help them keep track of everything--the two of them are also so busy." You laugh softly, watching as Athena uses the table to toddle her way over to her parents, Savannah picking up the sleepy toddler and laying her on her chest.

"But, with their baby on the way, the room I was living in is turning into a nursery. They didn't want to move, especially with a whole baby coming, so they helped me find a new place to live. Luckily, I knew Lando... kinda... we never really spoke much before but Penelope adores him so I've been out with Penelope at races or even in Monaco, and run into him."

Savannah watches as Athena scoots out of her hold and climbs across the couch, the curious toddler now taking up space in your lap as you wrap up your explanation, and a place a hand on her back, "So, Lando let me move in. I've pretty much transformed his entire apartment in exchange for the rent he's covering for me."

"I was going to say, it looks a lot better than the last time I was here." Oliver chuckles, Savannah countering with, "Yes, it does. A woman's touch was needed for sure."

"Lando kept asking us all about how to live with a girl," Cisca looks over her shoulder, watching as Flo and Mila move to join you on the couch. Little Athena snuggling into the warm of your hold as you move back.

"I told him it was just like living with sisters," Oliver rolls his eyes, "but he was insistent there was a way to do it wrong."

You laugh softly, imaging the way that he had probably begged for some sort of advice over the phone with his siblings, gently rocking a fussy Athena--who has been refusing her nap since she'd gotten into the apartment almost two hours ago now.

You speak softly, to keep the girl from waking up as she nearly is sleeping, "There really isn't, and I've been moving around so much my whole life I don't really have a set way to live. I kinda just adapt."

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens, and Lando announces he's back. Savannah lifts Athena, who whines, clinging to your shirt, and you shake her off, "I can take her, if it's okay."

"Sure, if it's fine. I wouldn't wanna wake her so close to her falling asleep. Athena loves to cuddle, she's a clinger," Savannah laughs softly, brushing her daughters wild curly hair back. You nod, holding her the way Savannah instructs--missing when Penelope used to be this tiny in your arms.

Lando's parents--Adam and Cisca, are happily talking with their children when you round the corner into the kitchen. Everyone turns with your presence, smiling at the sight of Athena curled in your arms, Mrs. Norris audibly aweing at the scene as you smile.

"Hi, it's really lovely to meet you both," You say softly, stepping over so they can give you hugs and greet their granddaughter who refuses to come out of the comfort she'd found nestled in your chest.

"I'll get the food out," Lando says, "I imagine you're all starving,"

"God, please." Flo whines, Oliver going to help his brother. You linger with the Norris parents in the hall, smiling softly as Athena lets out little snores against the warm fabric of your sweater. Savannah long gone after being dragged off by Mila.

Mrs. Norris moves into the kitchen, laughing as she scolds her sons for stealing bits of food while they bring everything out. The stack of bags and gifts flow down the hall now, the jackets and shoes overflowing the racks, and you can't help but smile at the liveliness of the once empty apartment.

"You're a real charmer," Adam says after a second and your attention is drawn to Mr. Norris. He grins, "Haven't seen Lando this organized in years."

You laugh softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Athena's back, "It's the least I could do for him, considering he won't let me pay rent. He's been really kind to let me live here."

"That's Lando for ya," Adam looks at his son in the kitchen, helping Mila get seated at the table, "He'd give you the skin off his back if he could."

As if sensing you both looking at him, Lando's head perks up, scowling as he comes over. He takes his father's jacket out of his hands and urges him to go get a plate of the food you'd 'slaved over' making all day in the kitchen. You can't help but giggle as he shoos away his father's knowing smile and wave as he goes to join his wife and kids.

"Thanks for saving this whole holiday," Lando looks over at you, catching the way you're already looking at him. A soft smile gracing your lips as you sway the toddler in your arms.

"Your family is lovely," you reply softly, "I'm glad I could do something for them."

Lando's quiet for a moment, the both of you just watching eachother. Turning back when Flo and Cisca start cracking up over some teasing thing Mrs. Norris is saying as Oliver scowls and rebukes whatever she's saying.

"Do you want a plate?" Lando says, "I can get mine last."

"No no, wouldn't want to wake Athena. I can always heat it up after she wakes." You wave a hand, and Lando nods, stepping closer to wipe a crumb off your cheek and brush a piece of hair back into place before Flo calls him over. You wave him on and he goes, making a spectacle about making his way back to the group.

Slowly, you make your way back into the living room, slowly sinking down on the couch and getting comfortable with Athena still snoring in your arms. And as the Norris' carry on in the kitchen, you can help but lay your head back on the cushions, cuddling in to the comfiest position you can find.

You fall asleep around the point Martha May announces her love for the Grinch, and right before Flo brings out Uno for the group at the table to play.

Lando comes over about twenty minutes later, pausing when he sees you knocked out. The rest of the family peeking around the corner as Lando grabs a blanket from the chair in the corner and walks over to where you are--Athena still snuggling into your hold. He gently drapes the blanket over the two of you, grabbing a pillow to lay under your head so your neck isn't killing you in the morning, and just takes a pause to sit next to you.

His eyes travel down your hair, to your closed eyes, parted lips, the soft breaths that leave you. The way Athena has tucked herself against your chest like she just knows you're safety, that you know how to take care of her. He lifts the blanket a little higher, resists the urge to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, and stands.

No one moves fast enough for him to not catch them staring.

"Looked like you were gonna kiss her for a second," His father chimes. Lando feels heat rise to his cheeks as his siblings laugh and he just waves away their comments as he comes back to play the game with them.

When Athena stumbles in to cuddle her mom about thirty minutes later, he peeks out to see you still asleep on the couch and tilts his head. Oliver leaning on the wall leaning into the living room as Lando steps forward, tucks his arms underneath you and carefully lifts you. It's not graceful by any means, but when your eyes flutter and you settle in as he holds his breath, Oliver bites his lip to keep himself from laughing at Lando.

"I'll get the door." Oliver says, nodding his head to where the spare bedroom is. His whole family pretends not to see him nearly whack your head into the wall when he brings you into your room and lays you on the bed. Mrs. Norris does come to ensure her son has you tucked in properly, with the blinds lowered to block out the setting sun as you curl up in your bed.

"Poor thing, she's absolutely knackered." She hums, waving Oliver out of the room as Lando sheepishly rubs his neck, walking over to her.

"She cooked all day, and we've spent the week decorating everything," his voice is soft as he looks over at your sleeping form in the bed, before his mother pulls him out of the room to shut the door.

"Well, she did a wonderful job." She winks knowingly at him, earning a shy laugh from Lando as she brings him back over to the table to keep playing games.

You do manage to get up and freshen up around nine, after his family has left to sleep off their jetlag. Lando's sitting on the couch with--surprisingly to you, Penelope.

"Max dropped her off, he and Kelly have dinner with their parents and P was supposedly exhausted." Lando pokes the girls cheek, but you can see she's clearly wide awake, sheepishly smiling up at you as you chuckle to yourself.

"I'm sure she was," You chime, sitting down at the counter as Penelope climbs up to sit next to you, leaning on you and looking up at you through her long lashes.

"I just didn't wanna go." Penelope admits softly, "All everyone's been talking about is the baby. I don't care about the stupid baby, I wish it was just me again, and I didn't have to fight this little thing in my Mommy's belly for some attention."

You hum, rubbing a hand up and down Penelope's back. She'd been complaining to you about the baby since you'd gotten back to Monaco, and you'd brought it up to Max and Kelly already. From the time spent in their apartment with them, you knew it wasn't their fault Penelope was feeling this way--after her first complaint. They'd both apologized to her, and explained it to her, and after that Penelope had been fine for a while.

But having every single person in your extended family fawning over the unborn baby in your mothers stomach--buying him tons of gifts and clothes, things Penelope was used to be doted onto her, the shift had to feel weird.

"Max and Kelly still love you," it's Lando who chimes from the couch, groaning as he stands up and stretched out his shoulders, "It's been hard for them with the baby coming, and you know how much the baby needs."

Penelope nods and you pout. Usually, Christmas Eve was reserved for the Verstappen-Piquets to spend the entire night together. But it seemed every one of their traditions had been tossed aside.

"How about this," you say softly, "I have some stuff left over to bake. Why don't you, Lando, and I make some cookies for Santa, hm? We can leave them out at your apartment when I drop you off."

Penelope does light up at that and agrees, so as Lando helps her get supplies, you finish shoveling your dinner into your mouth before standing to help them with baking.

By the end of it, after Penelope's roped you and Lando into a flour fight you know is going to be a disaster to clean up, you and Lando end up carrying up a sleeping Penelope and a plate of cookies. Max laughs softly at the sight of the three of you covered in flour, and Kelly thanks you both for staying up later to watch her.

When you return to Lando's apartment, the two of you elect to finish watching whatever movie is playing on the tv. And the quiet moment, broken by occasionally showing each other something on your phones or asking questions about this absolutely absurd 80s christmas movie, just fills the home with a sense of warmth you aren't expecting to feel.

It almost makes you not want to go to bed, but alas, the Norris' are coming back over in the morning, so you two duck off to bed eventually--hesitating to part due to the invisible magnet that holds you close.

SEE NOTES ABOUT TAG LISTS BELOW:

general tag list (open, tagged in all my fics, will not update for this series. If you'd like to be added to my general list FOR this series, let me know and I'll tag you in the comments!

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins

series specific tag (closed BUT SEE BELOW!!)

@nikfigueiredo @ilovechickenwings @supertrashbread @sltwins @mwuaferrari @si1ver06 @linnygirl09 @kikiki81 @kittylolly4 @lazybot @tylerstacobell @formula1fordisaster @sheblogs @suns3treading @kqliie @jxnellat @anxiousbananna @hard4ndsoft @majasophieanna @diorbrxtz @freyathehuntress @obxstiles @cstads-blog @wierdflowerpower @delululeclerc @honethatty12 @henna006 @chlmtfilms @littlegrapejuice @piastrams @ravisinghs-wife @sturmatt @sagestack @bravo-delta-eccho @eiffel-hood @widow-cevans @ash88-yep @emryb @changetyre @raynetargaryan2 @callsignsiren @mayusaatma @sid-is-gr8  @awritingtree @urstepdaughter @4-ln4

TO BE TAGGED IN COMMENTS OF EACH NEW CHAPTER:

@celestrablack @hadids-world @keij0h @annimausi

(thank you to all the new people (and my return readers ofc), and everyone who has left such kind words!! happy holidays to you all <3)

[sugarplumfairy777]

𓂃⋆.˚ ۫ ꣑ৎ a short n’ sweet guide on how to induce the void state ft. hachi

—————————————————————————

meet hachi a young girl who one day stumbles on how to induce pure consciousness. this is her journey:

day 1:

hachi spends her first day scrolling through some of her favorite bloggers posts; a little bit after she scrolls through “#void state” and “#pure consciousness” after a few minutes she comes across a post that reminds her of her power and how she can induce the void state like literally R I G H T N O W now hachi is ready and excited to induce pure consciousness, so she lays down and goes through a flow of instructions and BOOM she is now and her most natural and pure form, which some know as pure consciousness, the void state, I am state, or whatever you wanna call it. now if you thought the following while reading hachi’s journey, you do not understand what it means to be god.

-if you thought that hachi’s journey sounds too fake or too unrealistic because she induced her purest form on the first day of finding out about it, you do not understand.

- if you feel bad now that your journey is longer than hachi’s you do not understand, it doesn’t matter if it’s been two weeks since you’ve been on your journey or if it’s been 4+ years it does not matter at all.

-if you thought of ANY limitations or had any doubt or thoughts of how you can still fail or even uttered “b-b-but that doesn’t make sense, that’s not pos—” yeah, uhm I’ll stop you there before you accidentally make a fool of yourself.

what are you talking about, “impossible” “unrealistic” “too hard” nothing is any of those words for you; a god. like seriously stop making my point fly across your head, YOU ARE GOD. period.

now for the curious people who are wondering, “what did hachi do to induce the void state so fast????”:

step 1: recognize your truth

𓂃⋆ the first step is realizing the most important truth: you are god. you are not a body, not a mind, not tied to any rules or limits. you are pure consciousness—infinite, powerful, limitless. there is no separation between you and the universe because you are the universe. everything flows from you. the void state isn’t something outside of you—it’s within you, always has been.

step 2: it’s already yours

𓂃⋆ the void isn’t something you need to “enter.” there’s no effort, no struggle. it’s instant. you are already there because you are it. time doesn’t exist in the void; it dissolves the moment you recognize your infinite nature. don’t overthink it. you don’t have to do anything special. the void is your natural state—limitless potential, pure being. just by knowing this, you’re already connected to it.

step 3: let go of limitations

𓂃⋆ close your eyes if you want, but know it’s not even necessary. all limits, all beliefs, all stories are illusions. they don’t define you. in this moment, drop everything that tells you who you are “supposed to be.” you are beyond all of that. realize the simplicity of it: there’s no need to fight or overcome anything. just let it go. you’re already infinite.

step 4: feel the stillness

𓂃⋆ once you let go of everything, there’s only stillness. this stillness is you. it’s not the absence of movement—it’s the presence of infinite potential. in this space, there’s no need to question, doubt, or analyze. you don’t need to “try” to reach the void, because you’re already embodying it. the moment you stop chasing it, you realize you were already there.

step 5: exist as pure consciousness

𓂃⋆ in the void, you are pure consciousness, untouched by the world, unshaped by time or space. you are everything and nothing at once. feel this—you are the creator of all, and yet, you are perfectly still. this state is simple, yet profound. you don’t have to do anything to maintain it. just be aware of your own infinite nature.

that’s it. the void state is effortless because you are it. there’s no process, no waiting, only instant realization that you are god, and everything is within your power. hachi did nothing but know her powerful and boom— she manifested her dream closet, her dream body, her dream boyfriend and her dream life in general. if she & so many others can—then so can you 🩷 it’s nothing that deep :p

note: the steps are not required duh anything and everything you do whilst holding the intention of inducing the void state is correct and guaranteed you are god so stop doubting. https://www.tumblr.com/sugarplumfairy777/772229618617991168/failure-doubt-limitations

[butterflytint]

in your web of lies - s. gojo

summary: as a devoted student of science, you put all your time just to that. Misfortune falls upon you when you are faced with being in the same class as satoru gojo, your longtime academic rival and essentially the bane of your existence. It goes one step further when his strange behavior seems to get even stranger as the web slinging hero of New York suddenly swings into your life. . . not that there's any correlation.

pairing: spiderman!gojo x fem!reader

warnings: college au, excessive banter, guns, violence, death/bloodshed mentioned, sexual content, smut, porn with plot, mentions of SA, p in v, oral sex, missionary, doggy style, riding, little sprinkle of dirty talk

a/n: this is based off the spiderman gojo art by @ aliyartss on instagram!

First weeks of any semester are always brutal.

The sound of traffic clogging and polluting the streets, brutal. The beginning of ringing headaches from the lack of sleep, brutal. The start of all-nighters to complete homework and study, brutal.

That’s just a small piece of the brutality that follows college students.

At least that’s what most students can relate to.

You glance over at Shoko, next to you as you settle into class. Being miles ahead of schedule was always way better than being even a second behind. So walking into the small lecture room ten minutes before class plays in your favor even if it was Professor Yaga’s class, the same professor you’ve had for two past semesters already.

“You look a little annoyed,” Shoko comments while flipping through her notebook.

“Sorry—I had a bit of a fight last night with my Dad,” you sigh out, shaking your head. Your finger slides along the edge of your own notes. “And I guess I’m just a little stressed about everything. The JJ Tech guys are having me spend extra hours and I can hardly get an hour to myself in the day.”

“Well chin up, we’ve got a long lab ahead of us today,” Shoko tapped playfully against your chin, her eyes down on her papers.

“Hm, right,” you mumble, eyes drooping at the chalkboard. “Wonder how you’re getting through this lab by yourself.”

“Hey, Satoru is my lab partner. You shouldn’t worry too much about that,” she chides. Shoko has a habit of not looking at you when she’s in the middle of doing something while conversating. “You seem like you have something else on your mind. You wanna talk about your dad?”

You eyeball the warmup problem he has on the board, jotting it down in your notebook. Your mind races with that conversation you had with your father just last night. How he wanted to have an assigned detail with you on campus, safely getting you to and from class. You have enough to worry about with finally shifting to yours and Utahime’s new apartment in a few short weeks without having to think about your dad.

Your impending argument was scheduled to continue once you saw him again since you didn’t even have a fighting chance when he got a call about a high-profile criminal striking again. You wonder just what could have transpired last night, apparently there were witnesses that sighted him.

“Not really.”

His fingers trail down the side of his torso, eyes screwing shut when he grazes that sensitive expanse of skin. Throbbing mercilessly, he hisses through clenched teeth, opening his eyes and glancing at the banged-up mirror on his wall.

That skintight suit was still clinging to his body like glue. He tears his mask off his head, tousling his white locks in the process. His head tips back when his gloved fingers brush over that tender place on his side.

A series of slow, deliberate breaths travel past his lips. Mindlessly, he reaches for a vial of painkillers. He doesn’t even count how many he tips into his waiting palm before popping them into his mouth and chasing them down bitterly with a bottle of water.

The boy grunts out as he falls back onto his bed, hoping he could sleep the soreness off before class tomorrow.

RING! RING!

Those eyes of his that had just shut after eons of forcing himself to stay alert and prepared for any attack were cruelly wrenched open once more.

RING! RING!

Another blasted alarm sounded from across his room, an alarm clock he simply can’t punch to snooze as he’d already bought a new one after abusing his previous two.

Satoru sat up, wincing at the sting on his side.

He groaned, gruffly peeling that suit off his body. Thoughts of the day ahead warped his mind. He had spent all night traipsing rooftops, swinging through the streets in pursuit of a gang of sloppy bank robbers.

He usually had fun trailing and taking down thuggish rogues, picking them off and bringing them to justice ever so casually. He got to feel the rush of the midnight air as he swung from building to building, between the streets. Arms and legs easily stretching and freely moving without a care in the world.

He loves it.

Last night, he had run that stolen van off the road without much effort. Everything went swimmingly until he had foolishly been launched into a brick wall mid-chase.

That had caused him to lose a bit of coordination during the fight that ensued shortly after. After stringing them up with his webs, he had swung back home only to stop yet another mugger on the way.

Once he had finally returned the woman’s stolen purse and made sure she got home safely, he gave himself the same protocol.

He tries to rush out of the apartment as soon as possible. He had enough on his plate to worry about with school, he could hardly keep up with his nighttime activities.

No, not that. His work as a vigilante made it difficult to have even a moment to himself. Let alone the fact his internship at JJ Technologies started earlier this month as well. So yes, he has enough on his plate with no room to spare for the breakfast his conscience had suggested.

“Yo! Suguru!” Satoru calls. He is jolted out of his thoughts when he approaches his best friend right by the theology building.

“Oh, what’s up?” Suguru turned around. “You watch the game last night?”

“Wha—no,” Satoru shakes his head, pushing his glasses up. He sheepishly sighs, “You know I’ve been busy with the internship and with homework.”

“Oh right,” Suguru mumbles teasingly. “The internship? Speaking of, did you see the news? They’re saying the man who banged those guys up pretty good last night was the mysterious Spiderman.”

“Will you shut up?” Satoru gasps, almost slapping him.

Of course, Suguru knew. He found out in a freak accident only a week after Satoru had been bitten. The freak accident being Satoru forgot to lock his bedroom door while changing out of his costume and his best friend walking in.

“Relax. No one knows,” Suguru reassures, he takes a sip of his coffee. “Only a small population of the public are still choosing to be delusional.”

“Yeah, delusional enough to believe Spiderman doesn’t exist,” Satoru scoffs.

“No, delusional enough to believe he does,” Suguru corrects harshly. “If I didn’t walk in on you half naked with that suit on and saw how you shot out a web before you realized I was in the room, I would never have believed those photos I saw in the news either.”

“Spiderman is a household name now whether you like it or not,” Satoru self-righteously points at himself with his thumb. “You wouldn’t believe how big of a fan the ladies are.”

Suguru shakes his head as he eyes his student portal on his phone. “Fuck, I have a history quiz today.”

“Shit, me too,” Satoru grunts, shaking his head as he walks past yet another sorority bake sale on his way down the main streets of campus. “Wait—we’re in the same class.”

“Oh—yeah,” Suguru fumbles with his phone as he points at Satoru. “I think I might ask Nanami to let me cheat off him—Haiba won’t mind but let’s face it, he’s not the brightest—Wait, you never mentioned what exactly happened last night.”

“Toji Fushiguro’s on the run. There was a sighting of him last night and I went to track him down but no luck. Then there was a bank heist on West 7th, I wish I got to fucking sleep after. Being flung against a brick wall is not as fun as it sounds. Fuck—wait I have class!” Satoru interjects, darting off in the middle of the conversation, leaving Suguru with a look of disappointment on his face.

“I have the same class,” Suguru frowns.

Yaga has always been quite the authoritarian, he knows what to expect from one of his star pupils as he strolls into class with a lazy smile on his face, ten minutes late.

“How nice of you to join us, Satoru,” Yaga’s tone isn’t as sweet as his words. “I should count myself lucky you showed up at all today, no less right before we worked on our lab assignment.”

That hand you have your cheek resting on slides up to palm at your forehead, hoping to soothe the forthcoming headache once that boy settles into his seat.

“We’re switching lab partners today,” Yaga declares, pen in hand as he scribbles and crosses out names on his seating chart. “I know you must’ve been comfortable with your partners from last semester, but I’d like you to find your name on the board and sit accordingly. This partner is who you’ll be working with for the final project.”

Satoru was perfectly fine working with Shoko. Their scientific caliber was on par with one another and despite the fact they butted heads quite often, they somehow managed to do quite well on their labs.

His mind traps him in praying he doesn’t end up with Yuki that he almost doesn’t realize the fact you were his new partner. He whips his head to the right, seeing your brows raise as you glance back at him.

Seriously? Him?   

No one can relate to how brutal it is having Satoru Gojo of all people as your classmate in your organic chemistry class.

Yeah sure, give you an assignment of reporting the development and properties of organic photovoltaic cells for renewable energy applications or even deciphering the molar mass of your father’s whiskey collection, you could make sense of it.

You could never make sense of this kid, however.

Satoru Gojo.

The irritating kid you’ve been battling to beat out for the highest exam score since middle school. The kid that ran into class late and hardly seemed all that present but still landed a score almost as high as yours every time. The kid that sat at the back of class, dozing off during lab. The kid that spent a decent chunk of senior year playing Digimon on his phone and still antagonized you before every science test you had.

That kid you thought you wouldn’t have to worry about after high school but were proved severely wrong when you saw him on your campus your first semester. That kid you hoped you wouldn’t have to run into anywhere else but still did somehow where you had been interning.

If there was a chemical formula to understand why you couldn’t stand him, your list of grievances would have to be simplified to fit on one page.

You’re seriously contemplating on marching up to Yaga and demanding a switch in partners. Someone else. Anyone else.

Trying to change Yaga’s mind on anything though, was a feat greater than what any scientist could accomplish.

Heaving a sigh, you plop your books down on the table. There was this severity in your movements that wove seamlessly into propriety. He peeks over at your color-coordinated notes all lined out in neat handwriting.

Yeah, he’s been competing with you in school for years. It’s not like he meant to, he was just great at just about everything he did. It’s not his fault!

He knew you couldn’t stand him, and he enjoyed that for some reason. Getting under your skin with quick quips were designed to be much more fun because of that. Since he is on the clock every hour of the day, he needs to let out his stress somehow. Punching bad guys is not enough anymore.

“Look at your notes,” Satoru cheeses, flipping through your book. “All shiny and pretty. You know, if you put more effort in, you could look the same.”

You shove his arm, snatching your book back from him, “Shut up. Don’t make me mad. Words can’t explain how pissed I am already.”

“Aw, you know I’m kidding,” he grins mischievously. “You’re not that bad to look at.”

You press your lips together as you inhale heavily. Your eyes raise to look dead straight at the front of the class before you turn your head to face him.

He catches that fire in your gaze that he’s not even seen in the most vicious of criminals and mutants he’s gone up against.  

“I don’t get why Yaga didn’t call Suguru out for being late either,” Satoru frowns, facing forward.

“Because Suguru isn’t late every day,” you point. “You are. And half the time, you leave early. It baffles me how you still pass all your classes.”

“Is someone jealous?” Satoru smiles.

As you shake your head, you look down at your notes. You’ve known Satoru for many years, but he was always just a classmate. He was also always the classmate you would barely beat out to get the highest marks in science or any other class. The classmate that would get under your skin way too often.

There was something about him that made you pay close attention to him.

“Oh shit!” one of the students in class shouts out, eyes glued to his phone. Needless to say, he’s garnered the attention of the entire class. “There’s a robbery going on right now at the bank downtown! Six-gun men have all the customers and staff held hostage!”

This earns a series of nervous gasps and prayers from the students. The hair on the back of Satoru’s neck stands up and he’s still in his seat as his peers flock toward the lab table of the student watching the news live stream.

“Wonder when Spiderman’s going to show up,” one of his classmates ponder aloud.

“Nah, he can’t do shit. You think a clown in tights is going to take down a fucking group of men with guns?” another kid snarks, causing Satoru to all but roll his eyes as he stands up.

Ah, the everlasting and everchanging debate as to whether the wall crawling vigilante was a menace or a savior of society.

If he wasted his time worrying so much about what people thought about him, he’d never get a single thing done. He drowns out their discussion as he strides to the door with his mission clear in his mind: Save those hostages.

“Alright boys! Glad we wrapped this up!” Satoru, or should one say, Spiderman dusts off his hands ever so casually.

He crouches down, leveling with the leader of the gang who happened to be tied up thanks to Satoru’s expertise webbing. He breathes freely with the knowledge that the hostages have rushed out of the bank, straight into the arms of their worried loved ones outside and the police.

When a vial of green in the pocket of one of the tattooed thug’s glints in the light, Satoru reaches to pull it out. He squints through his mask at the bottle of green, “What do we have here?”

As expected, the thug spits out, “None of your fucking business, you bug.”

“Quiet, will you?” Satoru harshly smacks the man’s forehead.

“Robbing a bank on a busy day like this for me?” Satoru tuts, a menacing lilt in his joke. “You should feel lucky I haven’t strung you upside down in your underwear out on the street lamps. But I’ve got somewhere to be unfortunately, so have fun in jail!”

With that, Satoru extends his arms out and a thick web sprouts out in the direction of the tall buildings lining the streets. If it was any other day, any other time of day, he would’ve stuck around. Spewed out some more quippy remarks, had a bit more fun with the goons.

But alas, he must get back in time before class ends. He knew the twenty minutes he had vanished for were going to raise questions.

He was absolutely correct.

“Satoru, where the hell were you?” Yaga all but yells at the boy stumbling back in. “Class is over.”

The entire class has their attention steering over to the late boy. He knew what he had to say, the lie didn’t need to be ridiculous but he knew regardless, he would still sound utterly stupid. He did not particularly give a fuck though.

“Little boy’s room,” Satoru casually responds, not a speck of shame in his rather comical answer.

This has the entire class locked in a deadly silence. That is before they split into a fit of boisterous laughter. Satoru revels in the fact he’s defused the tension he suspected he may experience.

You narrow your eyes, eyeing Satoru as he trudges over to his seat, tugging his collar into place. You let your eyes fall to the tabletop, looking over your work.

Typical. He leaves for God knows what and you’re stuck doing his work. If this isn’t precedent enough to request a new partner, you don’t know what is.

He’s not said a single word to you yet . . . How odd. You expect him to do no less than tease the living hell out of you or ask if you missed him.

All that swarms his mind however is what the hell is in this vial?

“What the hell is in this vial?” Suguru murmurs quietly as he inspects the glass tube.

“Beats me,” Satoru replies, swiping the bottle off him. “I need to figure that out.”

“Don’t you think that maybe you should’ve handed it over to the police?” Suguru asks, the sound of fellow classmates typing away on their laptops and chattering away in the campus library buzzes in the background.

“Police won’t do shit,” Satoru bites back, rolling his eyes. “If law enforcement was capable of anything, don’t you think that there wouldn’t be a need for Spiderman?”

“What about Spiderman?” Haiba butts in unannounced.

Satoru nearly jumps five feet in the air at the sudden intrusion. His six eyes that worked in his favor as a sixth sense to alert him of danger have helped him tremendously in combat time and time again, but not so much with nosy classmates.

Quickly pocketing the substance, he looks at Haiba, “None of your business.”

“Are you kidding? I spent all afternoon looking for footage from today’s robbery—I got nothing,” Haiba whines, flailing his arms in the air.

“I heard it was pretty cool,” Satoru boasts pridefully, earning a well-deserved elbow to the gut from Suguru.

Haiba trots off to go bother Nanami before Suguru faces his best friend again. “Oh fuck. Y/n is coming this way. Good luck.”

The vigilante’s eyes widen when he recognizes your stern, no-nonsense face and stride. Everyone is well aware of what that means, your kind and lighthearted behavior is put on hold in favor of your stern approach to your academics.

He half expects you to create a scene in the library but he knows you better than that. You never openly got angry, the worst he’s seen you do is roll your eyes. It’s one of the reasons he pokes fun at you as much as possible, hoping to see how he can make you crack.

Yet, you never do. You hold notebooks and files close to your chest as you march to a halt three feet away from him. Indifferently, you pull out a packet and hold it out for him.

“Since your bladder has never-ending issues, I did your part of the lab today,” you chide like you have a myriad of other things on your mind.

“Shit—you did not have to do any of this,” Satoru knows he should be frowning, but he’s not. A little leer spreads on his face, eyes wide and glimmering through the lens of those glasses he absolutely had no more use for since the day he was bit by that spider.

“Don’t bail on me again. Then I won’t have to do it,” you purse your lips at him before you turn around.

He is left there with nothing else to do but embarrassingly watch you walk away, clutching his lab report in his hand.

“Hold on,” Satoru mumbles to Suguru as he watches you sift between the aisles of shelves.

 Before either of them know it, he’s making his way to the aisle you are in. He’s eyeing you up and down almost skeptically, eyes lingering far longer than they should.

“Can I help you?” you quiz quite impertinently, your right hand pulling out a heavy book from the biochemistry section.

“Why did you do my part?” Satoru tips his chin down, a crease forming between his silver brows.

“Because you . . . didn’t do it,” you slowly iterate, grasping the book with both your hands as you flip through the pages. 

“Well, duh, but why?” Satoru repeats. “You didn’t have to do it. I ran out of class and left it all on you—you shouldn’t have done it.”

You take a deep breath, slamming the book shut, “If you really think I did it for you, you really don’t deserve to be in the same class as me at all. I did it so I don’t have to rely on you to get the work done. I’d rather have the work done right than have it half-assed. And here I thought you were much more clever than that.”

“I’m not stupid,” he smirks. “Just confused about a lot of the things you do sometimes.”

“Yeah, because you don’t know me,” you say, sliding that book back into the open slot on the shelf. You look up, reaching for another book that is placed well above your head.

“I know you. I know you’re your father’s daughter,” Satoru’s statement is playfully delivered yet it strikes you like a bus. His fingers stroke the spine of the book you were reaching for, relishing the fact you couldn’t reach it. He looks down at you, tugging the book out and holding it in his big hands. “You might just be stricter than the captain himself.”

“Why are you talking like you know my father?” you glare, folding your arms.

“Seen his interviews on the news. He’s one tough cookie—but it only makes sense when you’re a cop, huh?” he has a lilt in his head.

“Why are you saying stupid things?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. “I already have enough on my mind, I don’t need you badgering me with nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense, it’s my professional opinion as your partner,” Satoru holds the book out with a ridiculously charming smile.

“Lab partner,” you fix his statement, reaching for the book but he pulls it back out of your reach, stupid grin still on his face. “Don’t play games with me, I have to get to work now, and you have to get there too.”

You pry the book from his hands and stride off before he can annoy you further. Satoru’s head turns, following you march off. He’s not sure why he’s trapped in staring at you for so long.

“I’m guessing you plan on finding out on your own as to what’s in that bottle,” Suguru interjects in the middle of Satoru’s wandering mind, popping up in the aisle.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Satoru fishes in his pocket, hoping that the touch of his cool fingers on the glass will telepathically reveal its identity to him. “If I had the equipment to do it on my own . . . it would be so much fucking easier.”

Suguru gapes at him like he’s stupid, “Hello? You intern at the biggest scientific research facility in the city.”

Satoru’s brows raise and the corners of his mouth turn down, weighing the possible next route to his answer.

“Okay, you have to log the results in the system like this,” you instruct your team. “Then you move on to the next step. Trust me you don’t want to forget logging that data, it could entirely throw off the process.”

You’ve been interning at JJ Technologies since last summer which has done nothing short of drain you of any free time whatsoever. It’s only been several weeks since you were moved up to lead a fresh batch of young interns. Luckily, you haven’t had to deal with teaching them in the laboratory with the equipment, just basic information and note-taking thus far.

That unfortunately was only the first of four hours at the facility. The next three hours, you would be holed up in the lab, inspecting and experimenting with nanotechnology. As tiring as it is, it is just as rewarding.

Knowing the amount of good that can be done with this research and work was a brilliant means of motivation. Society has advanced already as it is—the world of medicine has benefited greatly—billions of lives have the chance to improve. How could anyone give up on that?

Thoughts of what homework assignments you have yet to submit reign your brain. Hours and hours of straining your mind to intake as much information and apply it all in the lab was making you want nothing more than to crawl under your covers and call it a week.

With a hefty breath, you take a well-deserved recess to the vending machine. Hoping that this little trip for a snack can hold a candle to the sleep you oh so desire.

Satoru knows his assigned place of work is four levels down. He also is aware that his group had been dismissed ten minutes ago and he should be swinging his merry way through the streets to scout for trouble.

He is also entirely aware that he should not be on the twenty-something floor that had a chance of having an empty lab right about now.

Swiping his boss’s ID card is far too easy, shooting an inconspicuous web at any cameras of interest is just as simple.

The hard part is deciphering what is in this damn vial. The lights are dim inside the particular lab he steps into. A breath of relief pushes out of his lungs as he pulls the small bottle from his pocket, circling the stations to get to the specific equipment he needs.

There’s a limited amount of liquid in the vial, so he knows he must handle this process with care and precision. The story would be different if he had another vial or two.

You watch almost lifelessly as a bar of candy and a canned coffee drop down, landing with a dull thud. Mindlessly, you reach through the bottom flap, hearing the faint hinge as you pull out your restitution for break-free work.

Closing and harshly forcing your eyes back open, you try to keep your mind alert as you march on back to the lab to clean up. When you open the door, you’re not expecting this boy to whip his head up at you like a deer in headlights.

“Gojo?” you furrow your brows, one hand still on the door and the other clutching your food.

Gojo is stunned into silence, a laughable silence. When he says nothing, you tip your head down, “What are you doing here?”

“I just had some work,” Satoru quickly lies. “My manager needed me to look at something. I know you’re pretty happy to see me—your face says it all.”

“Oh, does it? Aren’t you supposed to be on the 20th floor?” you quiz, left eye twitching.

In most situations, when Satoru’s backed into a corner, he can somehow flip his way out of there or even sweettalk whoever he needed to. But he can’t explain why he actually feels bad lying to you, it makes his head whirl. “Uh—yeah, but I had to use some of the equipment up here.”

Squinting skeptically, you near him slowly. As you do, Satoru can’t help but gulp. He’s not sure what it is he should focus on. The fact he needs to come up with a way to convince you to not report him? Or the fact you are only a couple inches to his left, looking over his shoulder? The fact you look so adorable in a lab coat?

“What is that?” you peer down at the vial, noticing he has already placed a drop of that substance down on a microscope slide.

“Not sure,” Satoru shrugs. “I haven’t got the faintest clue.”

You continue staring at the chemical concoction, you flick your gaze at him, “Mind if I take a look?”

“Go for it,” Satoru shuffles a couple inches over, giving you enough room to peer into the eyepiece of the microscope.

He can’t help but tautly swallow, hardly able to pay attention because of how sweet you smell. He has to stop himself from telling you just that but he can’t let it get to your head. As effortlessly as he spins webs, he only hopes he’s half as graceful when feeding you some half-assed answer as to just what this chemical was and that his manager most definitely would give him such a compound.

“Hmm,” you hum, slowly turning the dial on the side of the instrument to lift and then focus what was in the slide. “Figuring out what is it shouldn’t be too tricky. I just need to measure the resonance frequency by breaking the substance down a bit more. Then determining the chemical properties shouldn’t be too tricky.”

Satoru’s brows lift and the edge of his lips turn down, amused clearly. “Wow.”

“What?” you blink.

“I always forget how smart you are,” he says airily. When you shoot him a look that seems to be a hybrid of threatening and offense, his nose crinkles and his glasses shift accordingly on his face, “That came out very wrong. I just meant—”

“So this is why you broke into my lab?” you cut him off, still squinting down at the substance.

“I didn’t break in,” Satoru defends himself. “I just figured no one would notice.”

“Why don’t you check over the logic in that again,” you suggest, eyes glancing up at him. “It’s hard to believe you’re the guy who almost beat me out for valedictorian.”

“And why’s that?” Gojo tilts his head, leaning his elbows on the table. It leaves you eyeing him from head to toe as inconspicuously as possible. Sometimes you forget how tall he is. The fact he towers over you serves as a friendly reminder he’s not just any old geeky kid from school.

Before you can give him an answer, his phone buzzes. He shoots a glance down at it, his pretty features sinking. The program he had compiled with Suguru to tune into the police’s radio communications to pick up on any crime alerts had pinged with notifications on his phone. There was a robbery currently taking place at a jewelry store three streets away.

“Shit—my aunt needs me to pick her up from her cooking class,” Satoru quickly lies, blinking unsteadily as he faces you. “It’s kind of far and not safe for her to ride the train by herself. I have to go. Sorry for bothering you—”

“Wait—” you hold a hand up, earning a wide-eyed look from him. It’s kind of endearing how earnest he sounds. “How about you go, and I’ll keep looking at this for you? Once I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

“You don’t have to,” Satoru frowns, sliding his backpack on, his Spiderman suit nestled neatly inside.

“It’s no problem. You go—don’t keep your aunt waiting,” you beckon him to get a move on. “I’ll see you at school.”

There you go again, being so incontestably kind yet being so severe while doing so. It’s when you crack a hint of a smile to ease him that he actually does as you say. That must be the first he’s seen you sincerely look at him.

Satoru rushes out the door and you glance down at the vial again, trying to understand what exactly the contents of it were.

Satoru has no time to think about how badly he feels leaving you with such a task. He’s too busy webbing his backpack up high on an alleyway wall after he’s changed into his suit.

Before he knows it, he’s already in the air, swinging loosely through the streets of New York. He feels the wind rush at him like it wishes to capture him, keep him in the sky with the moon. But with how quick he’s moving, he feels invincible—like nothing can touch him.

Satoru’s fallen into the same routine every night. Despite the fact he never gets the recognition in his personal life, he would not give up being Spiderman for the world.

Citizens walking the streets all gasp and point when they see the great Spiderman shoot past them like a comet. His white and blue suit makes him look like he was meant to be a part of a winter night sky, the sapphire blue spider emblem in the center of his chest casting a beautiful contrast in the ensemble.

He pays no mind as the silver meshy strings of his webs cling to buildings, aiding him in passing through the streets with ease. He also doesn’t stop himself from enjoying the occasional flips to impress the children out with their families and friends. Satoru insists it’s entirely necessary.

Once he spots the store mentioned on the police comms, he zips around the corner. Landing right above the entrance to the small jewelry shop, he pushes it open rather discreetly. It’s almost comical the way the goons inside haven’t the slightest clue that the Spiderman was crawling into the shop right above their very heads.

Thanks to Satoru’s wall crawling abilities, he’s able to cling to walls and ceilings with ease and without so much as breaking a sweat. So when he casually gawks down at the masked thieves, he tilts his head in amusement at how panicked the men look shouting orders to one another.

“Quick! Before Spiderman gets here!” one spits, stripping a diamond chain straight from the display case. When his friend breaks the glass case all together, he screams, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“The Spider’s not gonna come. He’s too chicken,” the other responds. “I’d like to see him try.”

“Cute,” Satoru chuckles above them.

This causes all four to whip their heads up at the masked vigilante. Satoru is only able to see their eyes through the cutouts but he can tell by the way their pupils dilate that they are downright terrified.

In the papers and in the news, Satoru is privy to the fact the general public is split on whether they see a need in all the flips and tricks that come along with Spiderman.

Satoru couldn’t care less though, he is wholeheartedly prepared to stand trial to attest to the fact that the flair is entirely necessary. He displays the testimony by the very way he does a backflip and lands with both feet and a palm planted to the ground.

“Y’know I left a really pretty girl all alone just so I could stop you?” Satoru teases lightly, straightening up and flexing his arms by crossing one over the other. “But hey, if that’s what you think, we can make this a lot more fun.”

One of the men reached for his gun, pulling it out and pointing it at Satoru. All he huffs out is a displeased and underwhelmed breath as he shoots out a web, yanking the gun back.

“Come on. Show a bit more effort. You’re killing me,” Satoru drawls like a six-year-old. His six-eyes alert him of an impending punch hurtling his way from his left, making him duck and grab the very goon’s fist in the process. “Missed me!”

The goon let out a threatening growl as he swung again, only to miss Satoru. . . over and over again. Satoru laughs childishly as he doges and parries off swings one after the other. Two of the others manage to finally point their guns at the arachnid hero, clicking the safeties with a string of snaps that causes the shop owner to gasp and cower further into the corner he was in.

Satoru rolls his eyes, delivering an unruly kick to one of the men that dominos into him clashing into his friend, knocking them both to the ground.

The hero giggles at the pathetic exhibition before him. He hardly bats an eye when one of the men throws something that resembles a marble to the ground. A cloud of smoke emits from the impact of the small pellet on the shiny limestone floor.

Satoru’s eyes widen behind his white and black mask. He moves to leap back but inadvertently breathes in far more than he intends to.

His head spins, or maybe it’s the room that is spinning, he can’t tell. All he knows is that his head is suddenly throbbing in pain, every nerve ending feels like it’s thrumming to burst within his very skull. Like they are conspiring against him and hoping to flee the purgatory of his mind.

His ears tune in and out like his head has been dunked underwater. Vision beginning to blur, he tries his best to plant his feet firm on the ground but to no avail. He’s hit with a great wave of despondency when he envisions his uncle’s dead body before him.

That and flashes of him in a beautiful house overlooking a balmy little coastal town, the sound of his laughter blends in with a girl’s and he cannot distinguish whose.

He hardly gets the chance to decipher the strange blend of images when he is suddenly hit in the back of the head with a crowbar.

Once again, the poor boy’s head rings and his head snaps down from the impact of the weapon to his skull. He lets out a pained groan, doing his best to gather himself and seize control of his sense again.

His vision begins to clear and all of a sudden, his six eyes begin to tingle and flash in his mind. INCOMING.

He listens to his instincts and ducks straight away, successfully dodging another deadly swing of that damned crowbar.

“Alright, party’s over,” Satoru scowls under his mask and flips back, snaking a well-aimed and well-timed web sticking to the man and tugging him back.

He punches him quite harshly in the face that it all but knocks him out. Satoru quickly lunges for the two goons in the midst of aiming their guns at him. The thieves don’t even process how quickly they are disarmed because Spiderman has already smashed their heads together.

They drop to the ground, leaving one more thug, quivering in terror. He points his gun at Satoru with a shaky hand, only to find that weapon of his leaving his very hands when Satoru tugs it at towards himself with the help of his webs.

“Last one, huh?” Satoru smugly says. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

The thug fumes as he charges at the vigilante, “I’ll fucking kill you. If not me, then the others!”

He throws a fist at Satoru, but he whips his head to the side, “Others?”

He then lands a punch of his own at the criminal before successfully dodging yet another hit. As Satoru’s third punch causes the thief to lose balance, he’s already in the middle of stringing the man upside down from the ceiling.

“Who are your friends—” Satoru stares at the tangled man, readying his fist to intimidate the thug. “And I advise you talk.”

“I’m not saying shit!” The thug spits, trying to wriggle free.

“You’ll be here for god knows how long. All that blood rushing to your brain, oof, must hurt a little.” Satoru threatens playfully. “And it’ll hurt like hell when I actually beat you to a pulp!”

“Shit! Okay! Okay!” the thief cries, panic-stricken sweat dripping down his forehead into his hairline. “I—I work for a guy named Jogo! He’s this freaky looking guy that wears this mask on his face—I’ve never seen him but he’s big in the group, works with some other guy—I don’t know his name.”

“Jogo,” Satoru mumbles wracking his brain to see if he has had a run in with him. “What is he up to?”

“I’ve got no clue! I swear!” the man attests frightenedly. “All I know is that they needed us to look for a specific relic—You see my partner you knocked out right there? He’s got a picture in his back pocket. Jogo sent a bunch of us on heists in banks and jewelry stores to see if we can find it but there’s no sign of it anywhere.”

Satoru steps back and grabs the photo from the pocket of the man the other thief had indicated. He pulls back the photo, glossing over it briefly.

It was a photograph of a box. Made of some sort of coppery-silver metal with engraved eyes on the sides of it. The irises though, were made of jewels—rubies.

“Going through a whole lot for this freaky looking thing,” Satoru waves the photo with a dexterous flip of his fingers. “Why are they going through all that trouble for this? And what’s in it for you?”

“Wish I knew why those guys want that thing,” the man shakes his head, eyes still wide. “They told us they’d give each of us a cut in all that we returned from the heists—Jogo is not someone to be messed with—he’d track us down and kill us if we went back on our deal.”

“Tch. You’re scared of the wrong people,” Satoru tuts, stowing away the photo for safekeeping. “Tell me what that thing was that your friend threw on the ground. That little ball.”

“That? I have no idea. The boss just gave my partner a few—I think that was the last one. He didn’t tell us what it was or what it did,” the felon explains.

Satoru feels his own fingers twitching in irritation, “Think again. Remember what it was and I’ll go easy on you.”

The criminal’s eyes widen, “I don’t know anything! I swear! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Goodnight,” Satoru grunts out, ramming his elbow into the man’s nose, putting him to sleep.

It’s a matter of seconds before Satoru is watching from a few rooftops over as the cops arrive on scene. The flashing blue and red lights flashing into the back of his very skull. He’s running through what the thug he interrogated said, trying to make sense of it.

Speaking of making sense, you’re lugging yourself out of the lab after finally making sense of just what that vial Satoru had given you contains.

The worry on your face embeds itself into your features as you stash the chemical in your bag. Why would his manager hand this to him?

You glance over your phone, seeing your father calling you as you’re walking towards the train platform. Taking a beat to answer, you speak into the receiver, “Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart, are you on your way back? It’s getting late,” your dad says, chatter in the back cause your ears to perk. Radios and police codes being tossed around in dialogue.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for the train,” you reply, looking up and down the tracks. “Are you still working?”

“Yeah, captain duties, dear,” your father responds calmly, yet you can hear the annoyed strain in his voice. “That spider’s strung up a few men in a jewelry store downtown. Taking care of what’s left of this place.”

“Oh—you saw Spiderman?” you ask, watching the train stop in front of you, bracing yourself as the lashes of wind whipped at you full speed.

“No, he’s left his webs all over the place,” your dad grunts dishearteningly. “Damage control is going to have lots of fun with that . . . Mom’s going to be pretty mad at us tonight for missing dinner, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” you nod like it’s obvious, sitting down and making eye contact with a gruff pair of men before quickly averting your gaze. “Maybe you should bring her flowers. She always likes that.”

“Yeah, maybe I will,” your father says. “Alright, honey, get home safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

You think over what he says. Your father always mentions the elusive Spiderman. How none of his men have gotten even close to cracking the case on who the wallcrawler is. How Spiderman is somehow everywhere and takes care of crimes of all scales.

How could a man find the time to even do all that?

The desire to study a man like him plagues your mind far much more than you would like to admit. Who would pass up such an opportunity?

But more of what’s spinning in your mind like a deadly train is why Gojo has a vial like this?

Speaking of trains, when yours comes to a stop, you stand up to get off. It’s unfortunate that the subway stop couldn’t be closer to the next one you are supposed to take.

As you drag on down the street, you mull over what you plan to say to your dad when you try convincing him to simply leave you be once you move out because your safety is put more at risk from the distant and late commutes after classes and your internship.

There’s something in your gut telling you to rush, like you’re being chased or watched at the very least.

You toss a look over your shoulder, seeing those two rugged men about fifteen feet behind you. It’s well past dark and your heart hammers louder against your ribcage, a prisoner demanding release.

Facing forward again, you try to hurry as fast as you can but you feel helpless when you enter a scarcely populated street.

Fuck.

That’s when you break into a full speed run. You hear the footsteps behind you pick up. Your hand slips into your bag’s pocket to grab your mace or taser, but when your fingers only skim the glass of that substance Satoru gave you, you know you’re doomed.

You glance back again, thundering heartbeat blaring just as loud as your footsteps against rough pavement.

“Hey, pretty!” one of the leering men shout. They are far too close to you now. “We just want to have some fun!”

You reach for your phone to send an SOS message to your dad—but that’s exactly the moment the man grabs your arm. You scream in horror, trying to keep going but the other one grabs you too.

Against your will, they drag you into the deserted alleyway nearby. You’re still wriggling in their hold, hoping to free yourself. Thrashing, kicking, screaming, you try it all.

“Let go of me!” you scream. “My dad’s a cop and he’s on his way right now!”

“Shut up,” his friend spits. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” you grit your teeth. “Captain L/n—badge number 103—”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” the first man says. “You look better when you’re not talking. We gotta do something about that.”

Your eyes widen, and you try pushing, screaming as loud as your lungs can take. The elbow you throw against the jaw of one of the men seem to have done some damage. His head whips to the side but surprisingly his body shoots back about five feet, striking against the brick wall.

Your big eyes follow the man, seeing that wasn’t your doing at all. Of course, it wasn’t. How could a girl like you simply cause a man to fly across an alley and slam against a wall?

That’s when he appears like a fallen angel. In black and white, a glowing blue in the core of his chest, a symbol of hope.

Spiderman.

He’s against the wall the man had flown into, but you have to crane your neck a fair amount to look up at where he’s clinging to. You can hardly blink at the fact he’s against the brick wall with no reinforcements whatsoever, just his fingers and soles of his feet keeping him afloat, defying physics, logic, and gravity.

“You gotta be at least a little attractive to hit on a girl like that,” Spiderman tilts his head, voice light yet husky, young.

“Fuck,” the man closest to you now was backing away. “I didn’t do nothing! I’m—I’m sorry—”

“Ugh, shut up,” the vigilante drawls, dragging out his syllables childishly.

He drops down with the most impressive of flips you haven’t even seen gold medalist gymnasts do. After he effortlessly sticks his landing, he wastes absolutely no time in lunging at your assailant.

He punches him square in the side of the jaw, the pop loud enough that you gasp, stepping back.

The man lets out a frightened cry, and right when you almost feel bad, you’re reminded of how you screamed a few moments prior. Yeah, this terror is well deserved.

Spiderman delivers a seamless kick to the side of his opponent’s abdomen. The entrancement you’re trapped in doesn’t let you avert your eyes at all. His movements are like water, like a choreographed dance even Broadway level performers can never imitate.

A scientific miracle. Something inhuman. Someone untouchable.

The man falls to the ground after taking a quite deadly strike to the face. Your eyes go from the attacker on the ground to his attacker.

The superhero stands there, his back to you, silhouetted by the dingy light from the end of the alley. He turns his head to the right, and you’re guessing he sees you from his peripheral because he’s still not looking directly at you.

You want to watch him for much longer, the superhuman that saved you. The superhuman in a well fitted suit, defining every inch of his body—his muscles, his perfect height.

“You okay, miss?” Spiderman asks, turning to you.

“Y-yeah,” you rasp. “Is—he . . .”

“Dead?” he finishes, snickering. “No. Just sleeping peacefully till the cops get here. Which should be in about five minutes.”

You nod, humming in the little frozen state of yourself. Behind the mask, Satoru wants to do a million things. Ask you a million things. But he knows he needs to keep up the persona of the wall-crawler he his.

“You don’t want to get caught in the lengthy questioning the police are going to do, right?” Spiderman (Satoru) crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

“Not really, no,” you hardly move at all as you speak.

“See? That’s why I like my way of business. Less paperwork,” the web slinger jokes. “I can get you where you need to be in a matter of minutes. Tell me where you were headed.”

You gulp, “Home. But what do you mean? I don’t think you have a car—wait a second.” That’s when the reality of the situation hits you. “You’re real?”

Satoru chuckles, “We’ve been talking for almost a minute now, lady.”

“I know, but,” you’re looking him up and down. “I thought those news reports were based on just pranks. Seriously—no one has seen much of you—I thought these criminals were just leaving webs everywhere as a sign of loyalty to their gangs.”

This gets the man to laugh again, his head is facing down, and he shakes his head. You’re staring again, it’s hard not to.

“Alright, miss,” Satoru looks at you, making sure he doesn’t accidently slip up and call you by your name. “Where were you headed? Home?”

“Yeah,” you say, watching him push himself off the wall and hold a hand out to you. You glance down at his hand, then up at his face. His mask is covered in synthetic fibers stitched to imitate webs.

“I know you’re shaken up by those guys and what just happened but please trust me,” he sounds inexplicably genuine, unaccountably sincere. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Your eyes soften, so does the rest of you as you place your hand in his. There’s a level of trust you don’t understand the strength of when you do so. It’s borderline undermined when he tugs you toward him quickly, eliciting a gasp from you.

“You might want to hold on tight,” Spiderman suggests, snugly sliding his arm around your waist, pressing you against him.

“What are you—,” you don’t have the opportunity to finish your question when you find that your feet have left the ground.

You grasp on tighter to him, heeding his suggestion without so much as a second thought. You look down, feeling the wind whipping in your hair. The sight below you is enough to draw a yelp. Well, anyone that is being swung through the streets of New York would. It’s only natural.

“Oh my god!” you scream when you feel yourself hurtling towards the ground.

He shoots another web in the nick of time before you hit the concrete, and you’re in the air again. You bury your face in his neck, clamping your eyes shut. Satoru holds you close, tightening his grip on you. This feels nice.

A part of him doesn’t want this little swinging spree to end. Maybe it doesn’t have to.

“Sorry. No seatbelts,” Satoru laughs. “Should’ve mentioned that!”

“You think?” you quiz, half gasping with the rush of the wind. “Wait! Where are you even taking me? I didn’t tell you where I live!”

“Just trust me!” he yells back.

You open your eyes, looking over his shoulder at the city. The lights don’t blur like you expect them to. You feel like you’re flying, like the moon was waiting for you to join with the stars.

Cars seem smaller suddenly. People look smaller. New York, though, looks just as vast as it always has been.

Once the initial fear shakes out of you, you stare at the city, “Woah.”

You turn to look at him—at Spiderman. He’s still focused on swinging you through the city with one arm. Studying his mask, you can see the fibers of fabric, polyester or something similar. There can’t be many people that can say they’ve seen Spiderman, let alone been this close to him.

You’re amazed, in awe of the impossible. Peace consumes you as you continue to gaze at the wonderous city you love.

Another swoop over rooftops and you feel him lowering towards one. You hold on again, hoping the landing isn’t so rough. Luckily, it isn’t.

You look around, realizing you aren’t on just any rooftop. You’re one of the rooftops of the building you live in.

“How’d you know I live here?” you quiz, brows furrowed and jaw slack.

Satoru has a bit of an oh fuck moment. Words almost fail him but he’s easy to recuperate.

“Well, your dad lives here, doesn’t he?” he points at the ground. “The captain?”

Your mouth that was agape slowly closes and your eyes drift to the edge of the building, “Oh. You know who I am.”

“I know who your dad is,” the man replies. “Seen him a bunch of times. So I’ve seen your face around the main precinct a lot and on the news.”

“You have?” you cock a brow.

“Yeah—hey, don’t worry about those guys. Just try not to be alone at night,” he advises, gesturing with his hands. “Guys see a pretty girl and don’t know how to act a lot of the time.”

You can’t help the slight brow raise when you realize he called you pretty. Satoru pays it no mind however as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Where were you coming from anyway?” he asks, pretending not to know.

“JJ Tech headquarters,” you answer, licking your lips discreetly to tame yourself from gawking at his lean yet muscular figure. Eyes lingering far too long on how the skintight suit fit him, accentuating everything.

Satoru catches this, smirking to himself, “JJ Tech, huh? You must be pretty smart.”

“Pretty smart would be an understatement,” you say. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there this late anyway. I should’ve been home two hours ago.”

Satoru’s ears perk up, he takes this as his opportunity to pry, “How come you stayed longer?”

“Just this guy—he ran in and asked me to help him with an assignment,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.

“Just a guy? He your friend or something?” he asks, leaning his back against the wall to the stairs.

“Or something,” you mumble.

“Oh?” Satoru pipes. This is the perfect moment to see what you think about him. To even flirt with you without any repercussions. “Does that mean he’s your boyfriend?”

“What?” you squeak, voice all high pitched. “God, no. No. He’s just a classmate. He pisses me off most the time—I can hardly stand him at all.”

Satoru scowls beneath his mask, not what I was hoping for.

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact you exist,” disbelief clings to your tone. “You know you’re a scientific marvel, right? Scientists would kill to study you.”

He laughs, it’s a pretty laugh, one that feels hauntingly familiar, “You want to cut me open or something?”

“Oh, I’m not qualified enough to do something like that,” you wave your hands. “Who’s to say I can’t study your body in other ways?”

Satoru can’t help but smile, he sees that glimmer in your eye and you sound so innocent despite how inviting you phrased that. You don’t even realize it, but he smiles wider.

“You’re funny,” he laughs, shaking his head.

There’s a bunch of things on your bucket list, a lot of things you aren’t sure you’ll get to even accomplish. One of them being making thee Spiderman laugh was definitely not one of them.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, pulling him from his little fit of amusement. “I thought I was . . . I thought they were going to get away with what they wanted to do.”

Satoru raises his head again, straightening up. It dawns on him that he’s responsible for you being out on that street this late. That if he had hurried up, he could’ve gotten back in time like he planned. He just feels lucky that he made it in time.

He made it just in time, and he’s thankful for that. But he truly hates the fact you almost got seriously hurt because of him. He’s at fault and he knows this will haunt you for a long time.

“Don’t thank me. It’s nothing any normal human being wouldn’t do,” Spiderman tells you, walking over to the edge of the building. “Just stay safe. And know you can depend on your friendly neighborhood Spiderman anytime.”

And with that, he dives off the side of the building. You suck in a harsh breath, rushing and leaning over the elevated stone along the perimeter. Looking down, you find that you have to follow the black and white blur swing up again.

You smile breathlessly, watching the amazing Spiderman soaring off.

“Suguru, it was all my fault,” Satoru paces his apartment . . . ceiling?

 He’s walking in circles upside down, feet sticking to the ceiling like it isn’t scientifically impossible. His mask off but his suit remains on.

“If I hadn’t left her there for so long working on that freaking solution, she wouldn’t have left so late. If I was even a second off, I don’t even know what could’ve happened,” Satoru’s white locks are swaying as he walks. Although he defies gravity, his hair doesn’t.

“You saved her though, that’s all that matters,” Suguru assured, stuffing the chopsticks with a mouthful of noodles in his mouth. “But how did she not recognize you? There’s no way you talked to her.”

“I did,” Satoru drops to the ground. He makes his way over to where Suguru sits on the couch, picking up a box of takeout. “Maybe she’s not as smart as she thinks she is.”

“Please,” Suguru eyes Satoru, handing him a pair of chopsticks. “Don’t underestimate that girl, she’s smarter than half the tri-state.”

“Sure, she’s cute and happens to be smart,” Satoru shrugs. “She’s just a girl though, not a threat.”

“Why did you bring up her being cute?” Suguru narrows his eyes, lowering his food. “That had nothing to do with the conversation.”

“What?” Satoru mutters, chewing on his noodles. “She’s beautiful—there’s no denying that.”

“Beautiful?” Suguru laughs.

“What?”

“You just took it one step further,” Suguru teases, laughing again. “You have a crush on her!”

“What? No, I don’t!” Satoru snaps.

“Now it all makes sense,” Suguru has a wide grin. “Teasing her nonstop, annoying her to get her to yell at you. Wow, you can just ask her out, y’know.”

“Okay, you’re on drugs,” Satoru squints at his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah,” Suguru dismissively says. “So did you get that vial back from her?”

“Obviously not, I’m not supposed to know about that as Spiderman. Only Satoru Gojo knows that,” Satoru states, pointedly gesturing with his utensils. “I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

“Hm, what are you going to do now though?” Suguru asks. “I mean about this Jogo guy that thug told you about.”

“I’m not sure,” Satoru mumbles. “I’ll have to look into that.”

“Shoko, you know I wouldn’t make up something like that.”

“I know! That’s not what I said, it just sounds insane. Like, Spiderman? The Spiderman?”

You stare at her flatly and Utahime rubs your shoulders, “That sounds terrifying. Did you tell your dad?”

“What? Are you kidding? No,” you quickly spit. “If I tell my dad that he’s going to station two cops to follow me twenty-four seven. I can’t have that.”

“Y/n, that could’ve ended very badly,” Shoko frowns dejectedly. “What if Spiderman didn’t show up?”

“But he did,” you say. “If he didn’t, I’d be dead, and all my stupid little worries would be gone. But you don’t understand—that man . . . wow.”

Shoko and Utahime pause to look at one another, the former quizzing, “You—you don’t have a crush on Spiderman, do you?”

“Not a crush, no,” you chuckle, sipping your coffee before you look down at Shoko from where you’re sitting on the picnic table. “Fascination, yes, I have that. But to be honest, he was incredible to look at—his body was . . . ugh, I don’t have anything appropriate to say.”

“Now, this is how I know you need to get laid,” Shoko chuckles. “Having a crush on a spandex wearing spider is insanity.”

“Is it?” you look at where she sits on the bench. “You experience what I did, and I’d love to hear your opinion.”

Shoko frowns at you, then at Utahime. That’s when the latter says to you, “Wait, didn’t you need to talk to Gojo?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, sparing a cautious glance to your bag containing that mix. “Got to go over that stupid project before class. Would it kill him to be on time? He’s always late.”

There’s no need to tell your friends what the fuck Satoru had given you to configure on your own. Not until you at least talk to him and get the full story. You have enough on your mind as it is, having Shoko and Utahime’s thoughts thrown into the mix would only rattle and confuse you further. It doesn’t help that one of them grew up with Satoru and knows his aunt and the other loathes him almost more than you do.

“I’m going to grab a croissant before class,” Shoko rubs her stomach. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

You hop off the bench and head on down towards where your Orgo class is. There’s still about twenty minutes left till class and Shoko falls behind to grab her baked good.  

Those memories of last night carry you where you need to be. You strut along the path with a purpose, your hair is effortlessly styled, makeup barely there, yet it somehow masks just how disheveled you truly feel.

“Gojo!” you call as you spot him by the bottom of the steps in one of the University’s vast courtyards, he just so happens to be in the midst of discussing something Digimon related with Haiba.

Haiba and Suguru’s eyes widen as they realize it’s you storming towards Gojo and not just any other girl.

Satoru flicks his gaze over as you walk over, stopping in front of him. He’s not sure what to say, he knows he should probably address the task he stupidly left for you to do but he hardly strings a solid greeting together without sounding stupid, “Hey.”

“Can I talk to you—in private?” you ask, your face gave away an austere look, like you were about to scold a child.

How can he say no?

He nods, standing up and following you down the side of the building. The two of you are supposed to be heading down to class that happens to be the other way but he doesn’t even question you when he’s whisked onto the school grounds.

His mind fumbles through the events of last night. He had two conversations with you. One as your savior and one as the guy you got stuck with for science class. He’s racking his brain enough to decide how to behave although the answer should be obvious.

The boy follows you behind the bleachers, looking around with an incredulous quirk in his brow when you step into the dark underside of them.

“Is everything okay?” Satoru blinks as you stop.

“Gojo.” You sternly face him, not saying anything else.

“That’s my name, yeah,” he sassily retorts. “Doesn’t answer my question though.”

“Don’t test me,” you hold up your index finger threateningly.

Cute, he thinks.

“Where did you get this?” you hold up the small vial. “And the truth this time.”

Satoru’s eyes lock onto the green liquid, unsure what lie he should curate this time. He could simply insist on the same lie as before, convince you that you were overthinking. Or he could tell you the truth, ultimately putting your life and his secret in danger, but hey, it’ll save him from looking entirely idiotic.

“I told you, my manager,” he states, reaching out to take it.

You pull it back, further from his reach and he wants to laugh at how easy it would be to take it from your hands in the blink of an eye.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you quiz.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” he says, a smile goes with that shake of his head, his hair falling over his bespectacled blue eyes. “Just a little scary.”

“Listen, I know your manager didn’t give you this because he wouldn’t give you this.” You pointedly flash the vial in his face. “Do you realize what’s in here?”

“Wait,” Satoru’s smile fades. “You’re telling me you actually found out what’s in it?”

You nod haphazardly, more confused than skeptical, “You don’t know?”

“No—I don’t, what is it?” he asks, nearing you too closely without meaning to.

You lower your hand, “It’s a highly concentrated blend of hallucinogens and anesthetics. One sip could send a man into cardiac arrest—or worse, kill him.”

Your eyes are on his, but his eyes aren’t on yours. His are on the bottle of chartreuse in between your fingers.

“Satoru,” you murmur quietly, lowering the bottle into his indecisive palm, his fingers edging closer to yours but pulling back ever so gently before they attempt to muster the courage once more. You glance down at his long pale fingers, his skin glows sweeter than the moon itself.

Your gaze dips to your skin grazing his as you place the bottle into his hand. You let your hand linger against his, not sure why you don’t think of retracting.

Why are you just realizing how pretty he is?

The rims of his glasses glint as he looks at your face, studying your features like he’ll never get the chance to ever again. You blink yourself into snapping out of it, pulling your arm back and swallowing dryly.

“Sorry about the trouble,” Satoru quietly says, stowing away the vial.

“It’s okay,” you reply, voice rasping. While his eyes are focused on tucking the bottle safely, you say, “I don’t know what it is you’re hiding—I won’t ask, but please be careful.”

Satoru can’t help the grin he cracks, “I’m tougher than I look.”

And when he walks away, there’s a strange feeling that stirs in your gut. A feeling that tells you he may be right.

You aren’t sure why you’re still thinking about why he had that chemical in the first place. Did he make it himself? Did he buy it off someone? What was it intended for?

The rest of your organic chemistry class, you’re left there wondering what that boy is up to. You’re left wondering why he is missing class again today after you just saw him. And you’re left wondering whether Satoru thanks Yaga for never marking him late or absent at all. Call it favoritism, you suppose.

He thanks any deity that he can think of when he arrives on time to JJ Technologies before his manager questions him.

He finds some time to slip away, sneak up to your floor while you’re instructing your latest interns. He smiles, watching you scribble something down on your clipboard while you walk.

“Okay, this right here is just a sketch of one of our current studies,” you point at a holographic, digitized image that appears above a table. “This is a paradigm for a new discovery of nanoparticles. They’re commonly used to reduce the number of catalytic materials within chemical reactions. There are two fields within certain industries that they are applied to. Can anyone tell me what they are?”

The students all flip restlessly through their notepads, struggling to look for the answer to your question.

Satoru can’t hide the snicker he lets out. Half the student look back at him and you peer through the batch of preppy kids to see him.

“Petroleum refining and automotive catalytic converters,” Satoru replies, still smirking complacently.

You have a bit of a curl to your lips, eyes locked on his as you say, “Yes. That’s correct.”

Seeing him appear within your mix of pupils almost throws you off, but you know you have a certain image before the students so you keep yourself composed. You quickly instruct the students to write the answer down and head to their stations with their teams.

When the interns disperse, you cross your arms, face to face with Gojo.

“What do you want?” you ask, a sickly-sweet smile on your face.

“Oof, would it kill you to talk nice to me?” Satoru acts like a wounded soldier, palm across his abdomen.

“I feel like it might, so I’d rather not take the risk,” you say pointedly.

“Hm, right,” Satoru scoffs, he looks down. “You’re going to be alone now in the lab, right?”

“No, I’ll be in the lab but not alone,” you say. “My colleagues are going to be in there with me. You need something?”

“No, I wanted to ask you something,” his brows tense.

An odd sensation stirs in your stomach, “Ask me what?”

It’s been a while since either of you actually began interacting with one another somewhat civilly. You don’t know what it is that will come out of his mouth but you’re suddenly hopeful.

He grabs your hand, leading you off to the side, causing you to jerk your head around in case anyone’s looking.

Once you are beneath the mosaic mural of DNA helixes on one wall, Satoru stops, letting go of you. You try not to let the idea of his hand staying in yours distract you from what’s to come.

He tries not to focus on how soft your hand is, and once again how the fragrance of your perfume feels like candy on a summer day.

“You didn’t tell anyone about that bottle, did you?” he whispers, eyes darting between yours and the rest of the busy facility.

“No,” you shake your head. “Of course, not. I had a feeling you wanted to keep it private.”

Satoru looks at you, his smile reaching his ears, “Aw, how sweet. You care about me.”

You smack the back of his hand, causing him to hold it close to him possessively and rub it gently from the very slight sting of your slap.

“Shut up,” you snap, catching the way his blue eyes gleam behind his glasses. “Is that all?”

“No,” he states, straightening up and switching his tone from light and playful to serious. “You said it was deadly to take a single sip. That the properties within it were so overly saturated it could do serious damage. But let’s say . . . you needed to use it in combat . . . could you?”

The nature of his question startles you, “Combat? Like if soldiers were fighting?”

“Yeah, sure, like that.”

You’re blinking heavily, looking towards the place where the wall meets the floor, “Well, I suppose it could be used in a vaporous form. Like gas or something. That could do enough damage too.”

“Ugh,” Satoru closes his eyes and pinches his nose. “I was afraid of that.”

“What is it?” you peer up at him through your lashes. “You’re hiding something.”

“No—I’m not,” Satoru groans. He notices the suspicion on your face, “You got time for a snack in the cafeteria?”

Flaring your eyes over his, you glance discreetly at the time, “Fine.”

You begin to walk away.

“That was a yes or no question! Not a secret third response,” he trails behind.

“You got your answer, didn’t you?” you gesture to yourself.

“Yeah, but you seem entirely unenthusiastic about it,” Satoru grumbles. “A little energy may do you good.”

You hit the elevator button, crossing your arms, “I’m not here to appease you.”

“Appease me? Oh, god,” he lets out a baffled scoff.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Poor choice of words?”

“Not exactly,” Satoru replies, loosely shifting to get into the elevator. “It might be nicer, I guess, to know if you actually wanted to get a snack with me and not as if I’m holding you at gunpoint.”

You roll your eyes, “You brought up a snack and I happen to be hungry. Where does gunpoint come in the mix? You really want me to do cheer like you came to my rescue?”

He almost laughs from the irony but he knows not to. He knows just as well that things could have gone extremely wrong the other night if he had not gone about everything carefully. There’s another sort of irony to him, a different form of saving.

“Mhm, but you like coming to my rescue pretty often,” he responds, a lopsided smile on his lips as he leans against the wall with folded arms.

You squint at him, the word rescue coming out of his mouth reminding you strangely of the danger you were in right in that alleyway.

“What does that mean?” you say with tightening eyes.

“You did my part of the lab report to save my ass, you helped me with that liquid, you kept that secret for me,” Satoru breaks eye contact, looking at the ground. “And that time in freshman year of high school.”

His final reminder steers your heart to a slow pace, your shoulders untense. You remember that event all too well.

“I’m a decent human being,” you explain as if it’s a scientifically proven, immutable fact. “It’s less about enjoying something but more of the fact I would be miserable and angry with myself if I didn’t help someone that needed it.”

Satoru lifts his head to level with you, his eyes are wide in a blank stare. That is right before he suddenly blurts a short chuckle. “Spoken like a true hero.”

Your eyes flit upwards as the doors to the elevator open. He leads you out into the hall, his strides are much longer than yours.

“Wait up! I can’t walk that fast!” you snap breathlessly.

His gaze flicks over to you, his eyes close behind his lens, laughing again. Bustling closely to him, you quiz, “Okay, well you still have a lot of explaining to do. Like where you got that green thing from.”

Satoru stops by the line of sandwiches. His head turns to face you, “Don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not,” you’re quick to counter. He throws his head back as you grab a saran wrapped sandwich from the stall and face it at him strictly, “You’re not normal. That’s what I’m realizing.”

Satoru grabs a sandwich and a sugary soda too and he’s about to follow you as you walk off to a table but is interrupted when the employee behind the register curtly clears his throat. A nonverbal cue to pay for you both.

Satoru lets out a throaty groan, fishing deep in his pockets for a crisp ten dollar note. He rounds the table to the other side, sitting down with you.

“You’re having all these revelations pretty late into our lives, aren’t you?” Satoru picks up the conversation as if there was no gap in between. “I’m a little surprised you just came to the conclusion I’m not normal.”

“Hm, I’ve known for a while,” you hum, turning focus to your sandwich.

Memories are thrust upon you from high school. When you first met him, he hardly spoke. He was short with his interactions and would hardly have the grace to offer more than five words. He clearly didn’t enjoy being around people.

Suguru seemed to help him out of this at some point because in your sophomore year of high school, he came to school as a completely brand-new person. His personality shown more, and he only then began pissing you off.

In a way, it was better than seeing him so down like he was before. Because of that, you have been more inclined to tolerate his shit a lot of the time.

“Listen, Satoru,” you sigh, not even noticing the way his body electrocutes at the fact you called him by his first name and not his last. “I’m very serious about my future. It means everything to me and to my parents. There’s only a certain amount of shit I can tolerate. And I can’t tolerate you slacking off at my expense.”

Towards the end of your warning, you look at him. He lowers his drink from his mouth, eyes straight ahead.

“Fair enough,” Satoru says. His head falls loosely between his shoulders, his hair glistening in the fluorescent lights. “It’s important for your parents too, that’s something I respect.”

Your brows uncinch.

“It’s important I get home on time for my parents too,” you sigh, looking at the time.

“You have an hour,” Satoru asks. “Why are you worried?”

Now he knows why you are worried. He still has to act oblivious, that’s all.

He sees the faltering blinks, eyes dancing here and there, mouth parted without a word ready to fly out.

Satoru takes another bite from his sandwich, talking with a full mouth, “Is your dad strict or something?”

Those anxious eyes morph into a revolted side eye, “You know who my dad is. You know what my dad is.”

“Yeah, he’s just the captain. Not some flesh-eating monster,” Satoru makes himself giggle.

You set your forearm on the surface of the table, rotating your body to turn to him, “My dad is a great man. He’s all law and order and then there’s my mom, also law and order. If I didn’t have enough on my mind, now my dad wants to assign a detail to me.”

“Assign . . .” Satoru shifts in his seat, lowering his meal. “You mean have a pair of cops following you around all the time?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

Satoru’s eyes travel over your face while you’re not looking at him. If the captain does sign cops to tail you, that means that there’d be cops around him. Background checks, tailing him to get a sense of who he is . . . that could lead them to him being Spiderman . . .

“That—he can’t do that,” Satoru pipes, jolting you out of your little trance of eating. “That isn’t fair to you. You wouldn’t be able to hang around me—hell, they’d be standing right behind us listening to every word you say.”

Your lips turn down and brows raise, “I had no idea you cared so much.”

“Sure, why not?” Satoru dials down his emotion.

He supposes he’d have to stay away from you if your father went through with that after all. And he finds his heart twisting and turning from the very idea of doing that.

“He’s pretty stressed because of those string of bank robberies,” you exhale, Satoru’s eyes refuse to move from your face. “So my safety has gotten to his head too.”

Satoru’s blinks were slow, something that could be confused with lethargy, “Does he have any leads?”

“Not really. He just knows they’re all linked. He thinks Spiderman’s involvement is fucking everything up,” you say, remembering your encounter from last night.

“Hm,” and he can’t help but ask. “What do you think about him?”

“Spiderman?”

“Yes,” Satoru’s heart teetering on the edge.

“I think,” you begin, “he’s what our city needs. As a medical miracle, you decide to help others—that shows what kind of man you are.”

He has nothing to say for once. No quick quip, no fast remark. His mouth falls open, unsure how to respond. You were talking about his alter ego, but it felt like you were telling him.

“He’s pretty cool,” you nod, thinking about the vigilante.

He watches as you get up, saying, “I’ve got to get going, I’ve got to get work done before my dad picks me up.”

He feels like he has much left unsaid, but he still watches as you make your way out on your own.

Satoru is rooftop hopping, rushing back after he hit a dead end on a potential jewelry store he believed a heist may occur. That has been his routine that past week on top of annoying you in class and sitting with Haiba and Suguru in the library.

“Hm, okay. I just need to get a minimum of a C on this next exam to maintain my A,” Suguru mumbles aloud. “Satoru, you should maybe focus on your philosophy paper, you don’t want to get called out by the professor again—"

Suguru continues talking but Satoru is on a completely different planet. His gaze had flicked over to you walking through the maze of tables, and it was like an angel had stepped onto Earth.

The dim library of the university had mysteriously brightened tenfold. The incessant chatter of students around you crashes to a muffled halt as the faces begin to lose definition. All he can focus on is your pretty face. Your graceful smile. Your beautiful existence.

He feels his heart caper at the very sight of you laughing, the honeyed sound of it. His heart twists a bit more at the fact that it’s because of another guy.

“Hello!? Earth to Satoru,” Suguru breaks into Satoru’s eyeline. He looks back at whatever could have grasped his attention so unapologetically. He groans in frustration, “When are you going to tell her you want her?”

“I—what? I don’t want her,” Satoru snaps his head over at Suguru.

“It’s pretty obvious you want her, bud,” Haiba says with wide eyes and all Satoru can do is roll his own.

The sleep deprivation is catching up to him and he’s not sure how to remedy it. Those brief hours he does get to sleep he can hardly do so, he’s too busy trying to figure everything out. Where is Jogo hiding? Where is the next hit going to be? Why does he need that relic?

What could you be wearing tonight?

He has to shake his head like a wet dog, screw his eyes shut and bury his ears with his pillow. What is going on with him?

The next lab you have together, you spend most of it trying to figure out how to get through it working together and not competing against one another.

Afterwards, he wants to trail behind you, talk more to you but you’re tugged away by Shoko without fail.

 Every time.

Every time you sit on some staircase out on campus, step through the winding aisles of bookcases in the library, sit at some table in one of the cafes, Shoko or Utahime are always there.

He figures he’ll get the chance at JJ Tech but he’s barely seen you with how busy both of your schedules have been. His last resort is waiting for a perfect moment to get you alone. 

Satoru manages to catch up to you somehow once again in the library, studying for midterms.

“Here,” he places a bottle of chilled coffee in front of you on the table, it sat before your notebooks and thick textbooks like an almighty divinity.

Your eyes pierce through the coffee, then up at him, “How’d you know this is the flavor I like?”

You look tired, usually you can put yourself together enough to not seem so, but tonight it’s apparent. Your pens and highlighters are spread across the desk in a crazed frenzy.

“That’s the one you usually get at work, I don’t know. Thought you might need it,” he shrugs nonchalantly, sitting down.

You straighten up, wanting to smile but holding that feeling back, tying it down, “Oh, thanks.”

“I see you’re studying for . . .” Satoru tries guessing but squints at the papers you have strewn across the table, “what class?”

“Neuroscience,” you sigh, chewing on the end cap of your highlighter.

“Stop doing that,” he lowers you hand, essentially pulling the highlighter away from your mouth. He then opens the bottle of chilled coffee, handing it to you, “Here.”

You take it from him, eyes on his as you pull it towards your mouth, taking a sip. He leans back in his seat, his eyes roaming the papers you have laid out.

“Looks fun,” he drawls, looking through everything. “Have you had something to eat yet?”

“No, not yet. I’ll eat when I’m home,” you answer. “Have you?”

“No, me neither,” he says.

“Oh,” you ponder over what the situation is. “If you aren’t doing anything, we can go get something to eat right now.”

Satoru nearly stops breathing, he has every reason to frantically say yes. One: he happens to be starving. Two: he knows he’s going to be busy all night with studying and with his Spiderman duties. Three: he can sit and relax with you. Four: It’s you.

But he needs to get going, a potential lead came up in relation to Jogo he needs to check out right now.

“I can’t,” he wants to punch himself. “I have to help my aunt with something.”

Disappointment prickles through your body, a feeling you weren’t expecting in the least in a situation like this.

“Oh, that’s okay,” you gather your belongings.

“Wait—where are you going?” his eyes go wide, watching you pack your bag.

“Uh, home,” you say as if it were obvious. “Did you forget what we talked about that one time? Dad—security detail—never letting me breathe?”

“You can’t actually be worried about that,” Satoru says as you sling on your bag. “I highly doubt the captain will go through with that.”

“Just make sure you’re on time tomorrow for class, we have to work on that lab,” you tell him, flipping your hair as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“I have an issue with losing track of time,” Satoru frowns. “It’s not my fault.”

“Maybe use your glasses to keep an eye on the time. Are four eyes not enough? Do you seriously need six of them?” you challenge with a look over your shoulder before turning back to the exit.

He wants to laugh at the sheer irony of your question.

Satoru’s on a rooftop again. Another sleepless night is sure to pass him by. He follows lead after lead, suspect after suspect, but nothing.

That tip he got led him to nothing. Led him to nothing but missing class the next morning.

He’s thinking only about how guilty he feels, how he should apologize for bailing on you again during lab. Especially when you told him not to.

You count your lucky stars that you are sitting at home today worrying about your midterm exams approaching and not worrying in the lab.

Your father shows up at your door with a cup of hot cocoa, settling it down beside you. He has a cup of his own, a rare to see smile on his face as he sits down next to you.

“Thanks, Dad,” you beam, taking the cup.

“How’s studying going?” he asks.

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “How’s that heist case coming along?”

“It’s stressful,” he huffs out as well. “Got a bunch of different stories coming from the witnesses and that Spiderman jackass isn’t helping with my peace right now.”

“He’s not so bad,” you chuckle, taking a sip.

Your dad cocks a disgruntled brow, “That guy’s a menace. Just like that one news guy keeps saying.”

“That guy is crazy, Dad, and you know it,” this time you scoff.

“You calling me crazy, too?” your dad quizzes.

“No,” you set down your cup, “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that Spiderman has saved a lot of people. A lot of his good deeds go unnoticed because there are so many little things he does that don’t get broadcasted. Whatever—anyway, what are the witnesses saying?”

Your dad slowly lowers his offended brow and explains, “Witnesses from each location are saying they were knocked unconscious. Then there are witnesses who are also saying that the suspects dropped some sort of spray on them, then there are others saying it may have been a gas they inhaled.”

“Gas?” your nose scrunches.

“Hm,” your dad nods. “After they either inhaled or felt it on them, they started hallucinating. Some saw flashes of things they feared in their life, or of traumatic moments, or they were close to being driven to sleep by pictures of nice dreams. It all is difficult to figure out what it is. Our forensics team is having a shit time with narrowing it down since it may flush out of their system quick.”

You gawk at him, lost for words. It’s a highly concentrated blend of hallucinogens and anesthetics. One sip could send a man into cardiac arrest—or worse, kill him.

Your own voice rings in your head but his face is what appears before you. Those sparkling blue eyes and that silvery white hair. A flash of that green vial struck in an instant too.

“It’s all pretty confusing,” your dad exhales, taking a sip from his foamy drink. There’s a ring at the bell, steering his attention to it. He looks over at you, ruffling your hair, “You get back to it kiddo, I’ll see who it is.”

He walks out, closing your door and you look over that video about the fundamentals of chemistry, your notes splayed open with highlighters and sticky notes littering your desk.

But you can hardly focus—now that you’re thinking about Gojo all over again. This all has to be a coincidence, right? There’s no way Satoru Gojo of all people is affiliated with a high crime gang and drugging people to rob banks. There’s just no way.

But his voice rings in your mind once more—a memory of your conversation when he asked about that liquid being able to be used as a gas in combat. . . ‘I was afraid of that.’

The little three tapped choreographed knock on your door tells you that your father is on the other side.

“Sweetheart, there’s a . . . boy from your class here to see you,” your dad awkwardly says.

You blink the tiredness away, getting up and heading to the foyer of your penthouse apartment. Your hand rests on the railing as you descend down the stairs, only to stop halfway when your eyes land on snowy hair and silver framed glasses.

His sky-blue eyes lock onto yours, his blinks are restless, and his pretty lips are parted. You see him visibly gulp, like he was nervous to face you.

“What’re you doing here?” you finally say, remembering the fact he abandoned you once more today.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Satoru waits a beat till his heart tries to settle down. “Is that okay?”

You should yell at him, and you truly want to but for some reason you can’t. You huff out a sigh, beckoning him to follow you. As you turn around to lead him up the stairs, he’s once again scattering his field of vision everywhere.

He’s paying attention to the extravagance of your home. The chandelier in the foyer, the numerous potted bonsais and lilies, the expensive stonework polished floors, the ornamental china vases and molded ceiling. He shouldn’t expect any less from the daughter of the veteran police captain of the city and the successful assistant district attorney. Your parents were clear overachievers, mother and father both, it is no less than obvious you would be on a similar path of greatness yourself.

He eyes you rather shamelessly, it’s not like you have eyes on the back of your head. You glance over your shoulder at him.

Or maybe you do.

Satoru already felt scrutinized at the door when your father opened it. He should care a little more but finds that he doesn’t care one bit about the police captain’s protective gaze on him following his daughter up to her room.

You open your door, unveiling your bedroom to the boy. Suguru and Haiba would go nuts if he were to tell them he was standing in your room with you right now. Nanami would hardly believe him at all.

Your room is neat, that’s the first thing he notices. And it’s exactly how he pictured it. Furniture white, minimalistic and clean. The bed had four posts, sheer curtains draping down the top. You had white boards, bulletin boards, filled with excessive diagrams and notes. You had bookshelves in a corner of the room, lined with chemistry and medical textbooks where your desk was.

There was a wall of windows that overlooked the city, a balcony that had a set of Parisian doors to it. He wonders how much time you spent out there with your thoughts and what they could possibly be.

While he’s observing every element of your room, you face him. He has this wondrous look in those frosted eyes of his, a look that makes them look even wider. His lips part and when you look at him in the dim lighting from your study lamp, you notice the way his top lip prods out slightly over his bottom. That they have a pouted yet subtle curve to them that came to life when he smiled. That there was a soft pinkish sheen to them.

You wonder why you’re suddenly paying such close attention to him these days.  

“Here,” you speak, ringing yourself out of wherever your mind was going.

He cocks a brow, gawking at you rifling through your school bag. His puzzled expression deepens when you press a packet of paper against his chest. “What’s this?”

“Your part of the lab report,” you grumble, eyes cold yet thwarted. “Just memorize the material by next Friday before our presentation. I’ll make sure the rest of what’s left throughout the week gets done.”

Satoru’s entirely taken aback. You have every right to be mad but he wasn’t expecting you to still want to help him. His arm shoots out to grab yours before you can walk away. Your halted against your will, shocked as you gape at him trapped in the lamplight as it clings to his skin.

“Wait—that’s not why I came here,” he sighs begrudgingly. “I came to apologize. I’m sorry I missed class and bailed on you.”

“Twice,” you correct with furrowed brows.

“Twice,” he revises. “It was a shitty thing to do. And it won’t happen again.”

He swallows dryly as he stares at that cynical look on your face. He looks like a lost pet, waiting to be scolded by its owner.

“Promise?” you tip your head to the side.

“Promise,” he answers, he feels his heart tearing through his chest at how you’ve suddenly acquired a childlike disposition, one he’s never had the chance to witness before. And all because of him.

“Okay,” you smally smile, flashing your pearly teeth at him. “But if you bail on me again, I’m telling Yaga to give you a zero.”

“Got it—but how come you’re so sure he’ll give your word priority over mine?” Satoru challenges.

“Because you were the second smartest kid in high school, and I was the first,” you pointedly say. “I have a higher GPA than you, I have won three more academic awards than you have—and let’s face it, my attendance record outranks yours in an embarrassing way.”

Satoru presses his lips firmly and raises his brows in hilarity, trying to contain that laughter wanting to blurt out of him. He fails though, laughing anyway.

Your lips part as you stare at him, suddenly you’re so aware of how tall he is again, how he’s not as lanky as he used to be in high school.

“At least I’m not stupid,” Satoru tells you knowingly. “You could’ve ended up with a lot worse than me.”

“Really? Like who?” you cross our arms.

“Yuki—Haiba—Need I go on?” he speaks with a teasing tone.

“God, no. I got your point,” you hold your hands up in defense. Your nose twitches as you let your hands slowly fall to your sides. “You didn’t have to come all this way to apologize, you know. You could’ve just apologized tomorrow or over text, you have my number.”

“You wouldn’t have thought twice about forgiving me,” he puts his hands in his pockets. “Or murdering me.”

This evokes a laugh from you, cheeky and bright, this cold light of the moon suddenly feels like beams of sunlight embracing him, warm and comforting.

Then you point a finger at him, “But you have to tell me why you have that green liquid.”

Satoru can’t flip his way out of this corner. Another lie must suffice, “One of my friends from my neighborhood gave it to me—said he swiped it off some kid in his school. He wanted me to find out what was in it.”

“Oh,” you frown, all doe-eyed and innocent. “You should get rid of that thing. It’s dangerous.”

“Will do,” Satoru salutes with his middle and index fingers. He catches that little sideways twitch of your mouth, as you stare at him from the bottom up but stop halfway. “What is it?”

“I’m just a little shocked you’re not really how I thought you’d be,” you say. “Is that bad?”

“Depends,” Satoru eyes the room shamelessly, glancing at you before he sits down uninvited on your bed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. We’ve known each other for like over half a decade—and we hardly ever really talked. I always thought you were some nerdy guy that had a bad attitude. I guess I thought you never really liked me.” You circle around the bed post to get closer to him.

Satoru’s brows are raised so far up high that they are practically skimming his hairline. He was talkative, just not with you at first. He feels like he might’ve been a bit blunt overall—but that changed for him when he became Spiderman years ago.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” Satoru says the unexpected. “I guess I just found you intimidating.”

“Me?” you point at yourself, sitting down. “Why? You’re, like, one of the most talented kids I know.”

“Because you’re crazy smart,” he blurts out, smiling as he can’t even maintain eye contact with you. He feels your body heat, just a few measly inches to his left. You’re in reach and he’s scared he’ll do something to cause you to slip away.

Your eyes widen at his words, and he seems to not be done yet with the way he sucks in a breath, hands resting either side of him on the comforter.

“You’re insanely clever and nice and it doesn’t help much that you’re pretty,” Satoru is shaking his head, meeting your gaze once again. Once again, gorgeous eyes stare back at him.

You furrow your brows, not remembering an instance in your life where you had seen him look so vulnerable for even a moment. Your eyes flick down to his pouted lips then back up to his eyes.

“You think I’m pretty?” you whisper.

“Is that even a question?” Satoru breathes.

You lean close, his icy blue eyes contrast his half lidded warm look behind his glasses. He inches closer, your noses brushing against each other.

Your lips are half a centimeter away from his. He can smell the scent of your lotion, the sweet scent of your lip balm. He’s so close to tasting it that he feels like he’s the closest he’ll ever be.

That tingling sensation shot up his spine and straight to his ears, not because of this tension.

It’s his six eyes telling him there’s an incoming threat. Footsteps. They’re faint, but he feels them coming this way.

He suddenly jumps up, grabbing the lab report and rifling through it, “Your dad.”

“What?” you’re taken aback, your face crinkling.

“He’s coming,” he says.

You blink at him, wondering if he’s just scared or if he didn’t want to kiss you in the first place.

“Listen, Satoru, if you don’t want to—”

Your door swings open, revealing your father. One hand rests on the knob and one on the door frame. The way he opened it indicated a sense of urgency, or a sense of wanting to catch Satoru in the act. The act being the boy making a move on you.

“Hey, sweetie, everything alright in here?” he eyes you quickly at the term of endearment but then keeps his razor-sharp cop stare on Satoru. He’s not doing anything to ring alarm bells, simply just thumbing through report papers like he gave the impression of initially.

“Yes, Dad!” You glare at your father. “I thought we talked about knocking.”

“Oh, sorry—I was just—” he attempts defending himself but your eyes widen as you tilt your head at him and he ushers himself out of your room.

“Jeez. You’d hardly believe I’m nineteen years old with a dad like that. What is he going to do after I move out,” you grumble. Your eyes slowly dance over to the boy who was standing up, “How’d you know he was coming?”

“I could hear his footsteps,” he says.

“Yeah, you told me like a whole minute before he actually was at the door,” you stand up, nearing him. “I know your eyes suck, but no one has that good a sense of hearing.”

“I told you that’s what I heard,” he defends himself.

You tighten your lips, watching him set the papers down with his eyes fixed on the door. His eyes are still but his mind runs a mile a minute. He’s ruminating on the fact he almost kissed you and that your father could have walked in. What’s worse right now though is the fact he is still standing in the wake of your missed moment.

“Satoru, something is up with you,” you stand up, taking a daring step forward. Your shoulders square in assertion, “I’m not sure what it is. But I promise you can trust me.”

He slowly turns his head to you, thinking about what to say but his breath stops short when you place your palms over his chest, gazing up at him.

He gulps, and he hopes you don’t see how his nerves are clearly rattling, shaking his very bones. His phone buzzes with the soft four chimed ring he’s all too familiar with and he curses himself and every other wrong doer in the whole city of New York.

“I . . . I’m sorry,” he grabs yours wrists. “I have to go.”

He goes around you, passing you without so much as another glance. You watch him leave your room and in the simplest of terms, you felt like shit.

You begin walking to your door to slam it shut when your father runs past you, frantically pushing his limbs through his police jacket, his other hand on his phone.

“Dad—what is it?” you question breathlessly.

“Sorry, honey, have to go in. There’s another theft in progress in the upper east,” your father explains in two quick breaths.

Your eyes follow him as you hear the front door shutting after he leaves, only a minute or so after Satoru did.

You can’t help that scowl you toss at your microscope on your desk, or how you sprint towards it to inspect the elements once again.

Satoru is thinking only about you. Only you, only you.

His cognizance on the fact he should focus on this heist is hardly doing him favors from how much he regrets not kissing you. If being caught by your father was a repercussion anyway, how bad could that have possibly been? Yeah, so what. Mild embarrassment, maybe a few threats here and there.

His hand wraps around the web he shoots at the side of the building, swinging straight through the shattered window. He has no time for histrionics, he just wants to get to the bottom of this case.

When the thugs turn to face the man that flew in through the window, they all drop what they are doing, scowling menacingly at the boy.

“Okay,” Satoru cracks his knuckles, tweaking his neck to the side. “Let’s wrap this up.”

That’s what prompts four burly men to lurch at the boy. Gojo makes quick effort to shoot at one’s face, gluing a sticky web to his eyes and hindering his senses completely.

He knocks over another one with a horse powered kick, pushing him into a glass display. He’s nearly amazed with himself by how rushed this fight is.

Another man comes at him with a closed fist, brass knuckles adorning them as they hurtle straight for Satoru’s face. With lightening reflexes, he swats the man’s arm, aiming the base of his palm straight up the man’s jaw. Except it isn’t his jaw he’s aiming for.

An anguished scream of agony leaves the man as he cradles his bleeding, broken nose. Spiderman towers over him again, kicking him in the gut while he’s down.

The fourth man fires several shots at Satoru, unfortunately for the goon, he hasn’t experienced just how the Six Eyes senses really benefit the Spiderman.

His gun is in Satoru’s hand before he knows it, a stringy web stuck to the end of it. The thief’s jaw drops, eyes reddened and wide when he witnesses the way the gun crushes in the vigilante’s hand, the pieces of it crumbling to the ground.

“This is getting boring,” Satoru whines immaturely. “I can’t believe I had to give up being with a pretty girl for this.”  

Forcibly tugging the man towards him with a web, Satoru delivers a lethal blow to the back of the man’s head, instantly knocking him out.

The sound of a glass rustling behind him draws his attention, the man he had knocked into the display was on his feet again. He has something in his hand that catches the vigilante’s attention, three small balls.

“Fuck no,” Satoru grabs the pellets by shooting webs again. “Not falling for this again.”

He lunges to the wall behind the man, psyching him out when he kicks off the wall and practically tackles the man to the ground.

“Not in the mood to get to know you,” Satoru frowns, his boot on the side of the man’s neck. “Where’s Jogo? And who gave you this?”

He hold up the pellets of gas, the stare of whitened eyes through his mask are enough to terrify the man.

“Please! I don’t know where Jogo is! I was just instructed to make this hit!” the man chokes out. “I got these through the—the lady we got that makes these—her name is Hanami—she works in a lab somewhere—we don’t know where. She has someone drop them off and she tells us where after the drop’s been made but—”

“You’re not telling me what I need,” Satoru steps down on the man’s throat harder.

“I—I can tell you where she gets her stuff from! In fact, I heard from somewhere that she’s got a guy on the inside getting her the goods. It’s at Myrtec Chemicals—one of her guys told me there’s a drop happening later tonight!”

“Thanks,” Satoru lifelessly smiles, kicking the man unconscious.

Shivering behind a wall of crates is not how you expect to be spending your Friday night. What you envisioned after a long night of studying was curling up with some popcorn and other snacks to watch a nice movie.

Most certainly not a group of men talking about people they are planning to kill.

“Man, I fucking hate the captain,” one spews. “I’d love to rip his heart out of his chest if I ever got the chance.”

You cover your mouth, trying to contain your gasp. The suspicion that Satoru may be involved with these men is tearing you apart. You haven’t seen or heard him in the last twenty minutes you’ve been here.

Standing outside the wired fence of Myrtec Chemicals is not how you want to go out. So slipping out now makes sense. You needed to make sure Satoru wasn’t linked to these guys and there’s been no sign of his loudmouth anywhere.

As you shift to run off as fast as you can so you can get to the bus stop at the edge of the next street, you accidentally bump your elbow into one of the big crates. A dull yet prominent thud reverberates through the air.

Fuck.

“What the fuck!”

“Someone’s here?”

“Who’s there?”

You know once again you’re cornered. Why must you test your luck so often? How on earth will you get out of this one?

“Hey! You!” a man is looking around the pile of crates, eyes landing on you.

You make a run for it but he grabs you—as expected. You cinch your eyes shut and a loud whoosh over your heads shoots through the air.

No way.

“Hey! Hands off her!”

The voice is hauntingly familiar. So is that black and white suit and that emblem of blue across his chest. That glowing spider—hope.

Spiderman leaps at the man that had grabbed you, striking him across the face. The other men shout out, rushing to grab their weapons, all the while the great Spiderman is making haste to scoop you into his arms.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry about this.”

“That’s okay, been wondering about you for a while,” he says with ease, then he leaps and you scream out, not realizing you’re on top of a small security tower. “Stay put here, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod seeing the thumbs up he gives you as he falls backwards to the ground, flipping straight back into action.

You watch as he takes down the remaining men, but the fascination to him isn’t all that you think about. You’re trying to pinpoint that voice—that cadence and rhythm in it. It sounds an awful lot like—

“How’d you end up here?” the vigilante is hanging upside down by a web in front of you, attached to the top of the watch tower’s antenna structure.

You blink, retracting in place, “I thought my friend might be here, but I might’ve been wrong. I was just worried.”

“You get into trouble pretty often, don’t you?” he chuckles, still upside down.

That thought invades your mind again—his voice sounds too much like his. There’s no way. There’s just no way.

“Sorry about that,” you shake your head.

“Why’d you think he’d be here?” the man tilts his head.

“They’re using a chemical, aren’t they? Those thugs?” you quiz. “They’re using it on people when they ransack places like banks and jewelry stores. I analyzed the particles and managed to isolate where certain specialized compounds can be mixed and it traced back here. Thought I’d check it out.”

Satoru’s suspended in the air, his state of mind matches his physical state. Speechless, he does nothing but stare.

“Ugh, God, why are you so stupid for someone so smart?” he groans.

“Excuse me?” you quickly pipe, taking a step back as he lowers onto the tower’s rail with you.

His arm slips around you, and he murmurs, “You could’ve gotten really hurt. This was a very dumb thing to do.”

“I know that but . . .”

“Why’d you have to come, huh? You care about that guy or something?” he asks, shooting out a web to another building.

“Yeah, or something,” you quietly say, eyes on him. Your suspicion as to who is behind the mask is starting to piece together and you aren’t sure whether you should comment on it or not. “Wanted to make sure he was okay.”

He can’t even face you. Do you even know what you’re saying? He wants to chalk it up to delusion but a mind as sharp as yours can’t be subject to something so petty as delusion.

When your arms slip around his neck, you stare at him and you can practically see through him.

“Hold on as—” Satoru begins.

“As tight as I can, I know,” you finish, not even being as terrified as you were the first time he web slung you through the streets of New York.

He stops at the top of a building, one far too high above the ground. That is when you realize you aren’t on top of any old building at all. You gawk from this point, the highest point of New York’s famous Vessel.

You look down, overlooking the Hudson Yard and seeing that the structure is closed to the public due to how late in the evening it is.

“I’ve never actually been here before,” you marvel at the sight. “It’s beautiful.”

“Hm, it is,” Satoru mumbles, staring at your wonder-stricken eyes.

At the sound of his voice you turn slowly, facing him, “Thank you for saving me. Again.”

“Nothing to it,” he replies, his tone hinting at a smile you can’t see. “Think I might’ve chipped a nail back there.”

Your eyes flit over him, head to toe. While your eyes stay by his feet, you say, “I want to take off your mask.”

“That defeats the whole purpose of it,” Satoru states. “Then you’d see my face. It defeats the sense of mystery too when you find out who I am.”

“I think I already know,” your eyes settle back on the white blank eyes of the mask, wanting to see the blue you’d been thinking far too much about.

Satoru’s stunned silence screams over how you move toward him. Your searing palms set on his chest, he feels like he’s being scorched to ash with how close you are.

He makes no effort to move away or tell you to stop. He swallows his inhibitions when your hands hesitantly slide up his chest to the base of his neck. The tips of your fingers caress his collarbone and neck till they tug at the edge of his mask.

Satoru knows he should tell you that he can’t let you see but he wants it so bad at the same time.

That’s why he watches with withheld breaths when you inch your way as your pull up the mask, slowly.

The pale of his moonlit skin exposes itself to you while you gently tear the mask further up. His chin peeks out, the sharp cut of his jaw, then you see his soft lips, the ones you want to just lean in and kiss so damn bad.

So you do and he knows he’d be stupid to stop you this time around. Your mouth feathers over his before you finally press onto him. Your lips meet his, buttery soft, warming your cold ones by a single touch.

He kisses you back softly but you back away, his head following your back before you part lips. He gazes at you as you cradle the lower half of his face, easing him into letting you take the mask off further.

You pull it back more, seeing that pointed nose of his you were accustomed to watching crinkle as he smiled. Then you finally pull them away from his eyes and his hair. You aren’t so surprised anymore, not as much as you should be at least.

That snowy white hair, like a fresh fleet of ice had poured onto his head ever so lovingly. Then those eyes, God those eyes. The shimmering blue that twinkled so brilliantly in the amber light, the eyes you feel like you’re seeing for the first time without any pair of glasses or masks in the way.

For once, you are the one smiling and he’s left with a somnolescent look on his face, like he could fall over at any moment. His eyes are half-lidded, fixed on your eyes and fleeting down to your lips without any sign of subtly.

He bends his neck down, capturing your lips in his again before slipping his arm around you and his free hand to your face. Now even if you wanted to move away, you couldn’t. Key word ‘if’.

You feel the way he softly inhales from his nose, breathing in like he’s breathing you in. He’s gentle and yearning, like he’s wanted this for a long time.

He presses his lips a little harder, and you can’t help the little sigh you let out. If you were in this situation two weeks ago, you’d be running around flipping your lid at the revelation that Satoru Gojo was the Spiderman. Except now, that mattered slightly less to you.

You both pull away by a hair, noses grazing one another’s as you gaze into each other’s eyes. You pull back a little more to see his face in its entirety. A fallen angel.

The little fidget of your smile as you decide whether to smile or not is enough to have him take the lead and smile anyway.

“So you did want to kiss me,” you say cheekily, eyes glistening from the city lights, the winter air pinching your nose and cheeks.

“Yes, dummy,” Satoru responds with a quiet nuance of hilarity. His gloved hand remains on your face, his thumb pressing down on your chin.

Tipping your chin down, your mouth opens. The cool air of the night blends in with Satoru’s warm breath, swirling in a strangely comforting breath, one that bore escape.

He pushes his tongue into your mouth, doing his best to taste every bit of you because he missed the chance for far too many years. Here, there is no police captain father to rush in, no thug or criminal to interrupt, no man that could touch you. Other than him of course.

You taste like peppermint, like what he would envision a warm and loving Christmas with family to be like. He wants more—he needs more.

Your tongues twirl in tandem, pace still slow but you each feel a growing desire crushing on your souls. It’s heavy and bone rattling, enough that he pulls back to shake himself out of it.

“I should take you back home—your parents—”

“Dad’s going to be out all night with that heist and Mom drank too much wine at dinner and my brothers and sister aren’t going to say anything about me not being home,” you’re quick to arbitrate. “I’m a little cold though.”

“I can see that,” he laughs as you shiver, the frosty air intermingling with his warm breath to create a translucent fog. “I—I don’t wanna sound like I’m rushing but you can come home with me to my place. I can explain everything there.”

You press your tongue in between your teeth in thought before you grin, “Let’s go.”

You help put on his mask when he cranes his neck down to you. He grabs you and you know the drill, hold on tight and do not, under any circumstances, let go.

He’s swung you through the entire city again and you take the time to enjoy, this time trusting him without a shadow of a doubt. The city looks pretty from his view, you count yourself grateful to get a glimpse of that, and that he has shared this special thing with you.

He stops outside a half open window on the side of an apartment building, he helps you through the ledge, safely getting you inside. You take a few steps back and watch him crawl inside, dropping to the floor with the agility of a cat.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing this,” you say softly. “I can’t believe I kissed Spiderman. I can’t believe I kissed you actually. That’s crazier to me.”

Satoru tears the mask from his head, his hair all disheveled fell into his eyes, “That’s crazier to you? That you made out with me not that I saved your ass again?”

“Shut up,” you narrow your eyes, looking around. “This is where you live, huh?”

“Mhm,” Satoru answers, watching you. “So you looked into that liquid again. Why did you come all the way to that place? That was very dangerous. And very very stupid. You really came all that way because of me?”

You face him, the air still coolly frosting at the shell of your ears, “I thought you might’ve been involved with those guys at first but based on our conversations, I assumed that maybe you were trying to play hero.”

“And you showed up and realized I was,” Satoru peers down at you. “Idiot.”

“Hey, if I was an idiot, I never would’ve been there in the first place,” you jab your pointer finger straight into his chest. He lets out an exaggerated and overdramatic cough, clutching his heart as if you did serious damage. “Seriously, Satoru, I get why you couldn’t tell me but . . . were you planning on not being near me to protect that secret?”

He stills, the smile vanishing from his face. His icy hair falls over his equally icy irises, bottom lip pushing ever so lightly into his top one in a small frown.

“I didn’t mean to push you away. I tried to stop myself from being close to you—that day you were late was my fault,” he shakes his head, eyes wide.

“But you still saved me,” you justify.

“But you wouldn’t be there in the first place if it weren’t for me,” he counters quickly.

You lower your eyes, “I have a mind, you know? I can say ‘no’, and I can make my own choices. Staying to help you was my choice. And I don’t regret it.”

Your eyes lift to meet his, lights darkened in his apartment. The only thing illuminating the space is the moon, its incandescent glow spilling into the room as if it were sneaking in secrets.

Shining down on your clandestine meeting, you each are inching closer, lips feathering over one another’s before he can’t take it anymore and kisses you.

His hands thread through your hair, his fingers interlinking at the nape of your neck, pushing you against him. He’s kissing you like he wants to breathe you in, like you’re the air that needs to be in his lungs.

You let your tongue slide across his bottom lip, easing it into his mouth. You lap inside his mouth, exploring every bit that your muscle can physically reach, intertwining with his.

Feverishly, you keep kissing each other, and it simply isn’t enough. Panting like starved dogs, you want to whisper to him to take you to his room but it feels too far—and your mind is running in circles right now.

Between kisses, you reach back, shedding your coat and kicking your boots off. Fuck, why is it always so cold in New York? Couldn’t it be summer, so you had less layers to shed?

He’s reeling you back in every time your lips leave his for even a moment. Taking yourself away from him for even a split second is cruel to him, worse than battling a group of mutants as Spiderman.

Satoru appreciates your enthusiasm and your forwardness, considering he’s not as experienced as he’d like to be for you. Hey, it’s hard to date as a superhero. He just prays it’s not too obvious

Your hands are busy unbuttoning your pants as he backs you into the backrest of the couch, not as coordinated as he hopes. He is not all that concerned clearly because you find yourself on your back on his couch, him hovering over you, lips not leaving yours for even a slight moment.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his hips in between your parted legs. “I can’t believe my luck right now.”

“You’re such a dork—” you begin to joke before he rolls his hips against you, that tent in his pants prods at the heat between your thighs and you gasp out in pure shock and thirst.

Your eyes widen when they shoot down between your bodies, seeing that prominent bulge at the front of his pants, so obviously emphasized in that tight suit of his. How had you missed that before?

“What was that?” Satoru teases, eyelids bonneting over his irises seductively, a coy smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

He tries to hide just how painfully hard he is but now he understands there’s no use. After all, he can still play with your head a bit—just a bit.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

And his lips are on yours again, swallowing in your gasps and vice versa. All the while, he ruts his hips against you, grinding and dry humping like two pathetic teenagers.

Each time he rolls his hips into you, you moan, humming into his mouth shakily. He’s taking each sound in with pride, he can hardly believe he’s drawing out noises like that from you, miss put together. His lips trek down your jaw, peppering kisses as he makes his way down your neck, a smile curling at his lips.

With hazy eyes, you let your hands skirt at his abdomen, trying to tug at the fabric at his waist, “How the fuck do you get this thing off?”

“You’re supposed to buy me dinner before you see me undressed, you know?” he chuckles against your jaw.

“Ha ha, very funny. Now take your suit off—I don’t want to play any more games,” you plead, your tone dwindles towards something most would call pathetic, but he knows better than to make that mistake. “Please, I just want you.”

Okay, maybe he’s wrong.

He doesn’t have the heart to wait any longer either. The command is clear in his mind, tear the suit off, but his fumbling hands make the effort stretch beyond eternity.

While he is busy with the strenuous task of undressing, you decide to get yours over with. With the desire to stop, go slow, take it all in, each of you are still keeping your eyes on each other—listening to the other’s breaths, taking in the sight of the other’s skin unveiling itself bit by bit. 

As ceremoniously as one could in a moment like this, you discard your top and kick off your pants. You regret the split second you look away because when you look back at him, his shirt is gone.

The spider suit has a variant of features, all that aid in the never-ending trade of fighting crime. That suit also serves justice to whoever it may be underneath it, but fuck it underscored just how beautiful Satoru’s body is.

In the dim light, you make out his chiseled abs, how his shoulder blades are sculpted like an artist spent every drop of sweat, blood, and tears into defining them. How those broad shoulders seamlessly crown the defined muscles of his biceps. Your eyes trail down his arms to his forearms, veiny and working to take off his pants.

That’s when your focus shifts to his chest once more. The plains of his torso display his corded abs.

And you’re counting. Five—six—seven—eight—For someone so rambunctious, he sure fails to flaunt his perfect eight-packed figure.

Your eyes lock in on his lower abdomen, how his waist his much narrower in comparison to the width of his shoulders. His hips hollow out as they carve out a defined line, trailing down between his legs.

Temptation is close to getting the best of you when you realize he’s been frozen in place for half a minute now. Shooting your attention back up to his lustful gaze, you’re suddenly hyperaware of the circumstance of you only in your bra and underwear.

“You’re staring,” you warn with a sharp look.

“Mm—and you weren’t?” he returns the same expression, smugly lowering to kiss you once more.

Any argument you wish to spew are revoked the second his lips are on yours again. Satoru’s hands roam your body. Despite the freezing cold of the winter, his fingertips are piping hot, searing your skin wherever they touch. Your hips, your waists, your face, your breasts, your thighs.

Those lithe fingers slide down your side, around your back and where the clasp of your bra is. And you want to giggle at how he’s struggling to get it unhooked.

“Need help?” you grin, leaning on your elbows.

“Shut up—I got it,” he grunts out. He doesn’t have it in him to admit that he’s suddenly registering the fact that it’s you. You’re the one underneath him right now. It’s your body he can’t believe looks this perfect.

His breaths stops when he manages to tear off that stupid bra from you, your fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Hm?” you hum interrogatively, being cut off when he dives down. “Satoru—ah—”

He buries his face in the valley of your chest, kissing you harshly while making his way to your exposed nipples. He latches his mouth over one and your chest nearly caves in. A moan slips from your mouth, hands at the back of his head, curling in his hair while he sucks your tits so lasciviously.

“Fuck—Satoru—ah,” you try to keep your eyes on him but find yourself cinching them shut anyway.

“You sound so cute saying my name like that,” he gasps out, tongue flicking over your pert nipple, and hand massaging at the mound he’s left alone.

Chills dissipate over your arms and legs, causing you to let out shivers. Shivers that could be a mixed response of the cold air and at the sensation of his mouth sucking you.

Satoru begins to lower himself, trailing kisses down your stomach as he goes. He doesn’t stop when he reaches the waistline of your panties. His lips press on top of the cloth, over your pussy, his fingers curl into the waistband at your hips.

His eyes flick up to yours, a smile on his pretty lips as he takes in your expression, pure desire stitched in every crevice of your face.

He pulls down your panties, eyes fixed between your legs like he was seeing the holy grail itself. His mouth is watering at the sight before him. He can’t believe that after years and years of knowing you, this is the outcome. All the competition, the annoyed glances, quick remarks, all boiled down to this very moment. With you spread out underneath him like a slut.

“Fuck me,” he groans out, tossing your underwear to the side. He lifts your left leg, kissing your ankle and trekking his way up your leg. When he reaches your thigh, his tongue begins to playfully drag across your skin. “Mmm.”

With shaky breaths, you watch him get close and closer but then he stops. He mulls over every form of research he’s ever done. He knows if he puts his mind to it he can please you, he just needs a second to reel himself in. Quite unlike him.

You watch him carefully, seeing how his smile faded and how he’s swallowing down dry lumps. There’s a flush in his face that isn’t something you’ve seen before. Is he . . . nervous?

Your hands shift down, cupping his face. At the endearing action, his heart quivers, as do his eyes. That’s when his jaw slacks, tongue lolling out and licking up your pussy.

You suck in a fragmented breath, fingers trembling when he smiles again and does it again. The saliva on his tongue drips down from the tip of his muscle, dribbling straight down to your slit.

“Do you always get this wet around me?” he has a smile painted on his face that is reaching his ears.

“Can you for once put your mouth to good use?” you whisper back sharply, earning a deep chuckle from his as he lowers his face between your legs again.

Eagerly, he swipes a long languid lick from the bottom of your pussy to the top, milking out his spit as well as your arousal. His arms easily slip around your thighs as he now buries his face, lapping at your cunt like a starved animal.

A loud moan rips straight from your throat, you toss your head back from the sheer intensity. And you can’t help but cry out like that again, feeling his tongue circling over your clit over and over.

When he hears a rather high-pitched cry leave you, his chest swells with pride. He isn’t sure what he was so nervous about. He just can’t believe he’s the one making you feel this good—or you’re the one he’s ever had a moment of weakness like that for.

Tilting his head to the side, he angles his tongue. Licking, sucking slurping your cunt, he’s producing the lewdest of noises, getting absolutely high off your taste.

“Oh my god!” you whine, now rolling your hips on his face, fingers tugging his hair and digging at his scalp. “Do that again.”

“What? This?” Satoru feigns innocence, flicking his tongue repeatedly and quickly over your clit, teasing you.

You almost let a scream burst from you, slapping your palm over your mouth as he teases you. It dawns on you then that those blue eyes looking up at you, are the same very ones you took so long to truly see. He’s not in his glasses but that sight between your legs would’ve been just as gorgeous too.

His hands grip your thighs, pushing them closer to your chest. His jaw unhinges like he’s eating a meal, nose rubbing against your puffy clit as he feels himself become impossibly and painfully harder that he could cum right then and there.

Goosebumps ripple over your body, every cell in your body short circuiting. His fingers dig into your flesh in a bruising grip. With another wanton tug at his hair, he slips out a nasty moan, eyes deliriously rolling to the back of his head.

There’s a sense of greed in the way he’s eating you out. Hunger and lust intertwine together in his movements, he can’t get enough.

His hand comes down between your thighs, fingers swiping over your clit.

Your back is arching off the couch, loud and shameless cries escape you one after the other with no end in sight. With your vision beginning to blur like a flock of clouds rolling in before a storm, you feel a white-hot heat between your legs.

Your eyes flicker towards his face below you. His eyes were shut and his brows your furrowed adorably in concentration. His hair fell in soft tufts and his jaw and tongue are moving in ways you would never have fathomed to see before. Needless to say, he is so fucking sexy.

Feverishly rocking your hips as best you can to meet his insatiable mouth, you know your orgasm is closing in. Every piece of your being is only focused on this immense pleasure and straining to get to the peak point it so desperately needs.

He sees you becoming more and more restless, your legs shake more and your fingers tug harsher at his scalp. The way you’re practically screaming tells him all he needs to know, you are right there.

You scream when it hits you like a freight train. You’re cumming right on his tongue and gushing down his mouth. By no means does that indicate he is stopping though. He continues his motions through your orgasm, not daring to stop till you were done.

Free falling from a great height, you’re whining, clawing at his hair, his shoulders, anything. Pushing him away because of how criminally intense the feeling is. He stays right there, undeterred by your efforts to get him away from you.

Your eyes stay shut but your mouth hangs open, long and drained breaths filling the air. Satoru raises his head, “So fucking messy—I find it hard to believe you haven’t always had the hots for me.”

Meanwhile, you still are reeling in your post-orgasm state, chest rising and falling. Your eyes shift to Satoru straightening up, expanding his posture.

“You okay?” he says, devious tones underlying in his voice. Sincerity had flown out the window.

You respond halfheartedly anyway, “Mhm.”

You slowly move to sit up, biting your lip to ground yourself. Despite your head feeling as weighty as a boulder, you hold yourself up. Your hands reach for his briefs, fingers hooking into the waistband and tugging at them.

“Woah—someone’s impatient,” he chuckles.

“We both know you’d prefer this over anything else,” you say with a daunting lilt of your head.

“That might be true but—” he sucks in a sharp breath when your hand grazes over the precum soaked bulge in his briefs. “Holy fuck.”

Hearing his exasperated breaths draw a smile from you, urging your hands to tug his underwear down and freeing—no way.

No Fucking Way.

Judging by your reaction, Gojo understands through and through that you were expecting much less from him.

It isn’t like you expecting so much less, but you weren’t expecting so fucking much. A dire mistake on your end.

It’s monstrous, big enough that if you wrapped both palms around it, there’d still be uncovered length left. You tilt your head in awe, eyeing the slight curve in it. How his pale skin underneath doesn’t overmine the flush in his tip, the white precum seeding at the opening of it.

“Something the matter?” Gojo flatly whispers, fully aware of how long you’re staring. But by no means is he feeling the heat of it.

“No,” you quickly glance up at him, unblinking.

“Uh huh,” he accepts disbelievingly, a cocky smirk on his face.

You lean forward, wrapping your palm around it. You give it a few precautionary pumps, almost as if you’re petting a wild beast, hoping to tame it. When you hear the reaction it elicits from Satoru, you can’t help but fixate on his face.

His brows knit together and his mouth drops, heavy breaths escaping him. Not only that, but you feel it. You feel the way his dick practically jumps in your hand, sensitive to your touch yet wanting more.

Your chest swells with pleasure, letting your hand feel just what he has to offer. You can feel the ridges in it, the way his veins ran thick, pulsating in your hand.

“If I knew this was the most effective way to get you to shut up, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” you murmur, half-lidded eyes on his twitching face.

“Ngghh—Ahh—Shut up,” he shudders, one hand gripping the backrest of the couch, and the other reaching across his stomach, a feeble hope to ground himself.

“Why should I?” you tease, tugging at his dick as you begin sinking further down on your knees, eye leveled with his waist. “I like hearing you like this a lot more, Satoru.”

And just as you’re about to drag your tongue along the tip of his dick, something within him snaps. He shivers, grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you to his lips. A soft moan slips from his mouth into yours.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he breathes between kisses. “—I gotta be inside ya.”

Just then, you practically feel a second heartbeat between your thighs. There is no argument in the world that you could use to refute him. All you do is nod dumbly, giving yourself up to him.

He pushes you down, your back falling against the couch cushions beneath you. Satoru hovers over you, staring down at your face, truly studying it. His gaze flicks down when yours does too, to where your fist covers his shaft.

He shudders pathetically when your hand moves along his dick, pumping it impatiently. He notes the clear enthusiasm it elicits from you, how your body curves into him from how horny you were.

Satoru’s own hand reaches for his cock, jerking it slowly before he drags the tip up and down between your folds, gliding over your quivering hole enough to tease it but not give it what it craves so desperately.

You whine, feverishly bucking your hips up into his dick, hoping he takes pity and gives you what you want.

He chuckles darkly, “So needy.”

He slaps his tip against your clit and you gasp, legs jolting at the feeling. It is more than clear he enjoyed pulling a response like that from you, so he does it again. And when you jerk in place like that once more, he sadistically laughs in a way that you wouldn’t believe he’s a hero at all.

“Look at it when I put it in,” he quickly pecks your jaw.

You hesitantly look down, seeing how he coats his cock with all your arousal mixed with your cum. A little huff drips from your lips, watching how his thumb swipes over his tip, a little wet sound stringing as he fists his heavy dick.

While he aligns his cock with the opening of your pussy, your right hand flies to his left forearm and your left hand curls around one of the couch cushions.

He begins pushing it in, grunting as the softness of your walls cling to his tip, threatening to suck him in. Your jaw drops, choppy breaths falling one after the other at how it feels like he’s splitting you open.

“Shit,” he chokes, his hair tickling your face with how close he is. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your fingers tremble the further he pushes in. Your pussy wraps around him so deliciously that he has to remind himself to practice restraint—for your sake. Ever the hero, Satoru Gojo.

Your breath stops, realizing he has way more left to go when you spare a painful glance down. He isn’t even halfway in yet.

“Fuck—Satoru, you’re too big—it won’t fit,” you push at his abdomen, teary eyed.

“Then we’ll make it fit, baby,” he coos, swatting your hand away. “Nothing to worry about.”

When someone tells you not to worry, you learn, it is entirely appropriate to in fact, worry.

He angles himself to sink into you, glancing down between each of your bodies and up at your face, seeing your face contort into a pained yet pleasured expression. The more you become acquainted with his shape, the more it begins to feel good.

When he ruts himself against you, you let out a sharp squeal, clinging onto him. Your eyes feel like they are about to burst from their very sockets, in an almost cartoonish sense.

He watches you, a smirk on his restless face. He draws his hips back and jams them back into you.

“Oh fuck!” you cry, a crease forming between your brows.

“Aw, you look so cute,” he smiles, taking a breath to wince at just how snugly set he is inside you. “All the other guys at school would want to fucking kill me to get to have a sight like this.”

“You talk too much,” you shake your head, reaching up to grab his jaw.

“And you love it,” he pulls himself out till only his tip rests inside you, then he drives his cock back in you, stringing a shriek from you. He begins doing it repeatedly, thrusting in and out of you.

At first his pace is slow yet precise, the tip of his cock prodding so far inside you, you feel it kissing your cervix. Then he decides it’s better to make you work for it before he gives you his all.

His quickens his pace, his thrusts rough and catching you off guard with each one. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles hooking behind him and toes pointing tautly.

“I’m beginning to think you go looking for trouble just to get the Spiderman to ruin you like this,” he accentuates his point with a well-meaning thrust.

The sounds filling the air are beyond your wildest dirtiest dreams. The sound of his heavy breathing is like music to your ears, just the way your moans are to his. The lewd noises of pap pap pap ofhis balls hitting your ass mix with the squelch of his cock drilling into your wet cunt.

The feeling of him on top of you—inside you, is something you can’t even comprehend the perfection in. Every inch of your body just feels so fucking good that you feel yourself teetering on the edge of delusion.

Your hands make their way up to the base of his neck, your fingers loosely intertwine behind his head. You moan again, letting your fingertips scratch at the back of his head.

Satoru pumps himself in and out of you. He can’t even help it—it’s like his body has a mind of its own. And now, he’s trying to have at least some form of restraint, trying his utmost best to not cum. It isn’t like you’re making anything easier on him.

He nearly falls apart when you pull his mouth to yours, gasping adorably as you let your tongue meet his. You’re sharing the same air at this point, and he fucking loves it.

You feel like you could cum at any given moment. You fixate on that feeling, realizing that you haven’t had time to yourself at all in the last few months. Certainly not enough time for a man to make you cum, let alone give yourself the time to do so.

Now though, you come to the understanding you were deprived. Satoru is giving you just what you needed after so long.

He knows that if his mouth stays on yours, he doesn’t have a fighting chance. So he parts from you, holding himself up by his arms and fucking you even harder.

Your hands jump to his biceps, whining as you do so. All the while, he soaks in your appearance. Your fucked out face, the way your tits are bouncing with every one of his strokes, and the way his cock is slipping so easily in and out of you.

When he suddenly pulls out of you completely, you hardly have beyond a second to realize he’s flipping you over. Your arms rest on the arm rest of the couch, while he adjusts your hips, getting you on your knees.

You turn your head over your shoulder, seeing his big strong hands spreading your ass, spitting down between your legs. You shudder, nose crinkling at the feeling of his spit dripping down to your pussy.

He then slides his dick between your folds again, coating it before he, without warning slips back into you.

He doesn’t ease into it like he did before at all. He has a quick, relentless pace from the get-go. His dick moves inside you like it wants to blend into your body, or perhaps go so far inside you that you feel him in your throat.

With this new position, you feel him prodding deeper than before. Your walls suck him in, helping the tip of his length brushing your cervix, this time at a higher intensity.

He angles his strokes better when his hands grip into your hips. With every lust driven thrust, you feel his fingers dig into your flesh even more. You’re more than certain it will leave a mark that you’ll be seeing for days.

“Fuck me,” Satoru breathlessly laughs. “You’re being such a good girl for me. You feel good?”

“So—so fucking good,” your eyes are closed, nails digging into the plush of his couch. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he darkly mutters.

He ruts himself into your pussy again, feeling the warmth that he never wants to ever part from. He clenches his jaw, trying to ground himself in the smallest way possible at the very least.

His pelvis slams against your ass with great fervor, over and over again. Your heads drops pathetically, forehead against the armrest as you jolt forward . . . forward . . . forward. Your shoulders blades contract, back arching and creating a beautiful crease down your spine.

While he’s fucking you, a part of him wants to bend down and lick up that expanse of skin. Right where the spokes of your spine take shape. Then his eyes fix on the way your ass meets his skin and he does not dare tear his gaze away.

“Mmm shit, baby,” Satoru throws his head back deliriously. “Sucking my cock in so fucking nice.”

Then he rocks his hips against you so zealously that the angle he’s at elicits a loud scream from you. Your body falls forward, knees shaking.

“Oh?” Satoru comes to a grinding halt. “Did I find something?”

He draws himself back and drives himself straight into your pussy again, realigning himself to hit that same spot again.

When you choke out a sob, he grins, “Looks like I have.”

You spare another glance behind you, meeting eyes with that complacent expression on his face. His strokes are quick, deep, and precise, skimming at your g spot just right.

“Oh my god,” you cry, arms and legs shaking. A familiar heat stirs in your core, an iron searing heat. One that feels much more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

You look back again, seeing how Satoru’s washboard abs are glistening with a beautiful moonlit sheen. He throws his head back and you spy the way his jaw hangs when he moans.

Your trembling legs are on the verge of giving out and he feels your pussy clenching. He knows you’re on the edge. He hovers over you, his chest pressing against your back as his hand swirls your sensitive clit in circles.

His senses are clouding, vision blurring just as yours is. Every muscle in your body tightens without any direction, moving at their own accord. A million little tingles flurry over your body like blizzards.

Your throat is drying out from the sheer amount of stamina stringing out of you. And you weren’t even doing any of the work.

Your cunt tightens around him, clamping down on him. His ministrations on your clit get you right where he wants you, cumming like a whore on his dick.

You cry out, body spasming like you no longer have any control over it. You’re writhing beneath him, spilling the sweetest of moans that are going straight to his head.

“Yeah, baby, come on. You got this,” he’s whispering encouragingly in your ear, lips brushing against your helix. “Ah—ah—yeah, just like that.”

Stars stipple across the night sky of your vision. All flickering on and off as if children are playing with light switches in an empty house. Any rational thought flies out of your mind, all you can focus on is this feeling, ardent as a flame.

Satoru’s pace comes to a stop, hands slowing on your nub as he backs away. He chuckles as you slump into the couch, watching you catch your breath.

Once you do, you get back on your knees, turning to face him. He looks as if he’s about to spew some condescending rhetoric but you push him so he’s now seated.

“Your turn,” you say hoarsely, taking your place on his lap.

He surprisingly has nothing to say. Or perhaps he does but his tongue fails him quite severely in that moment.

You straddle his hips with your thighs, sitting up straight in his lap. Your arms are slung around his neck and he finds it so sexy the way one of your hands reach down to put his dick back in you.

As you sink down on his cock, both your mouths fall open, eyes on each other’s. Your arms are slung across his shoulders as you look him dead in the eye and bottom out. You softly whimper but fuck, the whimper that escapes him is worth more than any currency.

His brows pinch and nose scrunches, his pretty lips fall into a pout. One that you want to kiss off his lips so bad. His hands are on your ass, pathetically trying to guide you to go faster and move at the very least. And you do, but the speed you move at is far from fast.

You lift your hips up, and then slam yourself down, earning a strangled gasp from him. You do it again, eliciting the same reaction. Your arms slide down till your hands are at the nape of his neck, feeling the scruff of his undercut.

He moans again, this time wrapping his strong arms around your back and letting you take the reigns completely. He watches the way your cunt sheathes down on his cock repeatedly, your hair in your dazed eyes and all.

As you ride him, he can’t steer his eyes away from any part of you at all, especially your tits bouncing in front of his face. He can’t even help leaning forward ever so slightly, wrapping his mouth around your nipple, hoping it stifles his moans.

You let out a raspy cry, feeling the way his tongue flicks over your bud. His prior hope of suppressing moans is all but futile for you can hear how his heavy breaths spiral into pitchy whines.

Your hips gyrate, rolling against him and he’s already been edging himself to prolong his orgasm but now he knows he’s done for. His dick twitches, and he lets go of your nipple with a pop.

His hands come to rest on your thighs and he looks up at you darkly, “You on birth control?”

Your nails scratch tenderly over his nape again, you bite down on your lip and nod.

“Good,” he simply mutters.

He lets out a choppy moan again, eyes hooded and breaths heavy. His cock twitches inside you again, and with one final plunge in you he’s fallen completely apart. “Fuck—"

His cum spurts inside your pussy, ropes of white liquid shoot in you. The warmth of it invaded your space, hurtling deep in you before it begins leaking out of where the two of you are connected.

Shakily, you breathe as you look down, feeling his seed dripping down your thigh. You take a moment to breath, watching him come down from his high as well.

You both heave heavily, catching elusive breaths. Each of you slowly trail your eyes up at each other, staring for a moment before you both break into laughter.

He rubs his hands over your thighs, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile, tilting your head unconsciously. You flick your gaze over his face, seeing the damp mess his hair is now, sweaty and clinging to his skin. His eyes still have that wintered glimmer. A smile rests on his lips too.

“Can I ask you something?” you quiz.

“Shoot.” Ironic pun.

“Is the reason you’ve been getting under my skin a lot because you had a crush on me?” you ask.

“What? No,” he scoffs, hands on your hips. You cock a suspicious brow, your hands loosely skimming his neck. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh huh,” you nod sarcastically.

“You hungry?” he asks, raising his brows.

“Oh, like crazy,” you breath.

He grins, “Let me order something and I’ll get you cleaned up. Now where’s my phone?”

He stands up, carrying you easily with one arm as he reaches for his phone on the floor. You squeal, tightening your grip on him. “Satoru!”

He pays no mind as he’s already halfway through punching in his pizza order, “Hmm, how do you feel about stuffed cheesy bread?”

“I could go for it, yeah,” you say.

“Great. Done,” he clicks, a satisfied bliss on his face.

“You know have a lot of explaining to do, right?” you remind him.

“You don’t think I know that?” he scoffs airily. “I’d be pretty dumb to forget that with you badgering me around all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue and he laughs, “Kidding! I’ll tell you everything—I swear. Let’s get you cleaned up first. Food should be here by then so I’ll explain while we eat.”

“Okay, but I like hot showers—if you put me under cold water I’m feeding you to that mutant lizard thing on the news,” you warn as he carries you off into the bathroom.

“Oh—I wouldn’t dream of it,” Satoru says. “Besides, can’t take that risk. The city needs me.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you choose to keep your sarcastic remark to yourself. Instead, you lean your head against his shoulder, letting him whisk you away.

hope you guys enjoyed as much as i enjoyed writing this!! likes and reblogs are appreciated!!!

[dilfverines]

teach me | step uncle! logan howlett x f! reader

content warnings: stepcest, drinking, cheating, virgin reader, vaginal sex, fingering, finger sucking, praise, pet names, light degradation, anal play, creampie, oral (fem receiving), cum eating, daddy kink, breeding kink (kinda)

word count: 4.3k

for @nymphomatique thank you for proofing bby <3

18+ MDNI

You were eighteen when your parents first allowed you to start dating boys, that’s how strict they were, and not much has changed in the past two years since then. The rules stayed the same: no parties, no staying out late, no smoking or drinking- typical for someone in their teens, not a young adult. As you grew you found yourself getting tired of your parents’ harsh boundaries, and you always had the nagging feeling of needing to break free, you were just never sure of how to do it, until you met him.

Logan was your dad’s older step-brother, and he had come just a little while ago to stay with you for a few weeks. You don’t really know all the details, something about his girlfriend kicking him out, you weren’t sure. Your dad had told you he didn’t really speak to Logan much, and once you met him, you understood why. The man was a douchebag to say the least. Rude, short-tempered, vulgar. Despite this, you found yourself strangely attracted to him.

The looks were definitely part of it, all dark-haired, muscular and tall, you would be a fool to not be into that- but his attitude was starting to grow on you too. You were respectful, pleasant, the opposite of everything he was. Perhaps his own nature was sparking a bit of rebellion in you the more time you spent with him, and he just never knew.

It was late when your parents had left, deciding to have a date night to themselves, leaving you and your uncle all alone in the house. You had cooked dinner, and after eating, decided to join him in the living room. The tv plays some random movie that the two of you are barely watching.

“You drink?” Logan suddenly asks, breaking the quiet between you two, his eyes still on the tv screen just ahead.

You look over to him, watching his lips around the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he takes a sip.

“No,” you shake your head. “My parents don’t let me.” It sounds silly, a grown adult who doesn't drink because their parents won’t allow them to, and the little chuckle Logan lets out confirms what you’re thinking.

“Who gives a fuck about what they think?” he dismisses.

“I do,” you respond with a slight frown.

Logan finally looks at you, and scoffs after a moment of silence. “You don’t have to listen to them, you know?” He takes another sip of beer. “You’re what- twenty? Maybe it’s about time to start thinking for yourself.”

You shrug. “Maybe… I just-” You’re cut off by Logan.

“What? Afraid you’ll make them upset at you?” He asks, almost taunting you. “Scared they’ll be disappointed in their perfect little girl?” His smirk widens, and he can clearly sense the slight fear in you when you don’t respond.

“C’mon,” he urges, scooting closer to you and holding the half-drank bottle of beer in your direction. “Take a little sip.”

Your body noticeably heats up at the older mans close proximity. You look down at the bottle in front of your face, then back up at him. “I dunno,” you mutter. “Mom and dad will get mad.”

“Ah, come on.” His arm goes around your shoulder, and he feels you tense slightly. “No one’s here but us, they’re not gonna know.” Rough fingertips graze the top of your chest, just barely. He knows what he’s doing, the little look in his eyes telling you all you need to know.

He presses the bottle to your lips, and with hesitation, you take a sip. The bitter flavor passes over your tongue, and you grimace at the taste. Logan watches with amusement.

“Good girl,” he praises, pulling back the bottle just enough to let you speak once you swallow. “You don’t like it, do you?”

You shake your head, using your sleeve to wipe away the liquid that had dripped on your face. “Not really.”

Logan laughs quietly. “It’s not about the taste, baby.” He brings the bottle closer again. “It’s about the feeling it gives you.”

Half a bottle later, and you can definitely notice the feeling he was telling you about. Your brain feels a bit fuzzy, so sensitive to the alcohol you hadn’t even had a mere sip of before tonight.

“How are you feelin’?” Logan asks you, knowing damn well just how you’re feeling. He’s seen drunk people enough times to know you’re getting there.

“Mm,” you hum. “Feels funny.”

Logan smiles, amused by the sight before him. “Yeah?” His arm around you pulls you closer, to the point that you’re practically on top of him, nearly sitting on his lap. A hand snakes down to your thigh, and he gently squeezes the soft flesh there.

“I think I might know a way to make you feel even better than you already do…” His voice is low in your ear, and your already warm body flushes even deeper. His movement is slow as his touch comes up your thigh, to your hip, his fingertips dipping just under the elastic waist of your shorts.

“You’ve never been touched before, have you, baby?”

Those words make your breath stop in your chest, both out of surprise and slight embarrassment. It’s almost a shame to admit that you’ve never had sex, let alone kissed anyone at your age- but he already knows so much, no shame in admitting this to him now.

You shake your head sheepishly, your voice going soft as you answer with a meek little “no,” which makes Logans dirty grin widen a bit.

“Oh, nothin’ wrong with that.” His fingers sink lower into your shorts, making his way beneath the lace of your panties now too. “Just means I get to be your first…”

You turn your head to the side to look at him, his lips dangerously close to your own. The distance is too tempting, and you both lean in to close it, meeting halfway. He can tell you’ve never been kissed before, the way you freeze for a second before his own lips moving goad yours into doing the same. He finds it cute, and all the more arousing how inexperienced you are.

His tongue presses against your own, wet and hot, just like the cunt he finds himself rubbing his fingers against. You’re already soaked just from the kiss, and he would chuckle at that if his lips weren’t on yours at the moment. You can’t help but moan into him as he circles your untouched clit, making you spread your legs further, instinctively wanting more.

Logans lips part from yours, leaving you breathless. “You like this, don’t you? Like how uncle Logan plays with your pussy?” His voice is low and deep in your ear when he says it, nipping at your neck with his teeth. You can only respond with breathless moans. A stuttered little “yes” leaves you.

“Mm,” he grunts against your soft skin. “Good. Such a good girl, letting me touch you like this.” You could almost cum just from his filthy praises.

Your panties are soaked through at this point, a wet spot on your shorts being the embarrassing sign of your arousal, and Logan is eating it up. You, young and innocent, ripe for the taking. He feels so incredibly lucky to have you like this.

Logan's fingers continue to rub your clit, just at the perfect pace so as to not overwhelm you. His face is buried into your neck, sucking and leaving marks that he’s sure will bruise. You’ll have fun explaining that to your parents tomorrow.

He knows when you’re close, when you start to whine like a puppy more and more, when your hips start to twitch ever so slightly, when your hand tries to desperately wrap around the thick of his wrist. You’re just about to tip over the edge, gripping him so tightly, when he stops.

“You think I’m gonna let this end that quickly?” He asks, voice low in your ear. He gives your cunt a light slap, making you whimper, before he pulls his hand from your shorts. “I wanna take my time with you. Lay down and take off your shorts.”

You’re a bit frustrated that he didn’t let you cum first, but you find yourself obeying his orders, too needy now to even think twice about the fact that you’re doing all this with your dad’s step-brother. You lie back on the couch, and Logan is quick to slot himself between your spread legs, already assisting you in pulling your shorts off. He tosses them along with your panties, forgotten in the corner of the room somewhere and leaving you bare for his eyes to take in. You’re a sight to see, he thinks- his step-niece all laid out for him, ready to be taken. He almost growls at the thought.

His hands are quick in working off his own belt, undoing his pants and hastily shoving them down his strong thighs. Out comes the thick length of his cock, sprouting from a bush of dark pubic hair, and your eyes go wide at the sight. You had never seen one in person before, but you were certain his would be considered big- way too big. It’s long, girthy with a couple veins coming up to the uncut tip.

Logan seems to notice the sudden unease in your demeanor, and your eyes finally meet his again when he speaks. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure it fits. pretty doll.” His smile would be more reassuring if not for the perverse way he looks at you.

He brings a hand between your legs, rubbing his calloused fingertips through your slick folds, feeling how incredibly soaked you are for him before he pushes two fingers inside you. You let out a breath at the stretch, an unfamiliar feeling. You had fingered yourself before, but Logans fingers were much thicker and longer compared to your own slender ones. He starts to push them in and out, climbing on top of you and coming closer as he does.

Your lips meet, the kiss initiated by you this time. Perhaps the alcohol in your system has you getting a bit confident, but Logan quickly reminds you of who’s in charge of this whole situation when he brings his free hand up to give you a light slap on your hip, making you whimper into his mouth. The same hand then moves up your body, pulling your shirt up past your chest before Logan roughly gropes one of your breasts. Two fingers pinch at the hardened bud of your sensitive nipple, a muffled moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

His fingers seem to speed up, plunging in and out quickly, until he pushes them in deep one last time before pulling them out. A string of saliva connects you two, the evidence of your messy kiss when he pulls away. You’re left panting afterwards, your breath hitching when Logan suddenly grabs your face, clearly not trying to hurt you but not being gentle either as he squishes your cheeks with one hand while making you look up at him.

Before you are his fingers, soaked with your essence, which he pushes slowly between your glossy lips. If you weren’t a bit buzzed at the moment, you’d push his hand away and gag at what you’re currently doing, but you don’t. Logan watches, pleased as your eyes seem to relax and your stiff jaw goes slack.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Good…” You suck your slick off his fingers, the taste slightly salty yet bitter, something you can’t quite put your finger on. The last thing you thought you’d ever do was taste yourself on someone else’s fingers, but here you are. Rough fingertips press down on your tongue, making you gag just a bit, before they slip out of your mouth, and a chuckle leaves Logan.

“Didn’t think you’d be such a nasty little thing so quickly.” He gives a soft pat to your cheek. “Couldn’t even get my girl back home to do that.” You try to ignore that, reminded that the man you’re about to lose your virginity to has a girlfriend. He really is a dick.

“C’mon,” Logan says, big hands reaching for your hips. “Turn over, yeah?” You do as he says, allowing him to help you get adjusted in your new position on your arms and knees on the couch, legs spread with your back arched. As soon as you get settled, Logan takes the opportunity to admire the view from behind, a bit of a smirk gracing his rugged features at the sight of his little niece all bent over and spread out for him.

He mutters a soft “damn” as his hands grip the soft flesh of your hips, closing in on you to the point you can feel his body heat on your skin and the head of his stiff cock pressing against your thigh.

“Nice ass you got here, girl.” He gives a soft slap to your left ass cheek with his compliment, snickering a little as he does so and admiring the way the flesh jiggles from the force of his hand.

You glance over your shoulder, watching with anticipation as he keeps one hand on your hip while the other wraps around his swollen cock, giving it a few pumps. He brings himself closer to you, rubbing the pinkish tip through your slicked up folds with a soft sigh at how wet you are. He makes sure to focus on your clit, swiping the sticky slit against that swollen nub just enough to make you twitch slightly with pleasure, before he glides back to your opening. Logan presses himself against you, not enough to slide in, but enough so you can feel it. You tense, and he notices.

“It’s ok,” he assures, tone soft as he seems to try to genuinely comfort you to the best of his ability. He was never good at being nice. His hand on your hip squeezes slightly, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin. “You’ll tell me if it hurts, won’t you, baby?”

You nod, taking in a breath. “Yeah…”

His lips curl into a smile. “Good girl.” Logan moves in so his chest is pressed to your back, his warmth slightly distracting you from the feeling of your heart pounding nervously in your chest. Your hands cling on to the couch cushions, your breath hitching as he presses in, the thick tip sinking just past the tight little opening.

You whimper, and he shushes you, kissing at one of the pink marks that’s just starting to bruise on your neck. He pushes in further, slowly but you feel as though you’re ripping apart when the thin membrane of your hymen stretches and tears. You bite down hard on your lip, stifling back any pained sounds as Logans hips still when he’s halfway in.

“You ok, pretty?” He asks, a low whisper against your ear. “Yeah, ‘m ok, Uncle Lo.” His lips press against your cheek, a way to show you he cares, at least a little bit. For him being so mean all the time, he’s somewhat gentle with you.

He starts to move his hips again, pushing into you more and more, inch by inch. You bite down on your lip, so hard you swear it might bleed. Your hands grip the throw pillow you’ve decided to cling on to. He’s so thick you think he might just split you in two when he’s fully sheathed, all the way inside you. He stills again, not wanting to overwhelm you and letting you adjust to his size for a moment, despite how much he’d love to just lose control and start pounding you into oblivion. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a monster.

His hand goes from your hip to the small of your waist, giving the soft curve a comforting squeeze. “Feel ok? Ya ready for me to move?” You nod, the discomfort fading into a desperate need for more. “Please.”

Logan seems pleased to hear you so eager for him, a low growl leaving his lips. He pulls his hips back, only to push himself inside you with a bit of force, making your body jolt forward slightly. The motion of his hips repeats, in and out, back and forth, until he sets a steady and slow paced rhythm for now.

He’s starting to feel it now, the way your virgin hole is wrapped so tightly around his cock. “Fuck,” he grunts, breath hot and moist against your skin. “Never would’ve guessed my little niece would have such a tight cunt.” Logan feels the way you seem to squeeze him even tighter for just a moment when he says it, and an amused yet dirty grin crosses his lips.

“You like that, don’t you?” His thrusts speed up, going harder. “Like uncle Lo tellin’ you what a tight little pussy you’ve got?” You just whine, unable to say anything when you can already feel your brain going numb at just how good his big cock feels ramming into you- but clearly your lack of a response doesn’t suffice for him. A firm slap lands on your rear, making you squeal, before the same hand comes up to grab your hair at the scalp.

“Answer me,” he growls. You would be surprised at how suddenly rough he’s being with you if you weren’t so into it. “N-nnh- Y-yes, Logan,” you answer meekly. “Fuckin’ love it so much.” Logan grins. He’s never heard you swear before.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, his voice low and barely audible above the ‘plap’ sound of his tanned flesh meeting yours. “Gonna turn you into such a perfect slut for me.” His promise seeps into your brain. You can feel it, your body and mind melting, molding perfectly into being his and his alone.

Logan sits up properly on his knees, no longer with his sweaty chest pressed into you as he continues to pound into you with rough and intense vigor. You can’t see what’s happening behind you, but you can feel when he suddenly grips your ass. He squeezes and spreads the round globes of your cheeks, eyeing the little hole hidden between. A dirty looking grin crosses his face, one like no other.

“Cute,” he murmurs. You’re not sure what’s happening, what he’s doing, but you know you feel suddenly more conscious in the moment, just when he presses the tip of his thumb into the tight ring of your ass. A gasp leaves your parted lips, the feeling foreign and so incredibly dirty. “Nice and tight too. Maybe I’ll fuck this hole next time.”

Humiliated is the one word you could think to describe what you’re feeling. Logan can sense it too, and it gives him a sort of sick satisfaction to know that he’s doing this to you, that he’s corrupting you like this. He decides to take it a step further when he speaks next.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya’, baby?”

You could almost cry, lip quivering. But you can’t deny it. “Y-yes, uncle Lo.” Pathetic, he thinks. “Hmm,” he hums, sinking his thumb slightly deeper, feeling the strong grip you have around his finger, just before pulling it out. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then.”

He gives your ass a hard slap, making you whine pitifully before his grip returns to your waist. “God, ‘m gonna fill this pussy up soon,” he mutters low beneath his breath, but loud enough for you to hear. You should be freaked out by that, you know. You can’t be having anyone’s babies at this age, especially not your much older step-uncles babies- but you can’t bring yourself to feel anything other than a thrill at the thought.

“Please, Logan,” you plead. “Give me your cum. Need it so bad.” Logan could bust just hearing that sweet voice of yours begging for it, sounding like the call of the purest of angels. He’s unsure if he’s died and gone up to Heaven or not.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it, baby.” He comes down so his chest is to your back again, and his strong arm wraps around your neck instantaneously, being careful not to hurt you. His thrusts speed up, pounding into you harder than previous. You moan loud, an almost choked sound when his cock head hits your cervix, hard and deep. “Gonna make sure you’re full to the brim.”

It’s not long before Logan fulfills that promise. A few more pumps of his hips against yours, his bicep bulging against your throat when his arm tightens around your delicate neck, and you feel it. ”Fuck-” A low grunt escapes his thin lips, burying himself as deep as he can inside the tightness of your cunt as a torrent of hot cum floods your insides. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling, trying to squirm away, but Logan keeps you there with his body pinning you to the couch.

“Not gettin’ away from me,” he grumbles. “Let your uncle breed you like you need.” He gives one final, deep slam into you, ensuring that his seed stays planted in your womb before he slips out with a hiss.

You collapse on the couch, body hot and exhausted, but Logan isn’t done with you. His hands grab at your waist, trying to pull you back. You quickly peer over your shoulder, watching as he gets down between your legs, maneuvering your hips to be lifted off the couch again.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Logan’s eyes meet yours when he hears your question. “Lady’s gotta cum too, yeah?” He doesn’t give you any time to answer before his lips meet with your used cunt. A gasp leaves you, a sound of surprise and pleasure. His skilled tongue licks a long stripe from your clit to the end of your slit, going back up and sucking on the sensitive nub and making you squeal with delight.

His tongue laps at your hole, eating the filthy mixture of his cum and your juices from out of you, soaking his stubbled chin. It’s clear he’s done this before, having no problem with doing such a nasty thing.

Your hand reaches back, taking grip of his dark brown locks, styled neatly with gel until your fingers get ahold of it. Your hips push back against his face, and he happily takes it, letting out a muffled growl into your pussy as his hands squeeze the soft flesh of your thighs tighter. He starts to eat you out faster, with more vigor, desperate to get you to your peak, and you can feel it approaching.

“O-oh-” Your fingers nearly dig into his scalp, holding him impossibly tighter, as close to you as you can get him. “Fuck. Feels so good, daddy.” Logan grins against your cunt. Never in a million years did he think he’d hear that coming from you, but he just did. You weren’t sure why you said it either, it just came to you. You’d heard it used in porn a few times, and this seemed to fit the sort of situation you’d see in one of those videos. Perhaps it was just instinct.

Your hips tremble, grinding back against Logan’s aged face. The heat in your belly pools, hot like fire before it hits you. You practically scream. “L-Logan!” If you weren’t home alone he would’ve shoved the throw pillow into your face to shut you up real quick, but thankfully, he’s able to relish in your pretty sounds just the way he’d like to.

He sucks harder on your clit as you cum on his face, grinding against his face wildly, and he lets you- because what kind of man would he be if he didn’t? It seems to be over just as quick as it happened, to you at least, and you’re left panting, head spinning as he pulls back.

Logan gets up, coming to stand in front of you. He reaches out, grabbing you by your jaw and guiding your head so you’re facing him. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip. He clearly wants you to open your mouth, and you do, sticking your tongue out. Logan leans down, and spits the mixture of his cum and your own right on to the center of your tongue. You retch at first, but Logan closes your mouth. “That’s it,” he urges, giving your face a soft pat. “Swallow it.” You do, with a bit of reluctance, letting the salty taste run down your throat with a shiver going up your spine.

“Good job,” he praises, ruffling the top of your head before he turns away, leaving you on the couch, numb and soaked in your own sweat.

It’s quiet for a while, you sitting there collecting your thoughts. processing what all has just happened, until Logan breaks the silence.

“So, daddy, huh?” He asks with a smirk as he pulls his pants back on, and you scoff.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“Now who said that?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he clasps the buckle on his belt. “Just wondering where such a sweet lil’ thing like you got the nerve to say something like that.”

You shrug. You weren’t really sure either.

“Maybe you’re already rubbing off on me.” Your eyes meet his, a little smile cracking your previously tired expression.

Logan can’t help but grin at that. You’re cute, he thinks. He’s not a very sappy guy, but damn if he could just see you like this all the time- all soft and pretty after he’s just had his way with you, all his.

He nods his head, agreeing with you.

“Just maybe I am.”

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only

Carter could hear his car approaching before it even came into view.

She had been grounded for two weeks, caught out with Topper on his granddad’s boat past curfew, and she had never been more bored in her life. Slumped back on the couch, she dipped her hand in the bag to grab another chip, pausing mid-bite when she heard the familiar hum of Rafe’s truck engine growl down the street.

“Oh fuck no,” she hopped off the couch, a trail of crumbs in her wake as she jogged to the front door. 

Though she knew you were away for the afternoon, your mom taking you to tour a local college on the mainland, she instinctively double checked that your car was still gone. She was thankful you weren’t here to see him in his oversized ego-mobile zipping down your street like he owned it.

You’d been devastated all week, crying yourself to sleep in the wake of seeing Rafe kiss Cassie Bryant. Nothing made Carter angrier than knowing you were hurt and not being able to do anything about it. 

She couldn’t believe his nerve to show up here. He’d been texting to you all week, clearly not taking your lack of response for the answer that it was. You were finally finding the strength to stay away from him, and she was not about to let that unravel.

She stood on the front porch, closing the door firmly behind her, arms crossed and stance wide like she was prepared to defend her castle. Really, she was prepared to defend you.

Rafe parallel parked on the street, some misogynistic country song blaring from his subwoofers. Carter rolled her eyes at the way his massive truck took up enough space for two cars, always claiming what wasn’t his, taking and taking and giving nothing in return.

Closing the driver’s door with a bang, Rafe hopped down from his truck and strolled toward the house, stopping short in the front walk when he noticed Carter glaring out at him.

“You have some fucking nerve, Cameron,” she spat at him.

“I’m not here for you,” he glared back.

“Well no one else in this house wants to talk to your ass right now so you can go ahead and turn right back around.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just wanna know why she wasn’t at my game today.”

“Uh-oh,” she tilted her head in mock-sympathy, “did ya lose?”

He clenched his jaw, an angry huff of air flaring his nostrils, “yeah, we lost.”

“Good.”

“Can you just let me in?” He started moving toward the front steps, but she didn’t move from her spot blocking the door. “I need to talk to her and she’s not answering my texts.”

“Do you think that’s an accident?” She scoffed. “Take a hint.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking problem, Carter?” He snapped the sentence off with a bite of her name.

“You’re my problem, Rafe,” she bit right back.

“What the fuck did I do? Why isn’t your sister answering my calls?”

“I dunno, maybe you should ask Cassie Bryant,” her hands uncrossed and rested on her hips.

Rafe stepped back, head dropping back in exasperation as he rolled his eyes at the sky.

“That’s what this is about? Cassie and I are just hooking up, what’s the big deal?”

“You mean besides the fact that Cassie’s made my sister’s life hell since they were in the same Kindergarten class?” She threw at him. “Or that you’ve been dragging my sister along since she was six years old just to ditch her for some wannabe Addison Rae tiktok flop?”

“God, you’re always so fucking dramatic, it isn’t even like that,” he gestured toward the window of your bedroom, still assuming you were up there somewhere avoiding him, “your sister knows we’re cool.”

“You’re not cool, Rafe. You’re an idiot,” she told him with a pitying shake of her head. 

Rafe turned her words over in his head, finally stopping long enough to consider the possibility that he’d done more damage than he initially thought.

“Is she really mad at me?” He mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Carter sighed, “No. She’s not mad at you. She’s never mad at you, that’s the problem. You don’t make her mad, you make her sad. All you ever do is make her sad.”

Shoulders falling, Rafe looked past Carter with a vacant stare. He looked so confused and distraught she almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

“I didn’t mean to make her sad,” he mumbled, almost at a whisper.

Carter scanned him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if his penance was sincere. He looked down at his shoes, digging the tip of one into the stony walkway.

“How do I fix it?”

Carter started to think maybe he was sincere after all, but she still wasn’t sure he was in any place to be asking for advice.

“I don’t know if you can,” she told him.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said hopefully, trying to console himself. “She’ll come around.”

He looked at Carter like he was actually expecting her to agree.

“And then what, Rafe?” She tilted her head, genuinely curious about the answer. “What’s the end game here? You’ll just make her sad for a few more months and then go off to school and…what?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged defensively. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Exactly. You don’t think things through. That’s always been your problem,” she informed him, “you just do what you want and pay no attention to how it affects other people. If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t keep putting her through the same shit over and over.”

“I do care about her,” he mumbled, her words beginning to penetrate his carefully constructed antagonistic armor.

“I wish I could believe that,” she shook her head sadly, “I wish she could believe that. At least when she did, she wasn’t crying herself to sleep every night.”

Sour regret burned in his throat at the thought of your tears dripping onto your pillowcase, some unfamiliar heartache he didn’t understand. 

“Maybe you could convince her that I do,” he offered, “she listens to you.”

“Why would I do that?” Carter snapped.

“Because then she wouldn’t be so sad,” his voice was so feeble it was like he was shrinking right before her eyes, his tall, intimidating frame so small and inadequate under the towering shadow of his guilt.

“Tell you what Rafe,” she began, “I’ll try and convince her that you care about her if you can look me in the eyes and tell me with your whole chest that you won’t hurt her anymore, that you won’t use her to your advantage, or drop off the face of the earth for weeks not answering her texts, or kiss other girls right in front of her face. That you’ll fight for her and put her before your own selfish bullshit. Can you make that promise?”

He wrung his hands, mindlessly adjusting the ring on his right forefinger, jaw clenched as he tried to will forth a convincing enough yes. He couldn’t do it.

“That’s what I thought,” Carter said. “If you can’t fight for her, then…”

“What?” He asked desperately, hoping she’d offer him some olive branch shaped way out of the  shame engulfing his chest.

“Then I am asking you- begging you really - to let her go. Stop texting, stop coming by the house, stop making promises you’re not gonna keep. Please. If not for me, then for her.”

“Do you think that’s what she wants?” He asked.

“No. But I think it’s what she needs,” she said, knowing it would kill you if you knew she was doing this, but believing with her whole heart that it was right.

Rafe rarely thought about the future. The farthest his mind went was the next few minutes in front of him. It was his fatal flaw, acting for the moment and not for the moment after, or the version of himself that would face the consequences of his poor choices. Yet, in this moment, he had the keen sense that his next move would be a pivotal one, the gravity of it making his feet feel heavy on the stone pathway. He could stay, he could argue, scream your name until you came out and talked to him. But then what? Would he have the courage to follow through? Was he enough of a man to handle the weight of your expectation?

Ultimately, he knew the right thing was to stay and fight, but the easy thing would be to just go.

So, as he almost always did, Rafe made the easy choice.

“Okay,” he nodded to Carter. “I’ll let her go.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice shaking with the fear that if you knew what she just convinced him to do, you’d never forgive her. 

“I’m not doing it for you,” he made sure she knew before turning and climbing back into his truck.

Once in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, looking at your name in his contacts. Like his fingers were moving without his mind’s permission, he deleted you. It didn’t matter really, he thought, he’d remember your number on his deathbed. He’d remember it all, and he’d hate himself forever for driving away.

Carter stayed on the porch, watching him go, praying desperately that you’d never find out she was the reason he left.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

“We’re gonna have to go back eventually,” you said.

Rafe sat behind you in the sand, holding you with his chin resting easy on your shoulder as you took in the sprawling pink sunrise together. 

“Says who?” He countered.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. His eyelids were heavy, purple under the eyes from the exhaustion of being awake all night.

“You’re falling asleep,” you noticed.

“Yeah because some girl kept me up all night, begging me to take her to the beach and kiss her,” he joked.

“Excuse me, sir, this was your idea!” You sat up and stretched, your words making him laugh despite his immediate discomfort at the loss of your body in his arms. “What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “my phone’s in the car.”

“Mine too,” you chuckled, “I hope Carter’s okay. She was looking rough before we left.”

He had half a mind to propose the two of you never leave the beach, but he could hear the genuine concern under your lighthearted words. He stood from the sand and dusted himself off, reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet. You took it with a smile, lingering for a moment as you stood, your hand in his, taking one last look around the beach, searching for some kind of landmark.

“What are you looking for?” He asked.

“I just want to remember exactly where we were,” you explained.

“Why, you wanna recreate it?” He smiled softly at you.

“Oh, I plan to recreate it many times,” you wink at him.

It took all his strength to leave that spot and head back to the car, back to the house full of people who weren’t you, back to reality.

“I can drive,” he suggested, planning to take the slowest route possible, and actually follow the speed limit for the first time in his life.

As soon as he started the car up, your CD started blasting through the speakers. You laughed at each other, the catalyst of this whole encounter feeling like it was days ago. The time on the car radio told you it’d only been about two hours. You lifted your phone but the screen remained black.

“Shit, it’s dead,” you told him, opening the glovebox and digging around for a charger.

While you were distracted, Rafe lifted his own phone from the cupholder he’d left it in. His screen did light up, displaying a slew of frantic texts from Topper and Kelce. He winced, wishing he hadn’t looked. He didn’t read the texts, not wanting whatever nonsense they were bothering him with to pop the blissful bubble wrapped around the two of you. He knew he shouldn’t start off your new…whatever this was…by lying to you, but he needed to stay in this happy place just a little longer.

“Mine’s dead too,” he lied, flipping the phone over in the cup holder to hide the screen.

“Of course Carter doesn’t have a charger,” you sighed, “she has like twenty hair ties and lipglosses, but no charger. Classic.”

“I know my way back,” he shrugged, “we’ll be good.”

Rafe put the car in reverse, backing out of the little side road with his arm on the seat next to your head. You watched the way he turned in his seat to look out the back window, neck muscles flexing with the stretch and his big hand manipulating the steering wheel with ease. 

For the first time in the sixteen years you’d known him, you didn’t try to hide your gaze as you took him in. The same attraction that used to make you feel skittish and ashamed now settled over you peacefully, like an icy winter finally melting into a warm, bright spring. You looked at him all you wanted, noting every detail, taking mental photographs of every inch of his skin.

You’d always thought he was cute - actually, no, you always thought he was hot as fuck - but now for the first time, you allowed yourself to look long enough to notice how beautiful he was. Pins and needles burst out all over your body as you realized how badly you needed to kiss him again.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him as he drove, choosing not to say anything and risk you looking away. He felt at home in your gaze, happier than he could ever remember being.

Inhibitions left back on the beach, you fearlessly reached out toward him, hand grazing gently over his jaw. You loved the ticklish little stubble that had grown there in just a few days without shaving. You smiled as you thought about the boy who could barely grow peach fuzz, now a man, strong and solid under your fingertips. Something warm and electric buzzed in your stomach, and you knew Rafe could feel it too, his skin heating under your tender touch.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road but leaning slightly into your hand to encourage you to keep touching him.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “I’ve just never gotten to look at you this long.”

“Is it making you change your mind?” He smirked, clearly not worried about the answer, his confidence making him impossibly sexier.

“Just the opposite,” you confirmed, “I think you’re always gonna have to drive from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well now that I’ve gotten a good look I don’t think I could keep my eyes on the road. I always had the hardest time not looking over at you.”

Rafe grinned wide as your hand slipped from his jaw to the back of his head, fingers lacing in his soft hair, scratching his scalp lovingly. There was no rhyme or reason to your movements, but you didn’t care, you just needed your hands on him. He didn’t seem to mind, head leaning back into your palm to let you know he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I know you did,” he said.

“How?” You asked.

“Because I could never keep myself from looking over at you,” he confessed.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered their way through your chest. Now you were certain- you’d never been more attracted to anyone as you were to him in this moment.

Rafe took your silent smile as a good sign, “did I get another A with that line?”

Your hand slid slowly down to his shoulder, over the ridges and ripples of his arms, flexing under your soft touch, until you found his hand, pulling it into your own. 

“Gold stars, baby,” you smiled.

Rafe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the air in the car becoming thicker by the second as he shifted in his seat. You beamed at him, realizing with a flurry of excitement - you had Rafe Cameron flustered.

“You like when I call you baby?” You purred, eager to see how far you could push it.

His grip tightened around your hand, “you can’t say shit like that to me when I’m driving.”

You could feel the dam breaking. You needed him. Now.

“Then pull over.”

He finally took his eyes off the road for a second at that, looking over at you for confirmation; are you serious? You gave him a steely, lustful look in return; as a heart attack.

Rafe practically popped a tire turning the wheel hard and pulling the car down a side street, driving until he found a little secluded enclave by the beach, a perfectly private spot. He threw the car in park, making you laugh at the jolt it gave with his urgency. He didn’t waste a second, reaching both hands over to grab your face and pull your lips to his.

You sighed into his mouth, no hesitancy holding you back from slipping your tongue between his lips. He pulled away just long enough to grit out a raspy, “come here,” before throwing his seatbelt off.

You unbuckled your own, holding tight to his shoulders as you swung your leg over the console and climbed, somewhat awkwardly, into his lap. Your head fell back in laughter as your butt accidentally pressed the horn, the sound blasting through the quiet morning air. Rafe laughed too, easing your slight embarrassment as he reached down to slide the seat back.

Once you had more room, you pulled back to get a better look at him. He looked up at you with wide blue eyes, so gentle and kind in the way they took you in. Rafe reached up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, taking a deep breath as his hands grazed your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered to fill the silence.

You cracked the slightest smile, unable to repress your amusement.

“What?” He puzzled.

“I just didn’t imagine you to be so…sweet like this,” you explained, though you hated how the words sounded coming out of your mouth, afraid it would sound like a criticism and cause him to withdraw.

“Only for you,” he said.

“Uh oh,” you teased, hands laying flat over his chest as you leaned forward, relieved you hadn’t ruined the moment after all, “is big bad Rafe Cameron going weak for me?”

“He always has been,” he nodded, his dimples creasing his cheeks with his sheepish smile.

You slid your hands up to either side of his face, thumbs dipping into his dimples. You’d always wanted to do that. You couldn’t believe that after all that waiting and longing, you really could just lean forward and kiss him if you wanted to. 

So you did, like you were trying to prove to yourself that this was actually real. The second your lips met his, you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips as he sat up off the seat just slightly to meet your mouth fervently. You bent over him, your hair falling in a curtain around his face. His hands felt so good, so right, warm and strong against you. You smiled into the kiss as you could feel them sliding so slowly, reverently, over your curves, until they found a home on your lower back, bringing you forward to rest fully against him. It was the same gentle control he had taken on the jetski, and it was addictive.

He was hard, you could feel him firm beneath you, and your head flooded with lustful thoughts. You rolled your body just slightly against him, but he felt every second of it, his hands sliding lower until he was kneading the flesh of your ass. Breathless, you paused, forehead against, another roll of your body as you pressed into him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He breathed, chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

“No, don’t, I’ve wanted this for so long,” it came out more desperate than you planned, but you didn’t care, you needed him to know.

“Me too, kid, you have no idea,” he smiled.

Your nose scrunched, pulling back to look at him with narrow eyes, “kid? Really?”

“Well you don’t like when I call you baby, so…”

“That is not what I said,” you laughed, “I said don’t say things you don’t mean. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you mean it”

“In that case…” he leaned in again, hands on either side of your face as his lips met yours before pulling away to meet your eyes as he said, “hey baby.”

You melted into him, his hands cradling your head the only thing keeping you grounded to the planet. He littered your face and jaw with slow, deliberate kisses, working his way toward your neck as he whispered more sweet pet names into your skin.

“Beautiful,” with a kiss to your jaw, “angel,” with a kiss to your neck, just below your ear, “my girl,” with a kiss to your collarbone, lingering to suck on the skin right at the base of your neck, marking you lightly.

Your whole body pulled him in tighter, dizzy with the ecstasy of having him like this. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just hard enough to tell him how good he was making you feel. You couldn’t resist but push down into his hardness, muscles tense as his lips tickled the sensitive skin around the collar of your shirt.

“Rafe…” you sighed out as he continued to suck lip shaped marks into you, his hands kneading your ass, arms strong around you like he alone was the one keeping you tethered to the earth.

He pulled away from you just far enough to look you in the eyes, his pupils blown out. There was a kind of darkness in his eyes, sending excitement, and maybe even a touch of fear, shooting through your body. You wondered what would happen if he dropped the gentleness and really seized control, longing to be the one to send him to that place.

“Are you?” He whispered. Hunger, lust, and some more vulnerable third thing laced the deep tenor of his voice as his eyes searched yours, “are you my girl?”

His brows were furrowed so tight with intensity, you worried he was gonna give himself a headache. 

You ran your thumb over the scrunched skin on his forehead, smoothing it out, gentle but firm. You continued to run your fingers over his face, both to put him at ease and to buy yourself time, the answer to his question stuck somewhere in your chest, unwilling or unable to make its way to your tongue.

“I…” you started, the worry growing back on his face at the sound of your hesitation.

Before you could finish the thought, a loud DING! rang out through the quiet car, making you both jump.

“I thought you said your phone was dead?” You questioned, more edge to your tone than you’d meant, frustration over the interruption seeping into your words.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just wanted more time with you.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a bit non-committal in your forgiveness. “Who is it?”

Rafe sighed as he retrieved his phone from the cupholder, reading the most recent message.

“It’s Top,” he answered, “he’s saying we should get back to the house but won’t say why. So dramatic.”

You chuckled softly, relief washing through Rafe at the return of your smile.

“We should probably go then,” you said, “if for no other reason than I’m nosy and want to know what’s going on.”

He nodded slowly, hands reluctantly letting you go “we’ll come back to this, though, right?”

You knew he meant more than just the kiss and your intimate position in Carter’s front seat. He meant this; the big ‘What Are We?’

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he’d be the one posing the question, or that you’d have this hard of a time coming up with the answer.

(Chapter 8: part two)

a/n: entering my 'posting what's ready when it's ready and not caring about word count' era, welcome!!

please note, i've closed the taglist for this story. to be first to know when i post please follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifications 💘

[furioussouls]

LADS guys as yanderes

[chubby reader]

Warning: yandere behaviour (soft, but yandere behaviour nonetheless), fem! chubby reader, manipulation, suggestive themes, reader is mc (in some parts), mentions of injuries (not through the boys), I'm not romanticising or condoning yandere behaviour in real life

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they are from a game called "love and deepspace", which was created by Infold. Any lore refrences and worldbuilding belong solely to them.

˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ˚୨୧⋆

Zayne:

• Zayne would be the overprotective and overbearing yandere. He is so furiously obsessed with your health and monitors it all to an unhealthy degree. You would not notice it at first, because he'll hide it extremely well from you and always hides behind his icy facade, but once it clicks in your head, its impossible to unsee.

You sat in front of Dr. Zayne in his office, the pungent odor of disinfectant lingering in the air as your plush thighs sat firmly on top the familiar chair. "Excuse me, Dr. Zayne? I am very thankful for your care, but I can't drop out of my missions every other day for routine check- ups. Is there a reason why you keep telling me to come back?". Zayne flexed his long, slender and scarred fingers and pushed his glasses closer to his face. He firmly starred at the screen of your medical scan and compared it with the one he took of you last week. "Do we have to wait for it to get worse in order for me to take care of your health? Your heart could get worse in the blink of an eye.", his voice rang out. You sighed and watched Zayne obsessively click from one picture to the next without blinking.

• After a mission gone wrong, you informed Zayne that you would arrive at the hospital shortly. You sighed and limped through the doors of the hospital. You were alright, your injuries not too grave, but you weren't quite sure if you had any internal injuries. You knocked on Zayne's office and walked through it. Zayn was hunched over, his hands buried tightly in his hair. When the door shut behind you, he jumped up with shaky hands. Before you could ask him whats wrong, he took long steps toward and scanned your injuries from top to bottom. His large hands pat down your body. "Where are your injuries?", before you could respond, he had hastily already taken off your shirt and shoved you down on the examination table and poked and prodded every part of your ample torso. You squealed "Dr. Zayne! I'm fine. My leg is the only thing that's injured.", he paid you no mind and continued to examine you while breathing heavily.

• After you two started dating, you felt like you were in paradise. Zayne was the biggest gentleman you've ever met. He helped you get dressed in the morning, tied your shoelaces, cooked for you, did the chores at home and walked on the outer side of the sidewalk. Sure, he was a bit annoying with his constant health examinations, but that can easily be ignored. Alright, maybe it's also annoying that he wants to know your location at all times, but it seriously has nothing to do with him not trusting you. He's just scared that you'll need his help and he won't know where you are. Zayne bounced his leg up and down and loosened the tie around his neck. His pulse quickened as he stared at his phone. 'My love, where are you? Should I come and pick you up?', why haven't you responded yet? Are you okay? Is your heart okay? Zayne's mind was racing and he thought about you, his perfect little love, passed out in some alleyway. He jumped up and made move to grab his jacket when his phone alerted him of your new message. 'Hi Zayne, I'll be home soon! I'll get us some ice cream.'

• he hopes you'll quit your job, so that you wont go on these dangerous missions anymore. He'll take care of you, you won't have to move a muscle. You also wouldn't have to do chores or anything, please just stay home.

• If you talk with him about his behaviour and tell him to tone it down a notch, he'll apologise profusely and tell you that he'll be more mindful, but his behaviour only grows more obsessive. He'll hide it from you, but his heart breaks whenever you do anything that could endanger you and he switches to a different type of surveillance. Sometimes he‘ll also give you “doctors orders“ on how you need to rest for a week if a dangerous mission pops up.

Xavier:

•Xavier is the possessive, jealous yandere. He's the wolf hidden beneath a fluffy, wooly facade.

You made your way to your apartment with grocery bags in your hand. When you reached your old, sturdy door, you heard a familiar soft voice behind you. "Who were you just talking to?". You spun around quickly and saw Xavier's soft smile behind you. You smiled at him and he bent down to take the grocery bags out of your soft hand. You smiled in gratitude and unlocked the door. He put the bags down on the table and began taking everything out of your bags. "Hm?", he asked and you looked at him in confusion. "Who was the man you were talking with earlier?", he repeated softly. You informed Xavier that he was your guys' new neighbour. Xavier nodded and walked slowly over to you. He wrapped his arms around your wide hips and gently gripped the fat of your back. "Is he nice? Nicer than me?", he asked softly and you rolled your eyes. "No, Xavier. Don't be jealous, again." He nodded and tenderly kissed your squishy cheeks.

• If he saw anybody he deemed a threat, he would take care of it. Quietly and without your knowledge. He wouldn't hurt or kill anyone, (unless they've hurt you in some way) but he would make sure that they would never be around you, ever again. If some girl had been gossiping about your weight like an insecure middle schooler? Suddenly she had to move cities. Somebody is standing in the way of your promotion? They were just relocated to a different place. Hmm, suspicious.

• he would never lay a hand on you. Ever. none of the guys would, They all adore and worship you too much.

•Xavier is lowkey like a kitten. If you scratch at his scalp and play with his hair, he'll lean into your touch and moan softly. He will happily lay down on your big thighs and sleep the whole day ever. Also, has a bite kink-, who said that?

• loves to go to sleep on top of you because you cannot leave while hes sleeping on top of you. He cuddles up on your chest and wraps his arms around you and kneads you like a stress ball, all of his troubles disappear when your comforting smell on body are underneath him. If both of you sat on the couch, he’d make sure that his lanky body is touching your plump one in any way possible. Sitting side pressed against side? Hell yeah. Sitting with your legs on his lap? Perfect. You sitting on his lap or him sitting on yours? Genuinely amazing. He’s happy.

• Sometimes, when somebody else would try and tell you that he's not as sweet as you think he is, he'll look at you with a hurt expression. You don't believe them, do you? Why would he lie to you? Who can be purer than him? His evol is light, after all. He means well.

You look at Xavier's wide, glossy eyes, his lips streched into a slight frown. "I just don't know why they would say something like that about me? Have I made a wrong first impression? Is it because I’m so sleepy?". You wrapped your soft arms around Xaviers lanky body and gently swiped over his blond hair. “No, Xavier. I’m sorry that they’re saying that about you.“

He sighed happily into your shoulder and smiled. He loves you so much. Don’t leave him, okay? He‘ll find you anyway.

Rafayel:

• Rafayel is a bratty, manipulative yandere. Don't be fooled by his sweet, pouty lips. We all know not to mess with sirens, and how persuasive they can be.

• If the two of you are engaged in a conversation with somebody who shows a little too much interest in you, Rafayel turns everything they say into something negative.

"So, our company works closely with the animal shelters in Linkon.", the sleazy business man told you with a bright smile as his eyes scanned you from top to bottom. You were nodding along and fixing your dress, which seemed to accentuate every little curve of yours. Rafayel's face contorted in disgust, his beautiful, plump lips streched into a grimace. "Wait, that means you don't want to get rid off the horrible loneliness that animals go through? Is that what you're saying?".

The business man's face jaw dropped and he blinked at Rafayel. "I don't under-", Rafayel interrupted the man and gripped your hand tighter, "Well, you're saying your company depends on the poor, lonely animals being dropped off into shelters, which means if you were presented with the opportunity to give all of these animals a home, you wouldn't do it, since that's where you'd be getting your money from.", Rafayel exlaimed with a fake outrage. You raised your eyebrow at him and the business man turned on his heel and left the conversation. Rafayel's fake outrage dropped and a neutral expression bloomed on his face. "Really, Raf'?", you asked him incredulously and he shrugged and gently kissed your knuckles. “Cutie, he was annoying me!“, he exclaimed in a whiny voice.

• If anybody gets on your nerves, just tell him. He'll take care of them and you won't ever have to see them again. He doesn't understand human morals and also does not abide by them. The only thing that matters to him is that his cutie is okay and that you love him. The rest of the world could perish.

• he'll act bratty and needy so that you would touch him. He wishes that you would never stop paying attention to him. Your hands on him is the best kind of heaven that he could imagine. Just dont ignore him, he'll wither away and break down. Please stop acting all cool and just him as your own personal stress reliever /plushie!

• he wants to be the prettiest thing that you’ve ever seen. He wishes you would ogle at him or sexualise him- at least a little bit. He wants to feel wanted and loved. If you make a raunchy joke to him or reply jokingly with a “without me?“ when he tells you about his baths, he’ll act shocked and outraged but warmth spreads in his chest and if he had a cat tail, it would fluff up.

• he will paint your naked body in every position and with every sort of art media. He will never show them to anybody else, sometimes not even to you, but he prides himself on knowing your gorgeous round body inside and out and draws you in different positions, only using his memories of you. Anybody that sees these vulnerable pictures of you will be disposed of.

•If you're about to get yourself into a dangerous situation, he'll use his siren song on you. He would never use it on you in any other situation, but your well- being is the most important thing in the world to him. Everything else is secondary. He‘ll make you forget ever hearing it and he’ll use it again and again if you think he‘ll let you head off into danger.

Sylus:

• Sylus is the protective yandere, who monitors your every move. However, he'll hide it so well that most of the time you won't even notice his tendencies. Of course, you know about Mephisto, but he also wasn’t trying to hide Mephisto from you.

“Can you believe he would do that? Ugh! It’s so annoying, I’ve been working my ass off for this job, and he just ruined it all in one second!“, you complained to Sylus, your soft cheeks wet with your own tears.

“I‘m sorry, sweetie. You worked so hard for this. I can’t believe he would ruin it for you.“, Sylus said with his deep and husky voice. He gently wiped your tears away and you sniffed. His big hand gently smoothed over your head and he gently pushed your head into his chest. Sylus looked over your shoulder to Kieran and Luke and nodded at them.

Both of them left quietly and made sure to find the man who has hurt you. Don’t worry, they’re supposed to bring him back alive.

• He watched the cameras to your room and sighs softly. He can’t go one day without seeing you, he needs to see you at all times. You were cuddled into your bed while watching your favourite show, and so was Sylus. He scanned every part of you, basically inhaling all of your essence and his tension drained from his shoulders. You made his life better- you made it feel like life was worth living.

• if by any chance he does miss any disrespect or danger thrown your way, and you happen to tell him about it, he‘ll laugh along with you. He‘ll smirk at your story and chuckle at how happy you’re reenacting the situation, but the moment he’s alone, he‘ll find every person, who was involved in this situation and ruin them. He will either kill them or drain them of their money til they kill themselves.

“I don’t even know why he tried to fight me without backup“, you chuckled and Sylus grinned at your words. “My, my. Seems like the boxing lessons I gave you helped you tremendously, kitten.“ He teased you and gently smoothed his warm fingers over your bruised eye. Your phone rang and you excused yourself from Sylus. He nodded with a soft smile. After you left the room, Sylus‘ big grin fell and his nostrils flared. A big ball of anger spread from his chest to his arms and he clenched his hands and jaw. The name of the perpetrator echoed through his head like a drill. He picks up his phone and told Luke and Kieran that they would go out tonight.

•loves to be your personal pillow and plushie. If you want to cuddle with him gently to forget about the weight of the world for a moment? Go ahead. If you wanna take your anger out and wrestle with him, please feel free to do so, he lives and breathes to please you after all. He wants to take care of you and your mental health, and he wishes you would tell him every single thought running through your mind. But since that’s unrealistic, he‘ll settle for being your emotional and physical plush toy.

•he buys you all the clothes in your cart. You’re always shocked on how he knows your exact size and the clothes in general, since you’ve never showed them to him before.

“Oh my god, Sylus! This is exactly what I wanted. It’s so damn hard to find fat- friendly clothing. But- wait. How do you know that this is the dress I wanted?“, Sylus chuckled deeply and pointed to Mephisto. “He saw you adding it to your cart“. Mephisto definitely didn’t see you adding it to you cart. Sylus just sees everything you’re doing on your electronic devices, but he just loves you so much, dont blame him. He'd never judge you for anything on there.

Caleb:

• Caleb is the worshipper and isolating yandere. He wishes he could spend the rest of his life servicing your every wish. You’re the only thing in his life that he needs. You’re his very oxygen, the blood running through his veins. So, naturally he should treat you as well as you deserve to be treated. By himself. Alone. Nobody else loves you as much as he loves you, they wouldn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated- they couldn’t.

“Caleb“, you scolded gently when he kneeled in front of you. He laid his head down on your plump thighs and closed his eyes.

“Pipsqueak, how can I get you to quit your job, hm? There must be something that can convince you, anything at all. Please. There must be something I can do for you to stay here with me, forever.“

You sighed and gently ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a sigh of relief and pressed his face into your thighs. “I do want to stay with you, Caleb. I will not quit my job, though. I will not stay here, cooped up in your house while you’re in one dangerous mission after the other. No, no way.“

• cooks for you. Seeing you eat something that he made makes his heart beat faster. He loves everything about your expression, your happy face and your grateful praise. He feels like a puppy with a tail that's wagging too fast for its little body. That's how you make him feel. Caleb loves your praise and appreciation. He would take care of you regardless of your appreciation but he loves you so much, hearing your sweet words make him even more obsessed with you.

•he‘ll sit you on his lap and massage every inch of your ample skin. Not once inch will be untouched. He loves the smell and feel of your body on top of him. If you‘ll let him, he’ll massage your body until his hands cramp up. He‘ll do it for the rest of his life. From your cute round toes to the top of you’re pretty head. Also- he‘ll learn the perfect hair care routine for your hair type and will perform it for you. You haven’t done your own hair in such a long time.

•works out with you on his back. If he can’t carry you out of a dangerous situation, all of his workouts and muscles would be for nothing, so he’d try many different positions and with many different handicaps. Sometimes he‘ll only carry your weight with one arm, in another scenarios he’s missing a few other limbs. (He can carry you btw, all of them can and no I don’t care how much you weigh. All of them can)

• kills any threat mercilessly. Nothing will harm you ever again. If you want, you can think of him as your knight or better yet, your guard dog. There is nothing that you have to be scared of doing, just make sure you allow him to come with you and let him take care of everybody that's standing in your way. In his eyes you deserve to rule the world but thankfully you're not an evil villain.

•sometimes when he’s awake and you’re not, he‘ll cancel your alarms so that you would miss work. You don’t have to go, after all. And if they fire you, he can eliminate them for upsetting you and he can take care of you. Don’t leave him. Just stay with him and let him love you til you die. He’ll die with you and he can keep worshipping and taking care of you wherever you both go.

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[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── hyunjin messes up and kkami helps him apologize

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff (might be the cutest thing i wrote recently)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is definitely inspired by the new book i'm obsessing over right now so pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Well, well, look who finally remembered he has a loving partner missing him at home.”

You hear Hyunjin sigh on the other end, sheepish, obviously expecting you’d cut him some slack for disappearing for days, like talking to him wasn’t the best part of your day. Touring was hard, and he’s been insanely busy from day one – you get it. That’s why, your tone’s more playful than intended, only being able to let the phone ring for two heartbeats before rushing to answer and let his velvety voice bring sunshine back into your dull life.

“Hello, the absolute love of my life I think about daily.” He clears his throat, brushing over your comment in hopes you’re not truly upset he hasn’t called in so long. Two days weren’t a big deal, but for clingy people like you and him, going 48 hours without hearing what the other has been up to was torture. It was just enough time for insecurity to creep in, feeding you lies upon lies about how he’d forgotten your relationship and was currently in the process of replacing you with someone else, someone better and more worthy of owning his heart.

Your heart flutters, a grin finding its way onto features despite your attempts at stopping it. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Who the fuck is Hyunjin?”

No longer able to keep the happiness at bay, you burst out laughing, the aggravation clear as day in the absence of his usual pet name. Hyunjin was your baby, nothing else. His name only ever left your pretty lips you couldn’t wait to press against his only when the situation called for seriousness.

Settling down, you ignore his displeased huffing. “The guy who hasn’t called me in a week. You might know him.”

You’re teasing. You both know it, just like he knows that behind your words, the only genuine thing is the longing and the wish to have him close again, missing the steady beat of his heart and his familiar warmth that usually lulled you to sleep, badly. Hyunjin has always been great at reading between the lines, figuring you out easily, like you were nothing more than an unchallenging puzzle he could solve with his eyes closed.

“A week? I know I messed up, love, but it’s only been two days. Not even, just about 45 hours.” You hear sheets rustling on the other end, helping you picture him lounging about in the hotel bed, hair most likely still damp from his previous shower. For once, the time difference was not absurd, allowing you to stare wistfully at the moon with certainty the other was doing the same, sharing stories of your love and trusting she’ll keep them safe.

“You counted?” You giggle, making yourself more comfortable on the couch, right next to Kkami who is sleeping soundly.

“I’ve been counting the hours until I can see you again the second I stepped outside our apartment.” He confesses, voice suddenly heavy with emotion before he gasps, ruining what could have been a sweet moment. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Of course, you have. Time seemed to go by incredibly slowly whenever he wasn’t near, the increasing distance causing his magnetic pull to grow weaker each day, but never diminishing, never losing its hold on you. That was impossible.

“No.” You lie blatantly, leaning back against the couch casually, one hand moving to slowly pet Kkami’s head whose slumber gave him the perfect excuse to ignore you.

“Liar.”

For the first time in your life, the fact that he knew you like the back of his hand was annoying.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re still not in the clear for forgetting about me for two whole days, Hyunjin.” You’re not actually mad, just feeling a little bit neglected. Hyunjin has never gone MIA like that, without even texting you brief updates throughout the day just so you’ll know he was still alive and kicking. Your boyfriend was thoughtful, sweet, and considerate – the radio silence you got for the past two days was very unlike him.

“I didn’t forget.” He counters, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head vehemently, denying all of your accusations. “I could never forget, not in this lifetime or any others.”

“Liar.” You mock him, making a face he can’t see and tease you about like he’d usually do. “You could have texted, at least. Let me know you’d be busy.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is soft, apology genuine as can be when he doesn’t try to justify himself or find excuses. Hyunjin is aware that if the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way you’re feeling right now, the anxiety and worry eating at him from the inside and leaving behind a restlessness he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried to. And he does, to an extent. Not being able to contact you drove him on the brink of insanity, making him moodier and more difficult to work it, which was so unlike him.

“Can I talk to Kkami?” He adds, trying to make it up to you in his own, creative way you’ve come to love.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh, not sure you heard him right.

“Pass the phone to Kkami for a moment, please?”

Now you’re curious, wondering what that beautiful mind had in store for you this time. You’ve been dog-sitting Kkami since he left, sending him regular updates in hopes of brightening up his day and keeping the homesickness at bay. Your camera roll has been full of pictures and videos of Kkami - walking him, playing together and being cute just for Hyunjin’s delight. A small price to ensure your boyfriend’s everlasting happiness.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you some privacy?”

He laughs, and you hear the sound of a bag zipping up. “Yes. This is just between us boys, sorry baby.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you do as he asks, lowering the phone close to Kkami’s ear like the pup could actually catch Hyunjin up on what’s been happening around the house since he left. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Kkami’s eyes open as his ears perk up, visibly excited to hear him after so long. With his tail waggling, Kkami listens attentively to whatever Hyunjin is telling him, sleep long forgotten as you start giggling next to him, not believing your eyes.

Kkami was not an affectionate dog, often biting or growling at your lover like he was sick of him. Hyunjin’s presence and fussing were a bore, the dog quickly growing tired of his excited nature, even though your boyfriend was the person he loved most in the world.

That’s exactly why, you’re taken aback when he sprints off the couch, running a lap around the living room before returning to jump at your feet, barking and licking the hand closest to him excitedly.

Dumbfounded, you bring the phone back to your ear laughing. “What did you say to him? He’s suddenly so happy to see me.”

“He’s groveling in my stead. I told him to show you how much I miss you.”

Your heart melts, and suddenly he’s all forgiven as tears well up in your eyes. “Hyun…”

“Actually, I asked him if he wanted a treat.” Your tears get absorbed right back as a laugh bubbles out of the both of you, with Kkami jumping into your lap to beg properly. “I guess he figured I wasn’t there to give him some, so now he expects them from you.”

“You set me up.” You say, voice laced with playfulness as you stand up, scooping Kkami with one hand to fulfill his request. A true glutton, he’d never forgive you if you denied him his beloved snacks.

“Maybe. But my words had the desired effect.” His tone is softer now, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re laughing.”

Yet, the joy didn’t reach its full potential, and never will with hundreds of miles between you. Happiness in its truest form found you in a handful of moments, and for most of them, Hyunjin was right by your side, fueling you with the love and devotion he held for you and you alone. He made you happy like nobody else, helping you see color even on the darkest days. Your beloved loved painting, that’s what he did, you just never thought he could bring forth his talent and make you see beauty in everything, guiding you to see the world through his eyes that always sparkled like he held the entire galaxy in them.

“Baby.”

Hyunjin gasps so loudly, almost like he is on the verge of bursting with happiness, matching Kkami’s energy to a T, ready to jump through the phone to feel your love and affection again.

“Can we facetime? I miss your beautiful face.” You add once Kkami is back on his own paws, devouring the stinky treat in your hand as you crouch to his level.

“Facetime? Love, I’ll literally catch the earliest flight and be there in record time! This little screen isn’t cutting it anymore, I need to see you with my own eyes before I get so desperate I start walking back just to be in your arms!”

And that is your cue to get on a plane first and finally visit your boyfriend before he keeps his word and ends up at your doorsteps with nothing but a duffle bag and a sob story about how much he missed you to justify his careless actions.

[satoruhour]

HIS FAVOURITE W— STUDENT !

a/n: dilly / @crysugu i am losing the pwp war i needed the lore to be in this HELP. anyway !!! professors bc i cannot stop my mind from spiralling while starting my university classes — im not entirely proud of this but eehhh ….

wc: 4k

warnings: ultimately semi-public sex for all, unprotected sex, cumshot, standing doggy, brief oral (m receiving), brief f! masturbation, brief fingering (gojo), geto is a professor who is also a camboy, camgirl!reader, f! and m! masturbation, mentions of bad dragon’s cumtubes, brief fingering, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), pussy slapping, spitting (on yo pussy), pet names, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, tit play, fingering, implied f! masturbation (nanami), mentions of murder, stripper!reader, riding, degradation, calls you ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, calls you ‘mama’ once too, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, slight face-fucking (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

professor gojo was… an interesting teaching figure. he didn’t have a set way of doing lectures or tutorials, nor was his feedback on assignments entirely coherent, but he was fun and unorthodox. he was also hot as fuck, as you’ve heard from your friends, but you never really got the deal even after seeing his photo on the university website or from miles away entertaining some starstruck student. his classes were always left with no vacancies, too, only able to see what your friends meant after stepping foot first into the lecture.

you were a tad bit early, greeted with gojo sitting at the front with his legs propped up on the desk as he shot you a nonchalant greeting and you think maybe you should’ve signed up for another lecture group, but then he speaks and the air is knocked out of your chest. professor gojo is charismatic when he teaches about art, design and media, captivating everyone with the stark white hair and blue eyes, but he’s clever with his glances because you aren’t realising he stares at you more than anyone else.

aren’t you in your second year? how did he not see you anywhere last year? why did you just sign up? 

the smiles he gives you are sweeter than others, the words more sugar coated with lilts in his voice and you’re chastising yourself for not being any different from everyone else, soon turning into the girls who ask for extra tutoring sessions and sidling up to him on campus — at least you’d get the full experience.

“oh! sweetness, what are you doing here?” you’ve managed to get gojo just as he leaves his office, standing outside for quite some time thinking if you’d really want to do this. several lecturers and professors have already walked past asking if you needed anything, but no matter how much you wanted to say professor gojo’s name, it always turned into something like waiting for a friend.

“oh— uhm, professor gojo, just wondering if the grade for that major project is really set in stone?”

gojo makes a show of thinking, but you know you’re asking for the devil himself when he replies yes with a stifled grin and you’re asking if the two week period of appealing works for the major you’re in.

“you can submit other collaterals as an appeal but it might either boost your grade or bring it down,” the professor leans down with a sick smile on his face, because he’s had so many people outside just like this, nervous from his advances and yet not going through with what they thought they could do. but this time it’s you, the you who he imagined taking on his office desk or even in a lecture theatre for everyone to see, who wants the words to fall from your lips just so he could be your knight in shining armour.

“is there really no… other way to appeal?” you swallow when gojo switches the position and gets you in exactly where he wants you: your back facing his office, his face dangerously close to yours while his eyes slyly catching the way your thighs rub together.

gojo smirks to himself when you knock down yet another cup of stationery on his desk after “discussing” ways you could improve your grades, nails making unsatisfactory noises on the wooden desk while he can hear your cunt gush around him, made obvious from the squelch of your hole and he’s muttering praises into your neck from behind.

“this what you had in mind, baby?” just another girl in his roster, getting ruined just for a grade that wasn’t even that bad. what you didn’t know is that you were the only girl, getting professor gojo so hard in lectures and tutorial classes just from the sight of you that to finally have you — it’s a sweet reward. you shiver when his hand reaches to your front to rub at your clit and you’re grasping at nothing as moans leave your lips.

“y-yeah, professor—” gojo is filthy, lewd, lifting your leg to prop up on the desk just so he could get deeper in you, your pussy everything he imagined and more as he continues to fuck into you. you’re warmer than his hand, than some hookup’s mouth from the club, clenching around his cock so tightly his hips stutter.

“f-fuck, angel, tryna snap my dick off?” you let out an incredulous chuckle at that, hips moving back to meet his while the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fill the room. your juices are coating his length so well, too, that gojo’s eyes lock on your cunt that sucks him in over and over again, the spread of your pussy lips just amplifying his moans. the other spreads your cheeks and sighs at the translucent ring of cum at the base of his cock, hips fucking up to hit your sweet spot that you’re cumming with a shock down your spine — so hard, so deep, so intense that you’re jolting from the orgasm with whimpers of his name. gojo never truly is done with you after pulling out to cum on your ass, however, and you aren’t either.

there’s a thrill that runs through his veins when you back him up onto the sofa, a glimmer in your eyes that suggest you’re as intoxicated on him as he is on you, a sultry gaze taking over your shyness from earlier before he’s pushed onto the cushions.

“thank you for the meal, professor,” you giggle and gojo swears he’s reached his death when your mouth first closes around his still sensitive tip and he whines loudly, hearing your fingers fill your drooling cunt as your hand squeezes out leftover cum from before. a hand runs through your hair and your cockdrunk face is enough for him to see white—

professor gojo thinks you look heavenly between his legs.

✶ GETO

you sigh echoes throughout your dorm room, ending the stream and collecting your keep for the day as you grimace at the mess you’ve made on your sheets. it’s not like it wasn’t pleasurable, but on some days you’re wondering how long you truly need to serve gross men on the internet for it to be enough to pay off your university fees. sure, there were a few attractive people who commented and tipped you, but that was the extent of it. it’s not long before you can only think about cleaning up and taking a big fat nap, but a video in the sidebar catches your attention.

it seemed like a casual stream — no script or planned storyline apart from a heavily tattooed arm taking up half the screen, his pelvis just slightly off the thumbnail. he was faceless, too, filming rather from the chest down which was also inked, something that sends a chill to your core.

it’s only later when you’re slipping your dildo back into you as you watch this stranger pump his cock, guttural groans and slick noises filling your airpods that you realise the dragon wrapping around his arm looks awfully familiar. you’re so blissed out by pleasure, focusing on the needy moans that the man lets out before he cums with a grunt, so much cum leaking out from him. you’ve reached your high too, but you have no time to admire the stranger because it seemed like he was in a hurry, but not before you’ve caught a glimpse of his lip ring.

you know why he looked so familiar, now, standing in front of him in his office while his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, something he doesn’t do often. geto suguru doesn’t wear his lip ring in lecturers either, and now you think you know why because they match the video you’ve seen just last night. you aren’t even entirely sure why you were called in, and you think maybe it’s because you “accidentally” sent a friend request, but you’re taken aback when he asks you if you’ve already selected a tutor to be your mentor throughout your major project.

“surprised? i sent out the email a week ago, love.” you try not to let the name get to you, and the confession lingers at the tip of your tongue.

“y-yeah! i saw it, professor geto, just—”

everyone was no stranger to professor geto’s striking looks, always turning heads with his unconventional gauges and long hair that probably should’ve landed him in a modelling agency in the first place. except, he’s opting instead to teach linguistics, a fitting major for him to talk of the history of language and its formation of it, even slipping in some latin and greek to show its origins but you can hardly listen when all you can focus on is the tight pull of his shirt around his body while his hair falls around his face and you think maybe it was a bad time to think if his hair falls out of his bun while he rails someone. you hope soon it’ll be you, just so you can confirm it for yourself with no other reason involved (you’re a fucking liar).

geto clears his throat and you swallow and the flex of his forearms only distract you further, the dragon on his arm seemingly laughing at your torment as it moves along his skin — the other doesn’t miss your dilemma, staring at you for your answer with a dark stare and enjoying the effect he had on you. your brain doesn’t respond fast enough, though, and you’re blurting out the first thing as you watch the curve of his mouth turn in either distaste or satisfaction; you weren’t sure.

“i saw you stream yesterday—” and you slap a hand over your mouth, wanting to run immediately, but you didn’t expect him to smile after a moment of recognition, making the connections to your account until his mouth falls open just a little.

“you’re the little cutie who sent me a request last night, aren’t ya?”

as he asks the question you hoped he wouldn’t ask, you find there’s nothing on your mind except maybe seeing his tattooed arms wrap around you — and you did. they looked so much better up close, leading from one thing to another in that stuffy office soon they’re looking especially good with how he’s currently dragging the tip of his cock along your folds, collecting your slick as you hold onto his biceps after confessing sin after sin about you from—

“i’ve jerked off to your videos.” a burn on your cheeks when geto sets you on his office table, palms leaving hot trails along your thighs and skin. he lets you play with his bulge, hands probably forming bruises on you from how you relieve the tension in his pants.

“the way your cunt wraps around that dildo — makes me wish i was there fuckin’ your pussy instead.” a gasp and a moan when he preps you with both fingers as he sucks hickeys into your neck and plays with your tits, pinching your nipple that has you clenching around him.

“didn’t miss how you like to be bred in your videos too. think maybe you need some real cum, princess,” geto’s button up shirt is pried open by now, trousers just barely pulled down below his hips because he has a lecture in about half n’ hour. though, he wanted your pussy all to himself and if 27 minutes was all he was granted, he was going to make full use of it. geto groans into your hair when your legs wrap around his middle and he’s reeling at how he’s been watching your videos for the longest time and yet, nothing compares to having you fall apart by his hands.

a quick glance to his watch tells him fifteen minutes, eyes flitting back to the squelch of your cunt around him and he smiles smugly at the whimpers he knows so well. he’s sure it’s imprinted on his brain by now but his dick still jumps at the many variations you’ve let out during the 27; he’d commit every single one to memory. “professor— s-shit!”

geto angles his hips up, the curve of his cock hitting that spot just right that your back arches and you let out a drawn out moan, “yes, baby?”

“w-wan’ your cum in me, suguru,” you’re pleading with a drunk little smile and your face is twisted into such pleasure he’s only seen through pixels that geto cums almost immediately with a pained laugh seeing the real thing, hips stilling as he fills you up, up, up to the brim with hot, white semen that geto feels embarrassed to climaxing so quickly. but what can he do? when his favourite camgirl and student asks to be bred, it’s only natural.

how could he possibly say no?

✶ NANAMI

“does that mean the poem is written from the cross’ perspective?” your hand shoots up in hopes of interpreting the text correctly, but also because, just maybe, that you wanted to impress a little someone at the front of the lecture theatre. beside you, you can hear the gasp of your friend along with the eyes of various other students. “sort of like— personification?”

nanami points to you with his glasses that he’s long removed, a small smile on his face. it’s not like you’re trying too hard, but of course you know your shit fairly well. you always have in every class, it was just a bonus you were so attractive that all nanami could think about was spreading your legs right on this desk. “yes, almost. anthropomorphism, something that was very common in poems or works written in old english.”

you were sceptical about professor nanami at first, especially since he was a lecturer who was transferred here from overseas only three months ago and is technically quarter of a white man, but he held command of the japanese language well enough for you to understand, both in speech and concepts. you were more interested in the lecturer himself though, piqued from the moment he explained his grandfather was danish and you turn to your friend, explains the blonde hair, doesn’t explain how he’s so insanely fine, giggling quietly to each other the first day.

as for your major, it was texts after story after poem, but you enjoyed it alongside giving your own input in class — something you knew would help your participation grades. you’ve raised your hand in more ways than one, always coming up at the end of lectures with a question, stopping him in hallways to show him the book you were currently reading. so that’s why you were confused when you were called to the front of the lecture theatre after everything’s over. it couldn’t be bad, right?

it wasn’t bad, it was much better, especially when nanami’s got your legs on either side of him on the lecture theatre desk while he takes his rightful place between your legs — somewhere he’s always longed to be. both the front and back doors are locked, with only your soft, muffled moans filling the room. but nanami has no shame, slurping up the juices that drip from your pussy loudly, possibly staining the desk below him. he’s cared before about the condensation of his drinks but when it comes to your sweet, sweet cunt? he doesn’t give one fuck.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” nanami moans wrapping a forearm around your thighs and just eats. he flicks his tongue over your clit, while the other hand goes up to squeeze at your tits, kneading and playing with them while you’re still at awe at the man on his knees, at how you’ve gotten one of the hottest professors in the university eating out of your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth.

you’re snapped out of your daze when nanami lands a few slaps onto your pussy, brown eyes boring holes into your skull. but this stare is different, as opposed to glaring down the mischievous boys who can’t stop making noise, this is…

“pay attention when i eat your little pussy, angel,” the demanding tone has you shivering, a small grin stifled when he nods in deserved approval and continues his assault. fingers slip in before you have time to react and your head is thrown back so hard it bumps against the wood but you don’t care, clamping down around his fingers. nanami’s pace is unforgiving, sucking hard on your clit while he pumps them in and out.

“feel good?” nanami asks through slurps as he catches your eye, licking one last stripe before gathering his saliva into a ball and he spits onto your clit, sight so lewd you clamp around his fingers. he admires how the way the glob of liquid runs down your cunt and mixes with your arousal that he can’t wait for it to be his cum instead.

“better than…” your voice trails off when he rubs in his spit, a thumb on your bud while he continues to move his fingers and your thighs are already trembling from how nanami knows all your sweet spots in such a short period of time. nanami simply chuckles at your sensitivity, meeting you halfway as you sit up to feel his lips against yours and he whispers against your lips—

“what were you gonna say, baby?”

you’re heaving for oxygen as he adds a third finger and you’re just hoping he’d show you his fucking dick already. hot breath fans across your lips and you smile to yourself seeing how your words affect him.

“better than fucking myself with my fingers thinkin’ it’s your cock, prof.”

✶ TOJI

it was nine in the morning, and toji could already feel a headache forming from the amount of absentees in his class, simply sighing before pulling up the details for today’s lecture, eyes unknowingly looking for you in the large lecture theatre. he finds that you’re already looking, clad in a cardigan and tired eyes — no doubt from trying to reach his deadline earlier than usual. toji found that you liked to do that, the first one to always submit your essays and assignments, so that’s why he knows what game you’re playing at when you’re asking the difference between first, second and third degree murder when you already know their definitions.

he would know — you got full marks the other time. 

“hm?” toji only hums when he sees your enthusiastic face and a quick look down to your lower half shows how your legs spread naturally for him. the professor only licks his lips before he spots your underwear, entertaining you for now as you stare on earnestly, while nothing is actually entering your brain. that’s okay, though, you’re smart.

toji can count on one hand the amount of times you manage to catch him off guard, but he didn’t expect both of those times to be on the same day. it was a busy night at the club, trailing behind professor gojo, bored, until the clock hits 11 and the shift changes, some dancers retiring for the night whilst others make their way out. they emerge with pumps and skimpy outfits, but toji still hasn’t found someone worth wasting his loaded bank account on until you’re stepping out in a corset and garters and toji whistles lowly, eyes travelling up your person unforgivingly before he hears a small gasp.

his curiosity is piqued at the small noise, only to be greeted with your widened eyes and taut muscles at having seen your professor at the strip club you work at, but with a clap from somewhere backstage your body moves naturally into a professional stance, and perhaps a little more sluttily than other days.

your professor was hot, of course you would work twice as hard, twisting your body around the pole while you show off your assets — things you were covering just this morning in professor toji’s lecture. he taught criminology, a minor that you were trying out in your second year of uni and if it didn’t work, you’d drop it, but no matter how much you complained about the class, the green eyes that bore into yours in lectures always seem to ask you to stay. you never really knew whether he was looking at you or not.

at least now, you’ll make him.

toji’s hands tightened around the wad of cash he planned to waste tonight, all put on hold just from watching the way you put your body on display. he wouldn’t have imagined seeing you tonight at the strip club he let gojo drag him to, but he’s almost glad he’s here when you seem to be only dancing for him, all focus on the other patrons lost.

your eyes are still locked with toji’s, reminding you of the times in the lecture theatre where green was all you could see, a smile creeping on your face when one of your girlfriends behind you whispers that the man with the black hair and tight shirt wants a private session with you.

that’s all it took before you feel toji’s hands on your ass later in the private room, pulling you to his front with a smirk. “what’s a sweet girl like you doin’ here?”

you roll your eyes as you feign annoyance. your heart was pounding along with the music, finally being able to feel his toned body from the front., “cut the crap, prof. you booked me for a reason. what, here to talk about my grades or something?”

“what? can’t see my favourite student?” you scoff with a small smile.

“and how did you know i work here?”

“i didn’t, but seeing you work that pole,” toji grins, landing a smack on your butt before grinding his very obvious, large bulge on you and he’s loving the way it seemed to stimulate your clit, “i need ya to show me what i’ve been missing, mama.”

toji groans later while you’ve got his cock in his mouth, on your knees in front of him while you’re fisting the places you can’t reach. you take most of him easily, feeling the tip of his length reach the back of your throat. there, your eyes flick up to him, doe eyed and pleading. it isn’t long before you feel his hips bucking into your mouth and the cute twitch of his cock in your mouth, moaning around him as you knead his thighs, dragging him closer with what little strength you had.

“dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?” toji mumbles out breathlessly, tightening his grip around your hair before you start bobbing your head again, a plethora of lewd noises alongside the slurp of your saliva and his pre-cum mixing only makes your panties wetter and sends your cunt clenching around nothing. “who knew my cutest student was such a whore?” your head reels at the degradation, sucking in your cheeks even more while you slobber over him. toji swears under his breath when your tongue sweeps over his tip, collecting his pre-cum.

“it’s s’big in my mouth, professor,” giggling, you bob your head faster as the other’s noises increase in volume, and he’s left to tap the side of your skull, causing you to tilt your head in question. the vibrations of your moans has him grinding into your mouth, shutting you up until he’s cumming down your throat with a loud groan. toji spills so much into your mouth that you have to swallow twice, pulling on your jaw as you show him the remnants of the cum still on your tongue.

“’m sure they have it somewhere in the conduct about professors not having sexual relations with a student,” toji chuckles when he sees you peel off your underwear, eagerly wrapping his arms around your waist. “or even something about cutting corners to get your grades up…” it’s a little soft, trailing off when he feels you drag his tip along your pussy and he’s mesmerised with how your dripping folds accommodate him easily.

you pout in dramatics, thighs tightening around his when you take inch after inch of him before you’re bottoming out. there’s a deep sigh coming from you before you’re moving your hips lazily, a certain slur to your words that already show you’re drunk on your professor’s cock and toji only smiles.

“yeah, but my grades are perfectly fine,” you whisper with a small whine when toji squeezes your ass, something he never thought he’d get a taste of.

“plus, we’re not in the classroom now, are we, professor?”