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cumikering · 2 days ago

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Barista Keegan x reader

4.8k | fluff The barista at your campus library had the prettiest icy blues, striking against his black leather jacket

It was ten minutes to your next lecture. You gathered your laptop and notes off the table and took the last sip of your coffee – bland now because the ice had melted.

On your way out, you placed the dirty glass on the counter as you mumbled a thanks. The barista, always the same one with the prominent blue eyes, turned from the machine and nodded wordlessly over his shoulder.

The class was always slow, but the coffee helped you to not doze off. Besides, you had something to look forward to after. Outside the lecture hall, your best friend waved at you with a grin. You couldn’t help but return it. She linked arms with you and headed to the parking lot.

“I think I’m getting this,” Monty said as she held her phone out, showing you the birthday dress for her dinner the coming month. She’d been looking forward to the trip to the boutique for her dress fitting.

“Oh, that’s a lovely colour!” you gushed, admiring the pinkish champagne fabric. She would look gorgeous in it.

As you climbed into the front seat of her car, you stalled as you saw the barista again. It was your first time seeing him without his signature apron, but it wasn’t hard to recognise his jet-black hair and sharp jaw. He zipped up his leather jacket and swung his leg over his bike before looking up. The eye contact made your heart stop, but you quickly snapped your gaze away and strapped yourself in.

Monty chuckled, following your previous line of sight. “Is that the barista from the library?”

Out the windshield, he tipped his chin up slightly to fasten his helmet. It was enough for you to catch a glimpse of the movement of his thick neck. He leaned in, looking impressively built grasping the handlebar of his black motorbike as it came to life with a rumble. With the back of his boot, he flipped the kickstand up and rode away.

“I knew you always had a thing for bikers,” she teased.

You waved your hand dismissively, the heat creeping up your neck.

“Well, I was asking if you’d like a dress in a matching shade?”

“Of course! I have time this weekend, I can find-”

“Great, because I was thinking you can try on some dresses with me too.” She beamed, starting her car. “The sooner the better, right?”

The outing lasted longer than expected - the both of you had too much fun trying on all the cute dresses. While Monty settled with her initial choice, you found a simple one in a complimentary shade. After dinner and a movie, she dropped you home close to 11. Unfortunately, it meant you had more schoolwork to do the next day to make up for it.

Last semester, the university got the library revamped with an atrium and a coffee shop. You’d made it a habit to study there, and inadvertently saw the barista a lot. You didn’t mean to. It was not your fault he worked there on the days you came in.

You usually came between classes, but that Friday was an exception. When you found yourself heading to the library after your only class, you told yourself it was because the atmosphere was less depressing than your cramped studio apartment. It didn’t hurt that the drinks were good.

Definitely not because of the handsome and tattooed barista with his pretty eyes. Or that his voice was ridiculously silky like he was purring when he repeated your order at the register. Did he always sound like that, or was it just his library voice?

“One iced caramel latte,” he called in a gentle tone.

From across the room, you made your way to the counter. When you looked up, he smiled at you.

Despite his deadpan tone and sharp eyes, it wasn’t that he was unfriendly. He was always polite, but it was your first time seeing him really smile – like he meant to.

You flashed him a smile in return as the butterflies stirred in your belly, but averted your gaze down to his nametag. Keegan R. Obviously still the same since you first saw it those months ago.

“Thank you,” you mumbled. You grabbed your drink and hurried back to your table.

You weren’t there to see him – wasn’t trying to. It wasn’t your fault he worked there, was it?

As you sipped between the pages of your textbook, you looked up to the darkening sky, the clouds swirling. The trees swayed in the wind before the first drop of rain splattered on the tall glass ceiling.

It looked like the rain would last a while. You pulled out your earbuds, preferring the pitter patter of the rain and powered through your essay. Thankfully, you weren’t stuck somewhere unpleasant, and you had almost two hours until the library closed. Surely the rain would have passed by then.

Wrong.

When a figure approached you, the rain had barely slowed.

“Just a heads up, dear, we close in 15 minutes,” the librarian said, always with the polite smile.

“Right. Okay.“

“Diana, mind if I lock up today? I’ll have to wait the rain out anyway,” Keegan chimed from his counter.

“Oh, sure,” she answered and looked back at you. “Well, you can stay longer then.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

As the last few students left the building, you thought it was Diana approaching your table once more, but it was Keegan instead.

“Would you like anything else to drink? On the house.”

“Sorry?”

“I get a free drink for each shift. I figured I’d make you something since you come here a lot.”

You didn’t know what to make of the fact that he noticed, but you smiled. “Dealer’s choice? Whatever’s convenient for you.”

You looked up when Diana bade her goodbyes to Keegan and dropped her keys off on the counter, leaving the both of you in the building. You supposed it was time for a break. You packed your books aside and pulled up a gameplay video of your latest obsession.

“One iced Franken-latte.” Keegan placed two cups on the table. “Or two. It didn’t fit in one glass.”

“A what?”

“Frankenstein latte. I’ve never tried it, but my coworker always makes it after his shift.”

So it wasn’t his library voice. His voice was that honeyed for no reason.

You tried to bite down your grin. “One for you then.”

“Why not.” He shrugged, blue eyes wondering to your laptop screen. “Is that A Way Out?”

“Yes! Have you played?”

He pulled out the chair next to you. “My roommate absolutely sucks at games so not more than an hour unfortunately. Have you?”

You shook your head. “Got no console,” you said, reaching for the cup. “Well, thanks for this.”

He hummed and followed suit after you took a sip of the unsuspecting latte.

You didn’t want to be rude, but your brows couldn’t help but knit. Your wary gaze slid to him. Was this a prank?

Keegan turned to you with a deadpan expression before sighing. “That tastes terrible.” He placed the cup back on the table. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have trusted Kick and his fruity, salted caramel toothpaste.”

You laughed. “What the hell is in this?”

“A dash of every syrup.” He got up, heat colouring his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. He swears it’s the best, but I’m not sure what he smokes anymore these days.” He gathered your cups and made his way behind the counter.

You followed him, still chuckling as he dumped the cursed lattes in the sink.

“Could I make you something else?” he called behind his shoulder.

“That’s fine.” You looked out the window. “I think the rain won’t last much longer anyway.”

He turned to you, seemingly wounded by the rejection. “I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose. I do hope that wouldn’t stop you from coming back.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back, of course,” you reassured. “At least we can say we’ve tried every syrup.”

His shoulders relaxed as he gave you a small smile. As he cleaned his station for closing, you leaned against the wooden counter and asked what he’d been playing on his console. You discussed your favourite games and upcoming releases, finding that you both had a common taste in games.

You made him laugh. The way the deep rumble from his chest made you bite your lip, it was just as well he had his back to you. At least he wouldn’t catch you staring at his muscles casually flexing as he wiped down the already-spotless stainless-steel counters.

“All done now,” he announced, taking one last look at his work. He reached behind to remove his apron before excusing himself to the back of the house.

You almost didn’t notice the rain had stopped to a mere trickle. You, too, retreated to your table to pack your laptop. Embarrassment flared at how much you enjoyed looking at him and his tattooed arms. You could only do it from across the room, so how could anyone blame you for being greedy when you could stand so close? But you weren’t supposed to be admiring him any more than you already did whenever you studied, yet there you were, fuelling your aimless infatuation.

Moments after, he joined you at the door, now clad in his leather jacket and backpack, his shiny black helmet in hand.

“Thanks again for the drink,” you said as he locked up. “Keegan,” you added, albeit a little too late for it to sound natural.

He turned to you with a sparkle in his vibrant blue eyes. “You’re welcome. I promise to make you something better next time.”

You only realised now he was a few inches taller than you. You smiled before shifting your gaze to your feet and nodded.

“Where did you park?”

“I’m walking home.”

“Do you want a ride?” he asked, not missing a beat.

Keegan rode slow the few minutes to your apartment. He wore his backpack in reverse and said you could hold onto its straps - out of courtesy you hoped. He’d been too nice with the drink and ride, but at least your place was on his way to his, so you didn’t feel too bad.

You thanked him in front of your building, earning you a nod. Or maybe more, who knew, he had his helmet on. With that, you turned, chewing on your lip. The flutters were more than just from the thrill of the ride.

Being so close to him, you couldn’t help but inhale him in the breeze. The sweet earthiness of leather, robust coffee, a hint of sweat, and a dash of smoke and gasoline somewhere in there. The scent would haunt you for a little longer.

After two steps, he called, “H-Hey- uh, hold on.“

Keegan couldn’t believe it. He got your number.

Never mind that he stumbled over his words when he asked. It didn’t help that the wind had tousled your hair making you even more adorable. But you smiled so sweetly when you handed his phone back to him and he had your number.

For months, each week you’d come to the library two out of the four days he worked. Of course he noticed. You’d pick the table in the far corner and study with your earphones on. You were always a little shy, never meeting his eyes for more than a few seconds each time. No matter, it meant he had more time to look at your pretty face up close, because otherwise he could only steal glances from afar.

In his last year of engineering degree, he had far fewer classes and could work more hours. But when he studied behind the counter, it didn’t feel as lonely with you there across the room.

But you were always just that to him: a muse, a fantasy, a distant company. He didn’t know any more than your name. He didn’t know what you studied, if you had a boyfriend… He didn’t even want to smile nor acknowledge this - what if he got too attached?

But that Thursday when you tore your gaze away from his in the parking lot, something shifted. Maybe he wasn’t just a dude who made your coffee after all.

So on Friday the next day when you unexpectantly came, Keegan couldn’t hold back his excitement. You usually came on Tuesday and Thursday, he assumed between classes. It was just his luck you stayed until closing so he could make a complimentary drink for his favourite customer. Baristas did that all the time, right?

However, in the flurry, he didn’t think through Kick’s recipe. He’d always been skeptical, but why else would his colleague make it so often? He should have listened to his guts because it was repulsive. But you laughed, and- oh God, you were so pretty. And you liked the games he liked? It was unbelievable.

So with his back to you, he scrubbed and scrubbed the counters as you chatted until his arms ached. He didn’t want to turn to you and look creepy with his uncontainable grin. Would he ever get another chance to talk to you like this again?

He spent his entire weekend itching to say something to you, but he couldn’t figure out what to text and therefore was forced to wait until you’d drop by the library again. He didn’t see you on Monday, as he’d expected. But when Tuesday afternoon came around, the buzz in him intensified. Any minute now.

When you approached the glass door, he busied himself, not wanting to look like a puppy with its wet nose against the window as its tail wagged. But when you said hello, he whipped to you so fast, the grin already on his face.

“Hi. What can I get you today?”

You smiled, maybe even laughed a little. Did his voice crack?

Your gaze dropped to the summer menu. “One pink lemonade, please.”

He tapped on the tablet. “My treat. To make up for the other day.”

“Oh, no. You can’t do that-“

He turned to the fridge. “Coming right up.”

You placed the bills into the tip jar instead.

On your way to your next class, you placed the dirty cup on the counter. “Thanks, Keegan. See you around.”

He made his way to you and cleared his throat. “I can give you a ride home on Thursday if you want,” he said, remembering last week when he saw you at the parking lot. “I’ll bring my old helmet you can wear.”

“Oh, you’ve been too nice. Thanks so much, but I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I really don’t mind, but that’s only if you want to.”

You smiled. “If you say so.”

When your lecture ended that Thursday, Keegan was already waiting with a tumbler of lemonade and two helmets. You came out with a girl next to you, radiant as you chatted with her. She’d come to the library a few times with you to get her caramel macchiato with oat milk.

You did a double take, but your smile widened when your pretty eyes met his. You were supposed to meet him at the library, but he’d taken the liberty to surprise you instead. You introduced him to your friend Montana who didn’t bother to hide the knowing look she shot your way.

It only made his stomach flip. Was he being too obvious?

In front of his bike, you waved goodbye at Montana as she drove off. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea riding in the summer, a fact he’d never mulled over until he stood there as you sipped your ice cold lemonade. He gulped.

With a small laugh, you offered the last half of the drink, which he gladly chugged. It was just what he needed.

He handed you his old helmet, deep red - his first one. It was perfectly functional, albeit scuffed up from all the times he carelessly dropped it onto the grating pavement, or knocked it over tables and chairs over the years.

“Do you have anywhere to be?”

He zipped his jacket up. “No. Why?”

“You want to get something to eat?”

He smiled. “We can go anywhere.”

Keegan picked his favourite burger joint, the one at the pier. You chatted as you ate, and as pretty as the ocean was outside, the air conditioning indoors was too comfortable to pass up on. You shared another serving of fries, and he wished the table was smaller so he could be closer to you.

Why did it feel so good being around you? There was no awkward silence even when no words were exchanged. The quiet was easy; on his brain too, because he’d never been the chattiest in the room. You exuded serenity, the kind that gave him a dash of nervousness that kept his stomach tossing in delight. He couldn’t look away - he wanted to lean in closer and closer.

You insisted on paying, and with a pleased smile, he let you. It would simply be an excuse to return the favour with more drinks.

Later when you hopped on his bike, he didn’t expect for your arms to wrap around his waist. His breath hitched. Was this really happening? Surely, you only did this for safety purposes. He shouldn’t be reading that much into it. Although it would be embarrassing if you could feel his heartbeat going crazy if you leaned in any longer.

When you got off his bike in front of your building, he turned to you and popped his visor up.

You took the helmet off and handed it back to him. “Thanks for today, Keegan.”

“You’re welcome.” He took it with a grin. “I had fun.”

You smiled. “Me too.”

“I was wondering… If you’d like to come over and play A Way Out tomorrow? Alex should be home too. We can get pizza for dinner after.” He was glad his face was covered because he could have sworn he was beet red under it. “Only if you have time, of course.”

You averted your eyes, but your smile only brightened. “I’d like that.”

“Then you keep this. For tomorrow.” He held out the helmet towards you.

And so it became a routine.

Some days, Keegan would wait with a drink in his tumbler in front of your lecture hall before heading to his own class. Once a week, you’d make him sandwiches for lunch and drop them off at the library. Sometimes you’d do schoolwork there together.

He tried to not make it obvious that every now and then he’d linger around to spend a little more time with you, be it to grab a bite or to simply give you a ride home – something he always did when your schedules allowed anyway. But on Fridays, you always came over to his place to game.

Not only was co-op gaming with you insanely fun, he also guided you on how to play some of his favourite single-player games. The way you’d laugh in delight, he could listen to you all day. And he did, sitting next to you watching you play. This was more his thing anyway: enjoying your presence without having to always talk.

Ajax, who was reserved (if he wasn’t, Keegan wouldn’t have been close friends with him since high school, let alone be his flatmate), didn’t take long to warm up to you either. While he was quiet at the first pizza dinner, he lingered whenever he emerged out of his room, standing by the couch munching on his potato chips as he nodded approvingly at each shot you got. Soon, he would wedge himself next to Keegan to cheer you on and hype you up.

You’d turn to him with a proud smile. Yeah, he could sit there next to you all day.

Meanwhile, something had been brewing in Keegan’s mind. He’d been wanting to take you to the helmet shop too pick out something you like, but he was worried it was too forward, too much of a commitment. What if you got the wrong idea? Well, evidently, he did want to articulate that idea, but what if he scared you away instead? He hadn’t even held your hand.

And so he did what he did best: be patient and wait. He’d rather be sure you were comfortable with him than rush into things and ruin any chance he had with you. No matter how subtle, you would give him signs, right?

The last Saturday before Monty’s birthday, you went out for ice cream with her before going to her final fitting. When she suggested dinner afterwards, you told her you’d made plans with Keegan.

“So what’s going on with you and him?” she asked as she smoothed down her dress, smiling teasingly through the large full length mirror.

“Nothing.”

“He’ll be your plus one at my dinner, right?” She twisted, inspecting the dress on her.

“What? No! He doesn’t see me like that.” You swatted your hand. “We’re just friends,” you trailed off, trying to not slump in your seat.

“He definitely likes you! Why else would you be out with him on Saturday night?”

“He doesn’t. He… He never makes a move.” Your gaze dropped to the ground.

Monty marched to you and gripped you by the shoulders. “Oh my God! How is waiting outside your lecture hall with a freshly made drink only to give you a ride home not a move?”

“But…”

“I would have believed if you told me he didn’t have the muscles to smile, until I saw him with you.” She shook her head. “The poor guy. Put him out of his misery already!”

When Keegan picked you up for dinner from the boutique, Montana was all smiles while you couldn’t seem to hold his gaze.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, handing you the helmet.

You shook your head, fastening the strap.

You’d tell him when you were ready, and he could be patient. But at the taco place as he stared at you staring at your hands under the table – it was uncharacteristic of him, the silence grated against him. Did he do something?

“Did I-“

“Keegan,” you started at the same time, eyes flicking to him before dropping back.

“Yes?” he asked hopefully.

“Would you want to come to Monty’s dinner with me?”

He grinned, relieved. “Of course, yes. It would be my pleasure.”

As if the tension had melted, you were your normal self again, giggly and warm. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but you held his gaze longer than usual. He liked it. He loved looking into your pretty eyes. He scooted his seat closer to the table, letting his foot rest against yours. You didn’t move away.

For dessert, he got you a churro from the food truck nearby. His stomach flipped when your fingers brushed his when he handed it to you.

On the way to yours, at the red light – oh, he’d been aching to do this for weeks - he finally plucked up the courage to squeeze his hand over yours as you held onto his waist. You held on tighter. He liked to think you smiled behind him, the shy kind perhaps. You always looked adorable with it.

Over the next week, you sat a little closer to him – maybe only an inch or two, but it didn’t elude him. You didn’t look away nearly as much as you used to either. He liked that you were finally comfortable enough with him.

In a burst of confidence, he grasped your hand as he walked you to class. It made his heart flutter whenever you’d look up at him with a smile like that. You walked closer to him, your other hand clasped over his tattooed arm. He bit down his grin.

Before Keegan knew it, it was Montana’s birthday.

That evening, in front of the bathroom mirror, he brushed his fingers through his hair and leaned in, inspecting his handiwork. Was it supposed to look this way? He hadn’t had to style his hair in such a long time (his helmet wouldn’t have allowed it).

“Dude, you look fine, I swear,” Ajax called from the couch. “She already likes you anyway.”

He stood in front of the doorway facing his roommate, voice hopeful. “Are you sure?”

He did a once over as Keegan smoothed down his crisp black button down and dark jeans. Freshly shaved, he’d also put on some cologne for the occasion.

“Affirmative. Just go already!” He slipped past him, slamming the bathroom door behind him. “I’ve been holding my piss in for half an hour!”

He laughed and bade his goodbye, not forgetting to pick up the keys on the table. Ajax had told him to drive his car for the night, an offer he gratefully took.

At your door, Keegan shifted his weight as he, once more, examined his boots, his hands shoved in his pockets. When you opened the door, his greeting wedged in his throat.

“You’re-“ His eyes scanned down your outfit, letting out an inaudible ‘wow’. “You’re gorgeous.”

You were stunning in your peach dress, the shade complementing your skin. You’d done your hair too, pretty in your heels and glossy lips.

You smiled, reaching to place a hand on his forearm. “Thank you. You look really nice yourself.”

At the venue, Montana lit up when she saw you, but clasped her hand over her laughter when she registered the large gift you carried. She donned a sequin dress, the shade similar to yours. You embraced and gushed over each other’s outfit before her attention turned to the Hello Kitty plushie you cradled. She wore a pink helmet and a matching racing suit - you told him she was a Formula One fan. He smiled. It was endearing how much you adored each other.

Montana had assigned her boyfriend, Troy, and you to sit next to her, with Keegan by your side. She would have liked the Hello Kitty to get her own seat at the table too, alas, she didn’t RSVP and had to sit among the other gifts. As you chatted with the neighbouring guests at dinner, your hand on his thigh comforted him. He didn’t usually like large gatherings, especially one where he didn’t know most of the attendants, but you didn’t make him feel left out as you included him in the conversation. His hand enveloped yours in appreciation as he tried to hide his smile behind his glass.

After dessert, the ladies got up to dance to the upbeat music. You and your girls laughed on the dancefloor, enjoying yourselves. He couldn’t help the grin that bloomed on his face. Did you always look that beautiful?

Focused on you, he didn’t realise Montana had made her way to him.

“Go dance with her.”

Keegan chuckled. He didn’t know how to dance.

“Come on, don’t make her wait too long now.” She walked away, shooting a teasing smile over her shoulder.

He let out a small laugh as he pushed his chair back. If he had to embarrass himself, you were the only one he wanted to do it for. As he approached, your girls stepped away with a giggle, making you frown in confusion.

At the sight of him, you relaxed.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

You nodded, your smile widening.

He took a step in, tentatively resting his hands on your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and started swaying. He followed, careful to not step on your toes, but honestly, he was content to bask in the proximity and simply stare into your eyes like so.

Just as he thought the electronic music wasn’t ideal, the song abruptly changed into something slower. You laughed. Montana couldn’t have been more obvious with this, huh?

Your thumb brushed the nape of his neck, sending tingles down his spine. With a shaky breath, he leaned in, forehead resting against yours before shutting his eyes. This close, he could smell you – sweet and soft.

Were his palms sweating? Probably, but he couldn’t tell with the way they fitted perfectly on your waist.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder, but must have felt his heartbeat picking up because you looked up at him with an amused look.

His icy blues were already on you, tender yet intense. “Can I kiss you?”

Your brilliant smile was all the answer he needed. Against your lips, he sighed deeply as his fingers curled over your waist, wanting to stay in the moment longer. You seemed to feel the same, your arms wrapping tighter around him as you pressed your body against his.

When you pulled away, he chuckled in awe while you looked away.

He tilted your face up to him, thumb brushing over your cheek. “We should get you your own helmet.”

“I’d like that,” your murmured against his smile.

Masterlist Tinder Keegan Neighbour Keegan Werewolf Keegan

Happy birthday to @operationdeadbolt my first ever Keegan simp friend!! You’re such a cutie bundle of sunshine. I adore the way you love so much, so generously, gushing over the things you like. Talking to you always makes me smile, and you inspire me to keep enjoying life, to be grateful. You gave me the moon and I always think of you when I see it

Thank you for reminding me there is joy to be found everywhere. I hope happiness and resilience are always with you every step of the way. Here’s to many more times we’re going to crush on cod dudes <3

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mintraindrop · 2 days ago

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YES! ♡

did somebody say college au meet cute where they live in the same off campus student residence and oscar just missed the bus and is running late for class so lando offers him a lift?

#it's a need #landoscar #college au #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #lando norris

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nieceeee · 17 hours ago

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"VIDEO PHONE"

P/S: Gojo was more reserved about his personal life than most people. From the outside he was a standup guy. Mostly quiet to those who didn't know him. He kept his head low, his grades high, and his mouth closed. But Gojo had a very nasty secret. Because deep in his mansion, with his doors bolted shut Gojo has an obsession. One that just happens to be the melanated girl that sits in front of him in class. He never spoke to you in public but the thoughts he had about you in private would make a porn star blush. But Gojo failed to realize one little thing. You knew exactly who your favorite streamer was, it was only a matter of time until you addressed him about it...

WC: 2.7K

A/N: SMUT MINORS DNI, nerd gojo x camgirl reader, use of pet names, p in v, black coded, semi-stalker gojo (he lurks her camgirl page basically) video sex, masturbation, they're in grad school. all dat yadayada

Satoru Gojo was a paradox.

Two sides of the same coin. A mirror some may say.

To the outside world he was Satoru Gojo. Head of the Gojo clan. A man of restraint and a decorum. The picture perfect reputation in every category - grades, looks, social status. Nothing seemed to phase him and nothing could break him. His quiet yet nerdy exterior of silence seemingly impenetrable. Professors adored him, women coveted him, men loathed him. But nothing. Nothing could break him.

If they only knew.

The deep dark secret that Gojo kept well hidden. One that was exposed only to the privacy of the four walls of his bedroom in his mansion. A secret so dark and twisted, it kept him awake at night. Heart racing with anticipation, mind drowning in lust, body littered in sin. And it was all centered around you.

You.

The girl that drove his obsessions. His cute classmate who sat a row in front of him. Always dressed in the cutest outfits with your bold hair and pink outfits. Shirts always a little too short, exposing the skin of your lower back when you sat up in your seat. Gojo never spoke to you but that didn't mean he didn't think of you.

Oh how he thought of you.

Gojo hid it well. The way you tortured him. Masked underneath an ever-so-calm facade. Gojo couldn’t help himself. The more he watched you, the more obsessed his thoughts became. He had this thing. Not a kink, but just a…thing when it came to a specific type of woman. A woman who appeared so innocent but her power and confidence radiated through her skin. A woman who was assertive, oozing dominance yet still subtly submissive. A woman like you.

You would be his undoing, the very thing to unravel his perfectly sculpted figure.

It started off so innocent. He walked into class and noticed you sitting there. Hair freshly braided and tossed to one side, a headphone in one ear and a school girl skirt that cut a centimeter too high. He watched you focus, always sharp, always confident. A boisterous laugh and infectious smile. The first time you spoke to him was when you were passing back a paper. Your freshly manicured nails slipped him his test. “Great job” you whispered as you held it out for him to take. You voice flowing through his eardrums smooth as molasses, sending a warm coating down him body. You were a breath of fresh air. A sweet song serenading him and he wanted to get lost in you. He was so wrapped up in your eyes that he completely missed what you had said. You tilt your head a bit in confusion. “Gojo?” you say. How he wished he could hear you say his name again. “Y-yeah.” he stammers. “Your paper?” you say motioning down to your hand. “Oh! I-I…sorry.” he quickly pulls the paper from you, catching it on your finger and slicing into your skin. “Shit.” you say softly pulling your hand back. “I..I’m sorry.” he repeats lifting his bag and digging through it for his first aid kit. He pops open the plastic container and hands you a bandaid. “S-sorry.” he drops his head. You open your mouth to speak but the bell rings and he darts from his seat before you get the chance.

The next day was nerve wrecking, how could he face you. His steps were heavy as made his way into class that day. You were already seated. You looked up to acknowledge him but he averted your gaze, still embarrassed from the day before. “Hey you.” a voice says to him during a class breakout session. His eyes widen. “I’m really sorry about yesterday.” he blurts out. You giggle at him. “Gojo. It's fine. It was just a little paper cut. See.” you hold up your hand and press your lips against your finger. “All better. Kissed it better.” You smile as you turn back around.

Heat flushed across Gojo’s face as his mind dove into that deep dark tunnel that he tries so hard to keep hidden. Your lips. A simple gesture but the way his mind warped reality into seeing them wrapped around the head of his dick make his face burn red.

This was all his fault.

She has no clue he groans to himself.

That image burned into his mind as he went throughout the day, quickly racing home to his room. Bolting himself inside. He tossed his bookbag into the abyss and rushed to his laptop. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” he groans. He types as fast as his fingers would allow, loading up his private browser.

Those lips.

He pulled up your page. hi$f@vebunniii_ Images loaded and it took everything in him not to release right there. Your image flooded his screen. Photos. Videos. All of you. His obsession. His muse. He clicked your most recent upload. Lips pursed and pressed against the bandaid from yesterday, Rihanna: Kiss It Better playing in the background, caption reading “Got a little scratch today, who wants to kiss it better for me?” Another groan left his lips.

That was his bandaid.

Sick, twisted and lustful, his hand slips into his pants, gently stroking himself to your photo. His eyes flutter shut and he hears your voice again. “A-aah…” he whimpers as he strokes himself faster. Bright white lights blind his vision at the images of you before his release oozes from his tip. “Oh fuck y/n” he cries out. His head falls back, chest heaving. You had no clue what you had started.

And that was just the beginning.

Before long. Gojo was scouring the web for your content. Photos. Videos. Live chats. Anything he could find to see you. He nights obsessing over you, fucking his hand into overstimulation at the thought of you.

It was wrong. You were his peer. His classmate. You sat right in front of him.

But he couldn’t stop.

Behind his hidden page, he subbed to you. Your highest donor and most frequent viewer.

The woman who lit his fantasies was his sweet classmate who knew nothing of his perverse thoughts about her.

So he thought…

But you. The smart girl that you are. You figured it out a long time ago. It started with the frequency of his appearance in your streams. The cryptic 6ix_blue!3y3s user who would watch your stream from beginning to end. Always quiet in chats but never one to shy away from donations.

He was obvious.

The cute white haired boy in your class who threw subtle glances at you throughout the lectures. Whose eyes lingered longer than they should at your low cut tops and too high skirt. Who could never fully face your right after a stream, head always held down. And when you did get his attention. Oh, the way he turned red at your interactions. It didn't take long for you to put two and two together. Anyone else may not have caught on so easily.

But you? You knew.

You knew how to read people. You’d watched him intensely. You weren't blind. You weren't naive. The way he looked at you was familiar. A hunger he tried to bury deep within himself but one gentle touch and his chest began to rise and fall at a rapid pace. He wasn’t alone in his feelings. The way he looked at you sent something electric through your veins, a type of heat that you couldn’t ignore. The same heat you’d been chasing every time he joined your stream late at night. The one where Gojo Satoru, would send donations but never message in the chat—always lurking, always watching.

You knew who exactly who he was. You knew it was him. He never gave it away on stream, but the way he would try to hide his identity with those random, cryptic responses when you did get him to speak made it clear. That was the reason for the bandaid photo. A little experiment of yours to see if he would crumble. And that he did. Eyes darting away from you every chance he could, unable to speak, nervous glances in your direction. Yeah, you knew. The notorious Gojo Satoru, with his perfect grades, his “innocent” charm, and the eyes that followed you like a shadow.

And yet, here he was, still pretending to be just another sweet face in the classroom. Still pretending that you didn’t know what his secret was. That you didn’t know what kind of fantasies he had when he was alone, tucked away in the darkness of his mansion.

But it was about time you brought the dark to the light

That night you set up the stream, an energy bubbled beneath your skin. You checked yourself over again. Braids pulled into pigtails, light blue cotton crop top just barely covering your chest, skimpy white silk bottoms and knee high socks. You pulled your knee to your chest and the screen went live. He was one of the first to appear. You held in the smile playing at your lips.

It was time to confront him, to rid yourself of the tension that had been building for weeks between your two. You wanted to see how far you could push him.

You converse in the chat here and there. Speaking to everyone. He popped in every now and again. Then you put your plan in motion.

“Oh guys I didn't get to tell you about my cute classmate today.” you say setting the bait. On the other side of the world on another screen, Gojo was walking back into his room, snacks in hand, your stream pulled up. He almost dropped everything when the words cute classmate came out your mouth. He rushed back over to his screen nearly tripping in the process.

“...He’s so fucking cute. I just want to eat him up. Ah, gojo.. The things you make me feel.” you voice says through the laptop and his heart feels like it will burst from his chest. “Me?” he says aloud to no one. You go on raving about him.

“Oh and I can only imagine how big it is. You know they say the quiet nerdy boys are usually the freakiest” you say directly into the camera. He couldn't believe it. There was no way you were talking about him. It wasn't possible. But here you were going on and on. You knew he was there on the other side, he had stopped messaging in the chat. Maybe too stunned to speak. You smirk to yourself. “Tonight, I’m dedicating this stream to my sexy ass classmate Gojo Satoru.” you say. “Oh fuck…” he whimpers. You slide back from your seat and reposition your camera. “Let’s see how pretty and wet Gojo makes her tonight, hmm?” you say as you undress. Gojo’s mouth drops open.

You take your time undressing yourself before walking over and sitting on your bed, breast poked out and legs spread, clad in only your thin lace panties. You hand slips down your body and onto your clit, circling slowly. Gojo’s eyes were glued to his laptop as the circular motion mesmerized him. You pull a small vibrator out from behind you and switch it on. The buzzing sound rings in his ears. The vibrations provided automatic stimulation as it rustled against your panties. A small cry of pleasure slipped from your lips as your head tilted back. “Shit.” he gasped, his hands quickly making work of removing his pants. He lubes himself up and starts to stroke his dick, his eyes still glued to where the vibrator met your panties.

You used the tip of the vibrator to slide the fabric to the side, exposing yourself to the cool air. “Fuck Gojo.” you groan aloud into the camera. He whimpers, goosebumps trailing his skin. His eyes stayed laser focused on you. “Doesn’t she look pretty?” you whine. He nods into nothingness in his room between strokes. “So pretty” he responds knowing you can’t hear him.

You quickly sit up and remove the panties. “Now let’s have some real fun.” You increase the speed on the vibrator before spitting on it to get it wet. Gojo moans aloud as he watches you take the vibrating silicone and slip it inside your tight walls, already clenching around it. The squelching from your juices filling the air and ringing in his ears as you pump it in and out of your walls. Gojo matches your speed, tugging at himself as his breath gets choppier. Both rooms echoing with your arousals as you purr his name and he moans yours. Each of you living out your own fantasy.

You feel your climax nearing so you increase the speed, adding pressure to your clit with your other hand. “Fuck Toru, I’m gong to cum.” you whine, back arching from the bed. “Please. Please.” he whines aloud, hoping none of his servants were walking his quarters. Your orgasm crashed into you like a wave as you ride it out.

“Shit…m’fuck.” Gojo whines as he shoots his release out, splashing all over his lap, cum hitting his screen.

You take a few moments to collect yourself before gently cleaning up. “Well, I hope you all had as much fun as I did.” you say with a smile. Your chat floods with thank yous and responses until one by one they leave, leaving just you and Gojo. He, on the other side, trying to clean up the mess he made. “And Gojo, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in class.” you say before signing off. His eyes widen at your message but the stream has ended before he can chat back.

“Oh shit.” he lets out.

You knew.

The next day, you sat in your chair patiently waiting for him to enter the classroom. As soon as he stepped through the door, his eyes were on you. That familiar red hue brushes across his face as he approaches you. “Good morning Toru.” you say sweetly. He tries to suppress it but a little groan slips from his chest. You press your lips together to keep from smiling. Throughout class he tries his best to focus on anything but you. But each time he looked at you, flashes from the night before play in his mind and he feels his dick hardening underneath his desk.

When the bell rings you pack up and head out of class. He opens his mouth to speak but you’re up before he gets a chance. After a quick beat, he stuffs everything in his bag and runs after you. “W-wait..” he calls down the hall. Passerby eyes raise at his actions. The notorious Satoru Gojo, coming undone.

He catches up with you quickly, chest rising and falling. “Yes, Gojo?” you say innocently. “I-...uh, I, fuck..” He expresses. You step closer pressing your chest into his, looking up into his eyes, “Yes. Toru.” you say softly. “You…uh.. I’m..” he tries to find the words to say it. How can he? The kogs in his mind spin as he tries to find a respectful way to say what you already knew. You motion for him to come closer. He leans down as you cup a hand around his ear and whisper, “Did you enjoy your stream Toru?” He gasps, hands instinctively coming up and gripping your waist.

His jaw clenches as he tries to collect himself. You meet his gaze again. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” he says breathlessly. Your heart raced as you respond, knowing full well what you were doing to him. "You think I don’t know?" You leaned closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your eyes pierce into his blue ones. "I’ve been watching you just as closely as you’ve been watching me." you say softly.

His eyes widen at your confession. “The question is… are you going to keep watching or are you ready to play?” you challenge. His adam’s apple throbs as he swallows, processing your words slowly.

“I..” he takes his time. You wait patiently. Arms wrapped around him still. He takes a deep breath before pulling your body flush to him.

“Let’s play.”

82 notes · View notes

silentscrying · 2 days ago

Text

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track two: kowalski, status report

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, toge bullying, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

"I SHOULDN'T CUSS in this, right?"

It’s the day before the other four artists premiere their sets at Battle of the Bands, and you haven’t been home since six in the morning. You’re running on caffeine and spite and the pursuit of the story, parked on a high stool across the bar from the one and only Ieiri Shoko.

Toge leans on the counter beside you, opting to stand. He’s agreed to pay for the next snack run in return for you letting him be your partner. You both know you’re going to end up doing most of the writing, but you don’t really mind. Toge would if you asked him to, but you love this kind of thing in a way he just doesn’t. Plus, he’s better with a camera than you, and he’s taking photos tomorrow night.

You laugh, pulling out your phone to record. “You can say whatever you want as long as it’s honest. Be candid.”

“You might regret saying that!” Gojo calls from the back, and Shoko silences him with a glare.

“Are you coming or not?”

Gojo grins and finishes up whatever he’s putting away in the storage room, then strides out and leans his elbows on the counter.

“Do you mind if I record?” You point to the open voice memo app. “Makes it easier to quote you correctly.” You also just hate running interviews when you’re scribbling hand-written notes the whole time. You’d much rather have a genuine conversation and worry about the details later.

Shoko waves a hand airily. “No problem.”

“Absolutely,” Gojo says. “You can probably sell that for thousands.”

You set the phone on the counter, next to one of the tiny pumpkins scattered across it in celebration of the beginning of October. You and Toge bounce back and forth as you run through the standard start-of-interview checklist, having them spell out their names, getting their ages, hometowns, degrees, all that jazz. And then you launch into the stuff you really care about.

“So, you opened The Fix about ten years ago now, correct?”

Shoko nods. “Yeah, a little over two years after we graduated.”

You look at Gojo, whose eyes are even more alarmingly blue in the daylight. “And you were hired right away?”

“Utahime first, then me,” he nods. “Best for last, y’know.”

Shoko snorts. “We knew each other in school. I just took pity on him.” She smirks as Gojo’s jaw drops. “You can quote that.”

“Right, so all of you were friends in college. And you came together to start this place—what was the idea behind it?” Toge chimes in. “You said you studied nursing, Shoko?”

And you sit and listen as Shoko explains. Back in college, she was at the top of her class. By graduation, she’d been accepted to basically all the best med schools. She had her pick. She could do whatever she wanted. But she realized that what she wanted wasn’t that at all.

The medical field is brutal, she tells you. It’s all late nights and emotional burnout. People yelling at you, misplaced anger when you give them the bad news. Getting attached to people only to watch them waste away.

“I needed to get out before I got too far in. Maybe it was selfish,” she admits. “But I wasn’t cut out for it. I have so much admiration for medical professionals, but I couldn’t be one of them. A few clinicals and I was already feeling the consequences of giving too much of myself and getting nothing back.” She shrugs. “So I named it The Fix, as some kind of homage to the medical background. And I figured I’d just make sure it’s safe.”

Something sits heavy in her gaze as she stares at something behind you, middle distance, like she’s remembering.

“Why a college bar?” you ask, nudging the phone across the counter to pick up her voice better. “I mean, the extra security, thinking about underage drinking, dealing with a bunch of broke university kids. You could’ve just as easily opened a different bar in a more lucrative area. What was the appeal?”

She smiles crookedly. “Appeal. Well. My senior year, I was working in the local ER. And I saw… god. So many kids came in there needing their stomachs pumped, or kids who’d done laced drugs, gotten roofied, harassed, it was… I mean, it was a city university club scene. They weren’t safe. And I just felt like I needed to give them that. I couldn’t stay there as a nurse or a doctor. But I could do this.” She shrugs. “Sorry. That was probably way too much.”

“No,” you say quickly, smiling at her. “That was—that’s what we came here for. Shoko, that’s amazing. And it’s not selfish, taking care of yourself. You’re still here taking care of others.”

You don’t know Gojo well. Most of your stories about him come secondhand from Nobara, who knows him through Megumi. She paints the picture of a flamboyant, obnoxious bartender who’s more like a weird uncle to her than anything. From what you’ve seen of him at The Fix, you know this to be mostly accurate—he’s rarely serious, always taking flack from the students and giving it right back, ragging on Utahime, begging Shoko to play his playlist instead of Geto’s and knowing she’ll never cave. But now, as he listens intently to Shoko, you think you’re seeing another side of him.

There’s something troubled on his face as she speaks, like he wishes he could reach into the past and help. Like he regrets it.

The bar’s not the only thing that has a different side in the daylight.

“She’s right,” Gojo tells Shoko. It’s not much, but she looks up at him a bit surprised, something in her expression softening. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, not quite there but not quite not. “You’ve got a pretty big heart under all that RBF.” Shoko rolls her eyes, the moment over.

“What about you?” You turn to Gojo, nudging the phone his way. “Why a college bar?”

Shoko turns toward him, leaning a hip against the bar, just as curious as you are. “I think kids deserve to be kids,” he shrugs. “And if I—if we—can create a space where it’s actually safe for them to do that, it feels important.” His gaze shifts from you and Toge to the empty bar, the stage and floor and high-top tables that tomorrow will be full of music and laughter and students knowing they’re allowed to let loose here.

“There aren’t a lot of places out there that are exclusively for students,” he continues. “It’s this weird phase, college, where you’re figuring out who you are, trying to take risks without losing too much. It’s a lot. And you look at the crime rates, date rape drugs, theft, DUIs, in the city, and it’s just—this place gives them the room to learn and grow and mess around and have a good time without the danger of the… I don’t know. The outside world. Does that make sense?”

He drums his fingers on the countertop, then seems to abruptly remember the recording and stops. “I think it’s just… well, no one’s allowed to take youth away from young people. So that’s why I’m here.”

You wonder what Gojo was like in school. He majored in gender studies, which you’re pretty sure is what Todo is at least minoring in, too—you’re not sure how it’s applicable to anything, but Nobara says he likes to pull his diploma out from behind the bar and say he’s an expert in women. It seems a far cry from this rare, more subdued version of Gojo you’re seeing right now. You’d guess he’s grown quite a bit in the time he’s been here. And Shoko’s been here to witness it.

He’s not a business owner, like Shoko or Geto. And according to Nobara, he definitely doesn’t need this gig to make a living. He’s here because he wants to be.

“These last few years have been nice, in particular,” he offers. “Just ‘cause some of us have kids going here. I mean, you know the Fushiguros. Suguru’s got the twins. And I know Ino’s not Nanami’s kid, but they’re tight.”

“Wait, what?” Nanami is the bar’s primary security guy, a bouncer who never lets a fake ID fool him. He’s part of the reason this place is so safe. Toge spins to look at you as you blurt out the question, caught off guard. “Uh, sorry. I just didn’t—I didn’t know they knew each other.”

Shoko studies you with tired, intelligent eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tables have been entirely flipped. You’re the one being interrogated, wordlessly, by the woman across the counter. You feel like every thought in your head is scrawled across your face for her to read.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, unaffected. “Ino looks up to him a lot, I think. Even though he’s an old man who reads the newspaper for fun.” He snorts. “He’s a good guy, though. And Ino’s a good kid.” He finally clocks the way Shoko’s looking at you and cocks his head, appraising.

Thankfully, Toge cuts in with another question. “So, we’ll be around tomorrow for the bands and to take some photos and observe,” he explains, glancing at you to make sure he’s got the information right. “Will Geto be around?” You’d wanted both owners’ perspectives, and now that Gojo’s reminded you of the twins, you’re even more curious.

“Yeah, Suguru and Utahime will be here tomorrow night,” Shoko says. “And Nanami. Geto would totally be down to talk to you some other time, too, when it’s a bit quieter.”

“Amazing,” you say, pulling the phone back toward you. You’ll need details, follow-ups, but you need to process this first, write some things down while they’re fresh in your mind. ‘Thank you so much for this. We appreciate it.”

“Anytime, kid,” Shoko says, waving you off. “See you tomorrow.”

As you turn off the recording, Gojo and Toge have already devolved into conversation about the bands and predictions about tomorrow night. A few posters are scattered across a low table near the door, and you pick one up, smiling at the blocky lettering advertising Black Flash. There are posters advertising all of the artists, and they look amazing, straight out of one of the alt rock venues in the wider city.

“They’re sick, right?” Gojo calls, nodding to the posters. “I gotta hang those up, actually. Thanks for the reminder.”

You wave goodbye to Shoko and Gojo and lead the way out, Toge just behind you.

“Man,” he says, and you brace yourself, recognizing his teasing tone for what it is. “They said Ino’s name and you look like scared Bambi or some shit.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, elbowing him.

He holds his hands up. “I’m just living in pursuit of the truth! Like Kusakabe would want.”

“Is your camera battery charged for tomorrow?” you say in a blatant attempt at a topic change.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Toge Inumaki, chronically irresponsible student and—”

“Okay, sorry I asked, holy shit.” He sticks his tongue out at you. Then he hesitates, frowning, and then he’s pulling out his phone and calling someone in his favorites list before you can see who it is. “Hey,” he greets. “What? No, she didn’t kick me out. Hey. Hey.” You snicker and Toge glares at you, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Yutaaa,” he whines. “Do you know where my camera battery is?”

—

Even when you’re not the one on stage, you live for Fridays at The Fix. Tonight you’re doing double duty—because of the dual elimination at the end of the round, all of the competing artists are here. It’s not a requirement, but you want to see what you’re up against, and the sentiment seems to have carried. You and Toge are also in reporting mode for your project story.

The band on stage right now is… well, you can’t say new wave metal is really your thing, but it’s definitely theirs, and the audience is loving it. The Cull, you write in your notes. Look up names.

You couldn’t make out the lyrics if your life depended on it. It’s three guys and a girl, vaguely familiar, but you’re fairly certain they’re seniors and absolutely certain they’re baked right now.

“God, this is loud.” Yuta winces, turning to face you, and then his eyes flicker to something over your shoulder. You divert your attention from the stage and just catch the brief commotion in your periphery. Nanami has a kid by the elbow, and he’s escorting him out the side door, expressionless. The kid’s obviously drunk out of his mind, tripping over himself, shouting something that Nanami doesn’t bother to respond to.

Maki follows your gaze and wrinkles her nose up in distaste.

“Who’s that?”

“My cousin,” she says flatly. You glance quizzically at Megumi, who is definitely standing five feet away and not being escorted out of the bar.

“Dude, how much family do you have at this school?”

She sighs. “Just Mai and Megumi and him. Naoya. He’s a piece of shit.”

“Clearly,” Toge says. “He broke the M theme. No respect for the family alliteration.” Maki kicks him in the shin.

“One last round for The Cull!” Panda calls from the stage, and your ears slowly, very gradually stop ringing with the raging new wave music. The stage techs get to work behind Panda as he introduces the next group.

“Up next, making their debut, we’ve got a sophomore girl pop trio. Give it up for MOTION CAPTURE!”

There’s a big cheer from the bar, and you turn to see Geto grinning. Three girls take the stage, the blonde one grabbing the mic and adding, “All caps!” The girl beside her is very obviously her twin sister, though her hair is straight and dark while the blonde’s is tugged into pigtails. Light and dark. The girl on keys has a long, black bubble braid that she pushes out of the way as she settles in to play.

The blonde plugs in her electric and calls out, “Alright, I’m Nanako.” She tests out a chord, the sound reverberating, filling the bar all the way up to its high ceilings. “That’s Mimiko, that’s Remi, and we’re just here to have a good time.”

“Hey,” a voice says behind you, and you jump. You turn to find Takuma holding two drinks, offering one to you.

“Oh! Aw, thanks, you didn’t have to do that. How much do I owe you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Takuma—”

“Nothing,” he reiterates. “Anyway, The Cull. Thoughts?”

You take the drink and try it while you think on your answer—it’s the same thing Nobara got you last week. How did he know?

“I didn’t really understand any of the lyrics,” you admit, shrugging. “They weren’t bad. Not really my genre. Do you know them?”

Takuma shakes his head. “I had a gen ed once with that Rin kid, but I don’t know the other ones. These girls aren’t bad, though.” He’s right—they’ve launched into an Olivia Rodrigo cover that’s actually decent. They could work on their voice control, but they’re young and fun and having a good time and working the crowd, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

You sing along, alternating between your drink and exchanging quips with Toge and talking with Takuma. You like this new balance between your band and his, the easy camaraderie.

When the girls wrap up their set, you whoop and cheer and Kirara shamelessly watches Hakari move things off the stage, arms bare in his cut-off tank.

“You’re subtle,” Takuma tells her, and she tugs his beanie down over his face.

“Hey!”

You grab his drink before he can spill it and grin as he yanks his hat off and readjusts it. His hair is a fluffy mess underneath, and it’s kind of endearing.

When the girl pop trio is done, two guys take the stage, one in white and one in black. They’re clearly related, dark hair and pale skin and piercing eyes, and Panda introduces them as the Kamos. You don’t know if they’re brothers or cousins or what. But they’re good—they sing a few alt rock covers, play guitar.

“Damn,” Nobara sighs, a little longingly, her gaze settling on Choso as he takes over the chorus. “They’re…”

Beside her, Yuji wrinkles his nose. “Dude. That’s my half-brother.”

Nobara hums noncommittally. “And?”

He groans, tipping his head back and staring at the exposed beams of the ceiling, run through with colored lights. “Why does this always happen?”

Toge is taking more photos of them than is strictly necessary, considering your story is about the bar and not the band, but you let him have this. Scattered throughout the crowd are more kids with cameras, freshmen from the entry-level reporting classes with big underage stamps on the backs of their hands. Somebody mistook Toge for one of them earlier, and Maki hasn’t let it go all night.

You jot down atmospheric notes on your phone, little things that’ll help set the scene for your project lede, keeping an eye on the bar as much as you can. Geto has jumped in at the bar, which he usually does when the place gets busy, and Gojo is terrorizing Utahime again.

“How’d your interview go?” Takuma asks, nodding at your notes. It shouldn’t faze you so much that he remembers what you told him about your story, but you can’t help the little kick of your heart in your chest at the reminder.

“Good! Really good.” And then you catch sight of Nanami, back at the door after calling a cab for Maki’s asshat cousin. “Actually, Gojo mentioned you.”

Takuma’s brows shoot up. “Gojo? Why?”

Nanami has always seemed incredibly reserved, stony and silent in a way Takuma has never been. You don’t want to pry, but you’re also curious about the relationship between them, how they met, what they are to each other. The journalist in you wants to know.

And then there’s the part of you that just wants to know Takuma.

“Well, he was talking about the twins and the Fushiguros, and he kind of mentioned something about you knowing Nanami?” You try to sound casual, jerking your chin toward the door where Nanami is posted, like a tall, blond guard dog.

“Oh,” he says, surprised, but he shrugs, not seeming too alarmed by the question. “Yeah, I’ve known Nanami for… a long time. He’s kind of a mentor. He’s the reason I met Fushiguro in the first place, actually, ‘cause of him knowing Gojo.”

You’re considering asking how exactly they did meet when the Kamos wrap up, Nobara staring up at them dreamily, and the stage clears out for the final artist.

Whatever questions you had are thrown out the window, because you know who this is. Everyone knows who this is.

Fifth-year student and resident SoundCloud rapper, Ryomen Sukuna. Or D!SH0NORED1, according to the posters.

“Oh, here we go,” Megumi groans.

Despite his reputation on campus, you don’t know anyone who’s actually close to Sukuna, except Uruame. You mostly know that he deals at the skate park and that he’s clean about it.

And that his raps are truly, genuinely horrible.

He lets Panda give a stilted introduction and launches into a verse, mic too close to his mouth, making hand gestures or stepping to the beat of his backing track. His tattoos are even more stark and bold under the stage lights.

“My blood type’s B, your type is me, my zodiac Caprisun, it might be controversial but you’re still lookin’ at me, son!”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Kirara mutters. “I’m gonna bleach my eardrums.”

“Caprisun?” Nobara whispers. “Oh, dude.”

You might be a terrible person for thinking it, but watching this guy’s performance makes you feel infinitely better about your odds of advancing in the tournament.

His final song is a new one he introduces as Frosted Flexin’, and Maki looks like she’s about ready to keel over dead.

“Frosted flexin’, I'm the cereal king, pourin' oat milk in the mix, yeah, I'm doin' my thing,” Sukuna spits in his low voice, swaggering up to the front of the stage. You are trying so hard not to lose it.

“Sukuna being an oat milk truther wasn’t on my bingo card,” Toge says.

“Got the swag of a squirrel and the brain of a dove, call me trash, but you're still showin' me love.”

“Thoughts on the amount of swag a given squirrel possesses?” you ask Takuma. He laughs, loud and bright, and then seems to very seriously consider the question.

“I don’t know if campus squirrels have swag. They live in luxury. They probably eat better than we do,” he says. You can’t argue that—you did once see a squirrel outside your sociology class run by with a full bagel in its mouth. “The wilderness squirrels, though, I think they got a scrappy kind of swag. Like, I wouldn’t cross them.”

You nod sagely. “I want them on my team in the apocalypse.”

He nudges you with a shoulder. “Am I on your team?”

You glance at him, make a show of looking him up and down. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think he’s blushing a little. “I don’t know. How fast can you climb a tree?”

Sukuna is nearing the end of his song, now, saying, “Off-tune, out of sync, yeah, I know it's a sin, but you'll play it back twice 'cause I still might win.”

He actually, physically drops the mic and Hakari swoops in and catches it, clearing his throat and saying into it, “Yep, friendly reminder that equipment’s expensive! Everyone give our last artist of the night a hand, yeah?”

There’s scattered applause and more than a few confused faces as Sukuna lopes off stage, and Panda hops back up to explain the voting system for anyone who wasn’t here last week. “QR codes to the Google form are posted around the bar,” he says.

Out of all eight artists, the bottom two will be eliminated. You’re nervous. But voting was open last week too. You can’t vote as a member of the band, and it’s all done through school Google accounts to avoid double votes or the link getting sent out to non-students.

“Open until tomorrow morning,” Panda reminds the audience. “Results and second round schedules will be posted on the Instagram at some point tomorrow! That’s it for this Friday at The Fix. Have a great night, folks. Get home safe.”

Gojo whoops dramatically from the bar, and Panda gives him a weird look before getting off stage.

Your friends start heading toward the door, and you grab Toge and excuse yourself to catch Geto at the bar. Gojo sees you first. “The newsies!” he calls.

“Like the musical?” you say in lieu of a greeting. “Banger soundtrack.”

“I could dance on newspapers,” Toge says.

“Geto!” The Fix’s other owner smiles at you, soft and genuine. Part of his dark hair is pulled back and the rest hangs loose over his shoulders, a stark contrast to Gojo—like the Kamos, you think, or like Nanako and Mimiko. Light and dark. “We were wondering if you’d be down to set up a time to talk. Has Gojo told you about our story at all?”

Geto smiles, drying a glass and leaning against the bar. “He told me he’s gonna be the front page of every paper in the city, which I assume is a horrid exaggeration,” he says. Gojo looks affronted. “Shoko mentioned you’re doing a feature for class, though. I’d be happy to.”

“We have our Monday night class time open for field reporting the week after this one,” Toge offers. “Will you be around?”

“I will indeed. Utahime, too, if you want to speak to both of us. And Gojo won’t be here, which might be beneficial for you.”

“Suguru,” Gojo gasps, pretending to stagger back. “You wound me.”

“Mhm,” he says, unaffected. “What time works best for you two?”

You set up a time to interview Geto and Utahime, then say goodbye to him and Gojo and run to catch up to your friends. It’s a nice night, and since you didn’t have to deal with instruments, you all decided to walk.

“How goes the… journalisming? Journaling?” Takuma asks when you fall into step beside him.

“Good, all good. Reporting is maybe a better word, but valiant effort.”

“I like journalisming. Can you just submit words to the official dictionary? I’m gonna do it.”

“No,” Toge says, and you blink. He shrugs. “What? I tried once. But the only submission form I could find was for the Bureau of Linguistical Reality and it wasn’t like, a legitimate dictionary form. There’s all these requirements, it’s horrible.”

“What word did you try to submit?” you ask warily, not sure if you actually want to know.

“Some things,” Toge says solemnly, “are better kept secret.”

The night is hazy, only small rays of moonlight piercing through the cloud cover, and you make your way through the campus roads guided only by the streetlamps and Maki’s reliable sense of direction.

Part of you wants to ask Takuma to come over, or Yuji to insist the band come over to his place again, just so you can keep talking. But you have work to do, things to write and transcribe, lists of follow-up questions to make, and that’s only your workload for this one class. You still have exams this week, and you need to study now so you can balance it with rehearsals. Assuming you actually advanced to round two, that is.

And part of you worries you might be taking this too fast, too. You don’t typically integrate people into your life so quickly. You like spending time with Takuma and Kirara and Yuji and even Megumi, though he’s pretty quiet. You just don’t want to jump in too far too fast.

At your place, you say your goodbyes and head up to your room to get some work done. Toge uploads his photos and puts them in your project folder on Drive. And you spend the night doing what you do best, aside from drumming—writing.

Youth for the young: JU alumni run safest live music bar in city limits

You don’t even notice the time until it’s past one in the morning, and you’re nearly asleep at your desk. The dark has crept across your room, the only source of light the desk lamp and your laptop screen. Finally, you push the computer shut and flick off the light, flopping into your bed. A few missed messages pop up when you hold your phone up, wincing at the bright screen.

takuma: just letting you know i made the treacherous journey home safely takuma: many miles of hardship takuma: thought i was gonna die halfway there

You smirk and type out a reply.

you: did kirara have to save you takuma: i resent that takuma: (yes) takuma: wait why are you up it’s so late you: journalisming you: why are YOU up takuma: travel adrenaline takuma: (coding project due monday that i just started) you: TAKUMA

The next text to come through is a voice note, and you can’t help smiling as you hit play and his voice fills the open air of your bedroom.

“Okay, in my defense, I thought it was due next Monday. Which maybe isn’t my defense because it means I just can’t read due dates, or maybe I just can’t read, but I thought I had a lot more time and then one of my classmates texted me asking for help on this block of code and I told him I hadn’t started and he was like oh my god, Ino, it’s due in three days, and I was like no it’s not, we have so much time—turns out we don’t have so much time, so I’m over here staring at my screen until the vessels in my eyes pop—”

He yawns, and it makes you yawn too, despite the screen separating you. “Sorry, agh. Anyway, I have to write this program that uses some kind of randomized generator…”

You find your eyelids fighting gravity, exhaustion washing over you as he explains the project and all the reasons he’s not that worried about getting it done by Monday because actually he’s on a roll and it turns out the code isn’t that different from a similar project he did last year so he can just lift the main blocks over and wow, he’s tired, and you stifle a laugh as the voice memo comes to an end and he says, “Okay, gosh, I should go to bed. You should go to bed. Stop journalisming, Skip, get some sleep. G’night.”

You grin, plugging your phone in and sending him a voice memo of your own.

“I’m done journalisming. Still haven’t written that story on you, though. Night, Takuma.”

The last thing you see before you fall asleep is his reaction to your text. It’s a thumbs up, but after a few seconds, it disappears, replaced with a heart.

—

“I’m gonna die,” Nobara groans.

You’ve been checking Instagram every hour on the hour for the bracket results, but to no avail. The five of you are sprawled out in the living room, a Fleetwood Mac record spinning in the corner, cups of coffee and tea and scattered remnants of breakfast dotting the table and the floor and the windowsill.

You have post notifications on for the Battle of the Bands Instagram page, but you check anyway, as if you somehow missed it.

“Okay,” Maki says. “Cut it out. No phones.”

“Maki,” Toge groans. “How do we live with the suspense?”

“Go around and give a rundown of your week?” Yuta suggests.

“Aw, highs and lows, it’s like elementary school,” Nobara says happily. “I’ll go first! High: annoying slacker guy in my marketing class got a shit grade on the group project and the rest of us got As. Low: Skipper won’t give me Ino lore.”

“Lore,” you mimic. “I don’t have any lore. We’ve known each other for like, two weeks.”

“That’s enough time for lore,” she insists. “What’s your high? Ino?”

“Okay, jeez,” you say. “Maybe it’s that Toge and I had a really good first interview for our project story.”

Toge blinks at you.

“Fine, maybe it’s Takuma.”

Nobara grins in a way you can only describe as malicious. “Okay,” you say, pointing at her. “Low: whatever that is.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“My low is Skipper bullying me in class,” Toge says. “And my high is she said she’d be my partner, so I’m not gonna fail.”

Yuta nods sagely. “Maki?”

“Uhh,” she says eloquently. “My parents won’t stop pestering me about fall break. But I aced a test on Thursday in anthro, so there’s that.”

“You’re not going home, right?” you ask. She shakes her head resolutely. Maki doesn’t go home unless she absolutely has to—one thing she and Mai actually have in common.

All of your phones go off at once, a mix of buzzes and beeps and Apple watchfaces lighting up, and Nobara screams. “I can’t look!” she cries. “Someone tell me!”

You click on the notification and pull up the post, heart racing.

The first slide is a generic Battle of the Bands announcement with the cool ass graphics you’ve been seeing on the posters. Whoever designs those needs a raise. The second image is the bracket for next Friday, with the first knockout round of three—only one group will move on to the finals. “Who is it?” Nobara asks anxiously, pacing the room. “Oh god, I’m gonna die.”

“Shibuya Incident,” you read off, unable to keep the smile from your face. “Angel.” Nobara groans overdramatically. “And the Kamos.”

You swipe to the next screen, heart in your throat. OCTOBER 18, it reads. THE CULL. CURSED TECHNIQUE. BLACK FLASH.

“Oh my god!” you scream. “Oh my god, we made it!”

Toge yanks you to your feet and starts hopping around the living room, and Nobara shrieks with joy as you pull her into the celebration. Even Maki and Yuta are sporting wide smiles as they watch the three of you bounce around like kids on a sugar rush.

“What, no Sukuna?” Maki teases when you’ve calmed down. Toge clears his throat and does his best impression, going as far as to make his pants sag a little around his waist.

“Frosted flexin’, I’m the cereal king, pourin’… uh, duh nuh nuh, something doin’ my thing,” he says in a deep voice. “Uh… squirrel? Somethin’ fuego, that’s Spanish, uhhh…”

“Oh my god, let me look it up,” Nobara cackles, pulling up SoundCloud. “It’s I’m the king of bad decisions, got a throne made of Legos, took a bite of my mic and said these bars are fuego.”

Yuta physically winces. “Does he really sag his pants like that?”

Toge shrugs. “It felt right in the moment.”

“Wait, who’s the other one eliminated, then?” you ask, running through the bands in your head. Yours, Takuma’s, Black Flash, the Kamos…

“Motion Capture,” Maki says.

“No, it’s all caps. You have to shout it. MOTION CAPTURE!” Toge hollers. Nobara snorts.

You aren’t entirely surprised, but you have a feeling the girls aren’t too put out about it. They’re young, too—they’ll have their time to shine eventually.

You grin, flopping back onto the couch. “Okay, rehearsal when? Tonight?”

“Yeah, I have to go to a friend’s to figure some stuff out for a project, but I’ll be back at like… five?” Yuta says.

“Oh, fuck, I gotta go too!” Nobara says, darting toward the stairs.

“Group project?” Maki asks.

“Shopping! I gotta pick Miwa up in like, ten minutes!”

Maki rolls her eyes fondly. Yuta stands up and grabs his bag, heading toward the entryway, and the rest of you gravitate instinctually to the kitchen. Nobara is out the door moments later with a wave and a shout, and Toge grins.

“What,” Maki deadpans, not a question.

“I printed memes to hide on her Polaroid wall. Be right back.”

You snort, turning your attention to the window to watch Nobara cruise down the block. The view of her sleek, small car is interrupted by Yuta’s jungle of plants.

“I hope they’re not too cold,” he says, frowning as he tugs a jacket on over his white hoodie. “Do they look okay to you?”

“Yeah,” you say, pointing to the one in the white, ovular pot. “Especially this one, it’s getting so big! What’s his name, Snorlax?” Yuta had a phase where he named at least six plants in a row after Pokèmon.

“No, that one’s Rika, after that TV show,” Maki corrects, not looking up. Yuta blinks, looks between her and the plant, whose vines have started to creep up the window. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Both of your eyes on her have her looking up from her phone, expression flat and unaffected. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I didn’t know… anyone paid attention.”

Maki shrugs. “You talk to them out loud.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Yuta laughs and waves one last time before he walks out, closing the door behind him. You count to five in your head and then whirl on Maki, entirely unable to keep the shit-eating grin off your face.

“Kowalski, status report.”

She blinks at you. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I know, just—on what? What happened?”

You groan, dragging the heels of your hands down your face. “Maki. Please.” You gesture wildly between her and the door, wondering if she’s genuinely this oblivious or if she’s just as good a liar as Mai. “Are you—did we not just witness the same interaction? Jesus, Maki, put the boy out of his misery!”

Seeing Maki frazzled is not a common occurrence. The most agitated you ever see her is talking about her family or trading passive aggressive jabs with Mai. This is an entirely new sort of disarray—she’s flustered.

“I—what?! I can’t do that! And he’s not miserable. He’s that nice to everyone.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands with your elbows on the counter. “Maki! He likes you. And your face is telling me you like him back.”

She scoffs, turning her head down and crossing her arms defensively. “I’m not messing things up by dating my bandmate. We live together, Skip, he’s my best friend, if things got messy—”

You hold up a hand. “First of all, offensive. I’m your best friend. Second of all, I hear no denial. Also, it won’t get messy. You are the two most mature people in this house and you know how to separate personal from practical. If anything, it’s gonna kill the vibes of the band and the house if you just keep stewing in the sexual tension.”

“Oh my god,” Maki groans. “There. Is. No. Sexual. Tension.”

“There’s always sexual tension,” Toge announces, walking in and jumping up onto the countertop, legs swinging. He looks between the two of you innocently. “What are we talking about?”

“You might be of some help, actually,” you say, turning to Toge with your hands clasped.

“Uh, actually? Not oh, Toge, you’re always so helpful, thank god you live with me and keep my life interesting—”

“Nevermind.”

“No, pleeease,” Toge insists, sticking out his lower lip. “What?” His gaze shifts to Maki, who’s blushing a furious red. His mouth turns into a small O. “This is about Yuta?”

You didn’t think she could get any more scarlet, but here she is.

“Does everyone think that?” she groans, throwing her head back in exasperation.

Toge shrugs. “I thought we were all just quietly skirting around it until you both snapped.”

“Nobara doesn’t skirt around anything,” Maki says.

“Well, there’s no way she doesn’t know,” you point out. “Maybe she just respects both of you enough to leave it alone.”

“Hah!” Toge snorts, poking you in the ribs. “That means she doesn’t respect you. She wants the Ino lore.”

“I’m gonna tell Nobara about the memes.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Abruptly, you realize you never got around to Yuta for highs and lows, what with the chaos of the brackets dropping. “Ah, guys,” you say. “We missed Yuta.” You pull up the house group chat.

you: YUTA DROP YOUR HIGH AND LOW IN THE CHAT you: YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN freak no. 1: yes you are utah: haha aw that’s nice utah disliked a message from freak no. 1 utah: uhh low is maybe that toge keeps leaving memes all over our room. like i keep finding them tucked in my notebooks and everything freak no. 1: SLANDER freak no. 1: LIBEL you: not the same thing freak no. 1: SHUT UP utah: high is someone remembers the names of my plants!! :) nobara: Sorry, using voice text while I drive. Who knows the names of your plants? You and God? utah: maki! :)

“Okay, well, respond,” Toge says, poking Maki in the side. She glares at him and likes Yuta’s message.

“Guys,” she says exasperatedly. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Does he know?”

And you’re not sure, honestly. You don’t know that Yuta is even aware of his own feelings, let alone aware that Maki reciprocates them. You shrug helplessly. “How about… ask?”

“Jesus,” Maki says.

“Not him, Yuta.”

Maki socks Toge in the shoulder and levels him with a disdainful look. “You are the bane of my existence.”

“And the object of all your desires,” Toge proclaims in a horrendous Bridgerton accent. He made you watch all of it with him in two days. Maki refused.

Now, she just shoves him, and he squeals as he falls off the kitchen counter.

“Children,” you sigh. “Do you need to be separated?”

“Yes!”

—

“Why is this so hard?” You stand with your feet planted on Takuma’s skateboard, which is confoundingly, entirely different than balancing atop your longboard. “Oh my god.” You lurch forward as the board rolls a bit to the left, unable to stifle the squeal that comes out of your mouth.

Takuma stops it with one foot.

“Your center of balance is lower on a longboard,” he laughs. “Like, here.” His hands wrap around your waist and you tense under his grip, and he immediately freezes, jerking his arms back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No! No, it’s okay,” you blurt, sheepish. “I just wasn’t expecting it, I—here.” You try to fight the blush furiously rising in your cheeks as you take his wrists in both hands, putting them back where they were. You clear your throat, suddenly too warm. “Um. Okay, so—do you turn the same way?”

“Pretty much. You just lean,” Takuma says, and you shift your weight to your heels, letting him steady you. “It’s a bit harsher than you would on a longboard, though. Unless you want me to send you right into kickturns?” His tone is teasing and you pretend to consider, tapping a finger against your chin.

“Mm. Maybe later.”

You’ve been at the skate park for a while now, and you’ve only recently ditched your longboard for the skateboard. Takuma brought the extra board you saw hanging on his wall the other day, and he uses it to demonstrate while you practice riding back and forth, getting a hold on your balance. After you feel like you can make it a good distance without pinwheeling your arms, you come to a staggered stop beside him.

A flash of blue-green hair grabs your attention, and you watch a kid in a lightning bolt hoodie slip under the ramps. The park has been pretty deserted today aside from a few guys doing tricks in the pit, a chilly Sunday with the sunlight muted by the clouds.

“Ooh, drug deal in action.” You poke Takuma in the side.

“Ah, probably Sukuna. He deals here all the time.” Sukuna’s business is one of those things everyone’s aware of but nobody talks about. He’s consistent and pretty safe, as far as drug dealers go, but he’ll deny any involvement while smoking a joint if he has to.

“Who’s space buns?”

“Uhh…” Takuma narrows his eyes, and the guy slips out again. “Damn, that was fast. Oh, that’s Hajime. Another senior, I think. They hate each other. Fastest deals I’ve ever seen.”

“I wonder how much of his songwriting is just… while he’s really, really high,” you muse. Swag of a squirrel doesn’t strike you as a particularly levelheaded thought, but hey, it’s certainly memorable.

Takuma leans in and says conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure I heard him dropping bars here the other day when I was with Yuji.”

You snort and look up at one of the smallest ramps, one you think you could handle without falling on your face, and point to it with a raised brow.

“Oh, moving up in the world?” Takuma kicks his board up and starts walking over, and you do the same. Before you put the board down at the top of the ramp, though, you hold it up to the light, noticing a few short, white hairs caught on the surface.

“Is this… fur?” Maybe there was a cat hiding out somewhere when you were over. Kirara seems like she’d have a cat.

Takuma sighs. “Yeah, the dogs shed like crazy. It gets everywhere. I don’t think I even left that on the ground.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at him until he looks back at you. “Dogs?”

“What? Yeah, Fushiguro’s—”

“Fushiguro has dogs? Dogs plural? In the house?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” you cry. “What? Oh my god! Where were they on Wednesday? How many? What are their names?”

Takuma leans back on the rail next to the ramp, grinning. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. Oh my god. They’re so cute. Tsumiki had them Wednesday, I think. Mandated auntie time. Do you wanna meet ‘em?”

“Do I want to meet them?” you repeat, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Uh, yeah. Are they home? Oh my god. I love dogs.”

“I couldn’t tell,” he deadpans, but he’s smiling still. “Yeah, they’re home. And you can meet them if you go down this ramp without dying.”

“You’re cruel,” you say, situating yourself on the board. “But I will. And then I’ll meet the dogs and become their best friend and they’ll love me more than you and Megumi combined.”

“Confident.” He comes up beside you, checking your stance. The ramp didn’t look steep or long at all from your vantage point across the park, but now that you’re atop the board, it feels suddenly very steep and very long. “You got it. Just don’t panic, keep your stance.” He drops his own board and cruises down the ramp, hardly even trying.

“Okay, go!” he calls from the bottom. “C’mon, Skip, the dogs are waiting.”

“Oh, god,” you murmur, the wind catching your words and whisking them away. You ball your hands into fists and push off, planting your foot back on the board and trying to keep your knees bent, but not too stiff, as you careen down the ramp. Don’t panic, keep your stance. You’re at the bottom in what feels like nanoseconds, and the sudden shift from ramp to flat ground has you stumbling off the board with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak of alarm.

“Nice!” Takuma laughs as he catches you, the board rolling a few more feet ahead. His arm is wrapped around your front, the other holding you up by the shoulder, and this time you don’t tense under his hands.

“Thanks,” you say a little breathlessly, grinning, the tiny spike of adrenaline making you almost lightheaded. He lets his hands drop when you’re steady on your feet, and part of you mourns the warmth a little. But there are more pressing matters at hand. “So, about those dogs?”

You opt for your longboard on the way back down your street, cruising along beside Takuma, who has his extra board tucked under his arm. You’ve got a lot to do tonight, all the last-minute preparation for another crazy week, but you can and will drop everything to pet a puppy. Or two. Always.

And they’re actual angels. Big, fluffy angels on earth, one white and one black, and they’re all over you the second you open the door.

“Hi!” you say happily, sinking down to their level. The white one immediately tries to burrow into your lap. “Oh, hello! You’re so nice, aren’t you?” You glance up at Takuma. “Where’s Megumi?” You grab the white one’s collar and check the tag—Shiro.

“Shiro thinks she’s a tiny dog,” he says, bending down to ruffle the fur behind her ears. “Uh, Fushiguro’s at the animal clinic. He works there Sundays. And Tuesdays, I think.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, he’s a vet student. You didn’t know?”

“I did not.” The black one is licking your face, and you giggle and check his tag, too. Kuro. “Hi, Kuro. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s got such a soft spot for animals,” Takuma says as he kicks off his shoes. “You should see when they both try to sleep in his little twin bed. It’s ridiculous.”

“I love them,” you say, burying your face in Kuro’s scruff. “Hi, doggies. You’re awful cute, you know that? Mhm. Yes you are.”

When you finally look up again, Kuro’s cold nose nudging insistently at your palm, Takuma is leaning against the wall, looking down at you with his phone discreetly angled your way. “Takuma!”

He laughs, not bothering to hide it anymore, very clearly taking photos of you with the dogs. “It’s cute!” he insists. “I’ll send them to you. Proof for Fushiguro of your master plan to make them like you more than him.”

“And you,” you remind him.

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

You gesture pointedly to the two dogs, who are all over you and not him. It’ll be a nightmare trying to get all of Shiro’s white fur off your black jacket later, but it’s worth it.

“You’re new,” he says. “New scent. It’s the novelty factor. I am their favorite.”

“You sure? I’m pretty hard to compete with.”

He smiles, looking from you to the photos he took of you and the dogs. “Yeah,” he says. “You are.”

—

The first half of the new week goes by in a rushed routine of classes, homework, and rehearsals, each night ending with you collapsing into bed, new and old lyrics fighting for dominance in the back of your mind. Sticks re-taped and drum heads re-tuned, assignments turned in and drafts edited. Your classes are ramping up as midterms approach, and Yuta bounces between his own work and poking his head into everyone’s rooms, making sure they don’t forget about dinner.

Toge follows through on his snack run promise, and the two of you spend hours on Tuesday afternoon trading two different flavored bags of Doritos back and forth, Toge writing photo captions while you edit your story lede.

Takuma, Hakari, and Kirara have offered to help Cursed Technique record a single on Wednesday night, and the five of you have been drilling the new song you wrote up, down, and sideways.

Finally, Wednesday arrives, and you’re all crammed into the recording studio space, instruments set up and headsets tuned in.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nobara says to Hakari on the other side of the glass. She taps a finger on the mic in demonstration, and you hear it in your own headphones.

“Great,” he says. “Skipper?”

“Skipper? I hardly know her,” Toge says, earning a harmless smack upside the head from Yuta and a not harmless smack upside the head from Maki.

“I will throw these at you,” you tell him, holding up your sticks. Toge sticks his bottom lip out, pouting.

A snicker from beside you draws your attention back to Takuma, kneeling just beside the throne as he adjusts the kick mic. He has you hit it a few times while Hakari monitors the levels. You feel oddly self-conscious like this, him looking up at you, but then he smiles and it’s not strange at all. It’s stupid how fast he can put you at ease with a look.

“Nice,” he says. “Okay, that should work, yeah, Hakari?”

It’s Kirara who answers, “Yeah, you’re good.”

Takuma stands up, claps his hands together once, and looks at you. “Okay. Kill it, Skip.”

“Yessir.” You salute him with a stick and he makes his way to the other room, closing the door behind him.

“All good?” Yuta asks, glancing at each of you in turn before giving Hakari a thumbs up. It’s strange to be on this side of the glass, to think about your music being played back, to think about it on Spotify, out in the world.

“Next Fix,” Takuma says into the mic, locking eyes with you through the window. “Take one in three, two…”

The song starts out simple. You click your sticks together near the mic, on two and four, while Maki lays down a four-bar loop.

Yuta keeps glancing at Maki while she plays, utterly unaware, and the look on his face is so soft you want to shake Maki by the shoulders until she does something about it.

Nobara’s got her eyes closed with the headset over her ears and her hands around the mic, entirely engrossed in the song.

“It’s comin’ on, comin’ strong, spinnin’ up out of the blue, mmm,” she sings, stretching out the vowels. “And I’m on the ground, bleedin’ out, until my next fix of you, ooh.”

Now you start up with a light rock beat, closed hat and a bit of a dragging buzz on the snare hits. Just as you transition into the beat, Toge comes in with some low chords and Yuta moves down the line in syncopated sixteenths.

Hakari is nodding approvingly and Takuma has a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help smiling back.

“I need it like a lung,” Nobara sings, swaying a bit. “I need it like a light. It’s got me twisted up. I need you here tonight, tonight, tonight, oh, oh, I wanna—”

And this part is your favorite—Nobara sings each two-syllable phrase while you pound on the toms twice, emphasizing it with the kick, and then the backup vocals echo her. Get my (get my) next fix (next fix) of you (of you, of you, of you.)

Kirara pumps her fist in the air twice, in time with the beat, and your bandmates can’t keep the smiles off their faces. You’ve got something here, you really do. This might be your best one yet.

When the song’s over, Nobara whoops and tugs off the headphones, jumping around the cramped studio space with a grin on her face. “That was so cool! Oh my god. Guys, we sound good. We actually sound good.”

“Damn,” Kirara calls. “Okay, girl drummer. Good shit.”

“Not bad for a first run,” Maki admits, adjusting her bass strap over her shoulder. “Do we wanna try recording backups separately at all?”

“Good call.” Takuma nods. “Let’s run that again without the backups and record them over, see what happens.” He’s in full producer mode, flipping switches, colored lights reflecting in his eyes as he and Hakari talk shop away from the mic. He’s good at this, you realize, running sessions like this, making sure things go where they need to go, that everyone’s heard, that things get done. It’s a little bit like watching him skateboard, or seeing him on stage. There’s a confidence to him here, a smooth, easy energy. He’s in his element.

“Alright,” he says after a minute. “Let’s hear that again.”

And you play it again. And again. And again. And you are so in love with this moment, with your band, with a couple rowdy kids on the other side of the window, the rasp in Nobara’s voice and the expression on Yuta’s face and Maki’s obliviousness and Toge’s consistent, head-banging keys, and your drums and your words and the music, and the lyrics feel right to you.

You need this like a lung.

directory | prev. |

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32

a/n: GUYS. loml @shutuppeter is so downbad for soundcloud rapper sukuna that she's writing fanfic of my fanfic😭 credits for frosted flexin' are all hers LMFAO so go check that out (MDNI for that one though).

yutamaki nation rise. also, i kinda love this fic. there may be spinoffs for other characters in the works...

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themindofachronicdaydreamer · 3 days ago

Text

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | previous | next

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 7. 𝓜𝓐𝓣𝓒𝓗𝓘𝓝𝓖 𝓟𝓙𝓢 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 0 (just smau!)

TAGLIST (currently open!):

@kentozwife @inthedarkshadows000 @yoimiya-m @makeshiftproject @frogfishie

@therealanxiety @kaged-kitty @pellucid-constellations @fuckisthatahotghost

@harryzcherry @briezy04764

*gasp* EX BF????

do u think i should add twitters or priv instas to get a better look into yns mind or is that overwhelming idk lmk also toji ... he obv noticed gojos stare & yn/toji have known from the start their fooling around isnt too serious :P toji likes yn & feels oddly protective over her dwwww he just doesnt wanna get too committed rn hes busy and knows he isnt ready for a relationship idk if that makes sense but i can clarify whateverrr

hope you enjoyed!! ilyyyyy <333

#jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #fanfic #smau #jjk smau #jjk au #college au #fluff #angst #jjk #jjk fluff #suguru geto #jjk x reader #gojo smau

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frogchiro · 3 days ago

Note

If you're still up to do some college au! Could we have a part 2 for the krauser one where there's next time/next attempt to make reader his? I've been living for the krauser content especially the college au! It's so unserious and entertaining to read! <3

Ahh thank you dear! I honestly love the college au too! I've never done anything like this before so it's like a breath of fresh air for me ;;

Tbh I see Krauser as being just as relentless in his advances as Leon just less pathetic and whiny; I wouldn't exactly call him a macho man but he definitely considers himself to be a 'real man' (whatever the fuck that means) and real men don't whine for pussy! (at least that's what he kept telling himself lol)

It's not stalking, he swears it's not, but maybe it's a strange coincidence that he knows where you usually hang out alone or with Ashley or even with the rest of your friends. Jack is just very aware of his surroundings and he kind of just gravitates towards you (h/c) head and your sweet giggle whenever he hears it, it just comes natural for him.

This was one of those times where he accidentally spotted you sitting in a cozy little cafe, tucked away from the usual hustle and bustle of the town so it was much less crowded. His huge and bulky figure was hard to miss for obvious reasons, his face bisected by the gnarly scars even more so, but you were quite engrossed in whatever you were doing on your laptop to the point where you completely missed the moment of Krauser ordering his coffee and standing right over you, only noticing him when his large body threw a shadow over you.

He almost grinned when your surprised face morphed into a small, questioning frown, not smiling but not grimacing either which Jack took for a damn good sign and using the opportunity he asked if he could sit with you to which you agreed, your confusion growing. It's not like you will tell him to fuck off outright, it's not like Jack did anything bad to you, it's just that he hangs with the not so pleasant crowd and you still remember his advances towards you and Ashley from a few nights ago.

I feel like he'd try to change his approach to you a bit! He's still a cocky sleaze, don't get me wrong; ego through the damn roof and he still jerks off to the upskirt pics Luis took of you but after he realized that you shoot down those very direct advances immediately he knew it was time for a change of tactics, he didn't want to spook you away.

He remembered how Luis gushed and praised you to high heaven about how you helped with his paper, how it was only thanks to you that he didn't fail the subject and it was what got Jack thinking. You obviously shut down any very direct flirting, but what seemed receptive to helping others...Maybe you will help him? Krauser is very much aware that he's not the smartest, in fact he's pretty sure that the only thing keeping him from failing is his old man's money and influence and his sports scholarship, so for him to ask you to tutor him wouldn't be that out of the blue...

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #college au #resident evil 4 x reader #resident evil 4 #jack krauser x reader #krauser x reader #jack krauser #re4 krauser #major krauser

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pinksugarscrub · 1 day ago

Note

Hi, pinkie!! This may be weird but happy birthday :D wishing you all the best things and wishes 🫶🏻

(Silly Hobie wishes you happy birthday as well)

(Look at him being silly)

Like The Movies

Hobie Brown x fem! reader (college au)

Hi my love! 🤍 Thank you so much for the well wishes. It isn't weird!! 😠 Who told you that?? As promised, "loser" Hobie to celebrate. (I love my silly little guy. I'm putting him in my pocket).

I just want to say, to everyone who asked what would happen if I didn't win ( @hyperfix-wip )- I guess we'll never know 🤷‍♀️

word count: 1,7k+

cw: dorks, the lot of them

The smell of butter soaked popcorn has been stuck to Hobie’s clothes for hours now. Along with a straining headache. Rubbing his temples he tries to focus on the ugly red carpet instead of the screen at the cash register.

Ten more minutes then he was home free. Excluding the quick stop he was going to make to the video game store across the mall. The missing piece for his game cube was finally in stock.

He was debating grabbing pizza from the food court too but with his roommate gone for the weekend what was the point? Hobie really wishes Ned well but he’s disappointed that he’ll be spending his time off without his best friend.

It’s times like these that he wishes he was closer to his family. Deciding and then being accepted to attend university here in New York is a mixed blessing.

He’s learning incredible things, meeting new people, and living on his own. On the other hand, he’s still new to the US and its customs.

It’s exhausting after a while and he can’t even be comforted by anything other than the things he brought with him from Camden.

A beep from his watch alerts him that his shift is over and Hobie doesn’t waste a second in clocking out and discarding the thing he calls a uniform. He’s still polite of course. Says his goodbyes and wishes everyone a happy holiday despite not celebrating Thanksgiving himself.

He must look tired because most shoppers steer clear of him. At the most he’ll receive two or three compliments on his outfit. Or maybe they’re just preoccupied with the sales and discounts going on in various stores.

He mutters an apology as he brushes past a group to step inside the brightly colored store with posters and ads for the newest game. Hobie has learned Christmas lights in November is normal. He cringes as he hears a popular pop song play through the speakers. It’s maybe the twentieth time today he’s listened to it.

“Hobie, hey! Give me a sec.” Ganke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Gesturing to the box Hobie presumes holds his order. “I’ll ring you up as soon as I can.”

“Course, no rush.”

And Hobie means that sincerely. There’s more than four customers in line with a dozen more circling figures and t-shirts. He may be tired but he knows well enough how demanding customer service can be.

To add a little more reassurance to Ganke’s mind, Hobie points to a random section of games. “I wanted to take a look around anyway.”

Ganke nods with a grin that never seems to fall from his face.

Hobie would consider this store his second home. He is on a first name basis with Ganke and he was even invited out by the younger boy to a flea market. They both shared a love for retro and vintage. Hobie met a friend of his too, Miles. It was the most fun he’s had since his arrival in August.

A sigh leaves his lips as the section he had planned to browse is blocked by a group of teenagers and yes, he himself is a teenager but something about American air made people lose their common courtesy.

He spins, planning to give up and just wait by the counter when something smacks into his chest. Not hard but definitely strong enough that the person who walked into him is sent stumbling back.

An apology spills from his lips and he’s met with one himself. The air from his lungs leaves his chest as he comes face to face with a girl. He knows you.

He knows because he shares a music composition class with you. He remembers because he embarrassed himself in front of the class. Hobie’s only ever written baselines so orchestral music has been a struggle for him.

“Why are you sorry?” You laugh softly. Fixing the bag on your shoulder full of pins and charms. “I bumped into you.”

“Are you ok?” You ask and Hobie isn’t sure what to do next.

He’s mortified that the only interactions he’s had with you (which are far and few) are so embarrassing.

Hobie may or may not think you’re cute. It would be stupid of him not to notice you.

It’s not like he has a chance with such a pretty girl but he can at least not look like a fool in front of you every chance he gets.

“Uh yeah,” he falters, “I’m fine. Are you…ok?”

“Me?” You point to yourself in confusion.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “Did I nick you or something?”

“Oh.” You laugh again as you take in the patches and safety pins on his vest. “I think we’re good.”

When you stand on the tips of your toes Hobie understands what you mean and his ears grow hot with embarrassment.

Hobie is aware he’s tall enough to be a basketball player but compared to you he’s never realized quite how tall he is.

You smile and think about how cute his reaction is. Hobie isn’t shy, not by any means. You’ve seen him with his friends around campus. But you can understand how being out of your element can leave you walking on eggshells.

Classical music is the soul of your being. Movie scores to be more specific, not to mention game sources. You haven’t quite decided what route to take but for now you’re content with going back to the basics and writing Bach inspired pieces.

“Hey, I really liked your presentation. Did you get a good score?”

“I did, yeah.”

Hobie thinks you must be lying to avoid making him feel bad. The professor too because he earned almost full marks.

He doesn’t understand why when his piece was so…awful. Nothing like yours or Flash Thompson’s.

“That’s great! I liked the third movement. It reminded me of um…” You snapped your fingers. “Bowser’s theme. You know, from the first Mario game?”

Hobie doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but he laughs.

“What? I’m serious!” You grin as you reach for your phone. Insistent to make your point and be proven right.

“You can’t be.” Hobie almost guffaws. “It was a dumpster fire!”

“Was not!” You argue. Bringing your phone up to his ear after furiously typing.

Hobie looks at you in surprise. Stuck between your outstretched hand and your determined face. After a supportive nod from you and a smile he slowly leans down to listen.

You pause on certain points of the video. Rambling on about concepts the two of you have learned but obviously you know better.

The video takes exactly three minutes and fifty three seconds but you managed to lengthen the amount of time it would normally take to finish and soon enough he realizes you’re not just cute. You’re cute and you like games.

You weren’t trying to make him feel better you were making honest and valid points.

Now he feels like an ass for laughing so he’s quick to wave his white flag in surrender.

“Alright, alright. You win love. Has anyone ever told you you’re a bold little thing?”

“I have been called that on occasion, yes.”

Hobie hums. His lips tugging into a smile. “Don’t ever change.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you return his smile. “I won’t, promise.”

“What are you in here for if you don’t mind me asking? Aside from analyzing my music.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you answer. Feeling giddy. “There’s a poster I’ve been looking for and- tada.”

Hobie chuckles at the glee on your face as you hold up your prize.

“Is that right? Congratulations.”

“Thank you kind sir,” you giggle. “I was just heading over to pay when I bumped into you.”

“Guess it was a good thing I kept you occupied,” Hobie replies. “Line is gone now.”

You turn your head. Peeking over his shoulder to see the register is indeed free now.

“It appears so.” You tap his shoulder with the end of the rolled up poster. “Thank you again. You’ve done me a great honor sir.”

You relish in how much you’ve made Hobie laugh in the last few minutes you’ve talked. You’re disappointed this all has to end now.

Hobie snickers before bowing mockingly. “After you.”

You curtsey in return before walking over to Ganke. You’ve seen him a few times. Normally you come to the mall on weekends not weekdays but with the holidays coming up you had a few days off. Best to take advantage right?

Declining a bag you wait patiently for Ganke to finish the transaction but then he interrupts you from paying.

“Wait hold on, you have a birthday reward today.”

“Do I? Huh, I didn’t know the store had one.”

“Well, now your total comes down to less than ten dollars.”

“Sweet! Thank you.”

You step aside, thankful for Ganke’s chatty behavior because it give you an excuse to stay though Hobie’s own purchase. Both boys including you in their conversation about Hobie’s soon to be fully functioning game cube. Then you’re both walking out the door.

“So…” Hobie clicks his tongue. Anxious as the plastic bag he carries weighs down his hand. “Where are you off to now? Friends waiting at that nice restaurant?”

You shake your head, pointing to the direction of the movie theater. “Nope, there’s a screening for one of my favorite movies. It starts in about…ten minutes.”

Hobie’s eyebrows raise. “By yourself?”

“Mhm, was just killing some time.”

Hobie is at a loss for words. Spending your birthday alone sounds cruel. You deserve to have cake and gifts—the whole package. However it’s then that Hobie realizes he isn’t the only one who could be away from home.

“Mind if I come with you?” He blurts out.

Your eyes widen and in your stunned silence you feel the excitement build.

“Yes- I would love that!”

Gingerly clasping your hands together you happily tug him along. Explaining what movie you had bought a ticket for. Outwardly wondering if there were still seats available.

Hobie doesn’t feel dread walking back to the theater. He isn’t even upset when he smells popcorn again. With a soft smile he keeps his eyes on you. Only getting annoyed when his co-workers whistle behind his back and make exaggerated faces.

#hobie brown #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #atsv #atsv hobie #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spider punk x reader #spiderpunk #spiderpunk x reader #hobie fanfic #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x y/n #college au

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steddieunderdogfics · 2 days ago

Note

I'd like to rec "it must be something in the water" by rosefire for the College AU theme weekend. It's very sweet and also great smut!

it must be something in the water by rosefire

@r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e

Rating: Explicit

13,961 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator chose not to use

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington, Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Musician Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Service Top Eddie Munson, Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Eddie Munson Has ADHD, Not a PWP, Actually a good amount of plot

Summary

“Oh my god,” Steve said, panic threading his voice, “Oh my god oh my god —” “Hey, dude, relax, okay, we’re gonna — they’re gonna figure out we’re stuck in here and get us out. We’re gonna be fine,” Eddie said, actively tamping down the wave of frustration rising up in him. He felt his lips pull back from his teeth, a little, slamming the button for the lobby over and over, pressing the emergency call button, remembering he didn’t have his phone. He was too close to his fucking rut for this shit. “We’ve just gotta calm the fuck down —” “No,” Steve whined, “I — I can’t —” and Eddie whipped his head around, alarmed. Steve was flushed now, and the faint sheen on his face had been upgraded to actual beads of sweat, pooling at his temples. His pupils were dilated, and while Eddie stood, frozen, because he’d never in his life heard Steve sound like that, Steve shouldered off his backpack and unzipped his windbreaker with shaking hands, still gasping for air. “Hey, Steve, dude, we’re gonna be fine,” Eddie tried again, only then Steve whipped his windbreaker off his shoulders towards him and Eddie got a face full of his scent, and that wasn’t just warm rising off of him, that was heat.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is College AU.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddieunderdogfics #theme weekend #college au #rated e #modern au #omegaverse #misunderstanding #idiots in love #mutual pining

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taurasiscntybun · 18 hours ago

Text

But we’re roommates! Pt three

-College DT x nerdy reader

-18+ minors DNI

- warnings: graphic descriptions of sex, virginity kink, oral sex, first time, adult language, anxiety

-2,900 words

-Thanks to my always editor @taurasicomplex

“Layback on the pillows baby.” She pushes you back against the headboard and looms over you, her rapid breath mixing with your own.

“Im gonna take your pants off now ok?” Diana whispers, her hands going to unbuckle your cargo pants.

”y..yes please.” You say and lift your hips, she makes quick work of the button and zipper, hooking her fingers in the waistband of your pants.

“Fuck” you swear softly as the fabric slowly slips down your thighs and calf’s, her touch maddeningly gentle as she undressed you.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” Diana praises in a breathy tone, her eyes glued to your exposed thighs and thin panties. She yanks your pants the rest of the way off and tosses them onto your side of the room. She climbs onto the bed over you then sinks downs to her knees, her face hovering above your thighs.

“Open.” Diana prompts and gently pushes your legs open, she sucks in a breath as your wet panties are revealed to her.

“Oh fuck baby, you're so needy for me.” Diana teases and kisses up your thigh, stopping just before she reaches your underwear.

“I think you should take these off too babygirl.” Her breath is hot over your fabric covered core and you moan softly.

“T..take them off please.” You whimper in response, your whole body feeling alight with need for her strong hands. She huffs a laugh against you and slides your underwear down, revealing your slick, glistening cunt to her.

”Fuck you're so pretty here too.” Diana groans, half to herself and half to you as she flings your underwear away too. She grabs your knees and pulls them up over her shoulders, baring you open to her. You gasp as she maneuvers you, her face hovers cementers from your pussy but she pauses, waiting your ok. You tangle your hands in her hair, glad it’s down for once.

“Yes.. more Diana more.” You beg and tug on her hair, you're not even really sure what you're asking for but you knew she’d understand your plea. She doesn’t answer but you feel her huff a little laugh against your skin. Without waiting another moment her mouth is on you, licking a teasing stripe up your cunt. Your hips jerk, the foreign feeling setting you aflame.

“So good baby.” She praises softly and sucks your clit into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your sensitive bud.

”Oh god!” You moan, your body quivering under her expert tongue. She smiles against you and swirls her tongue down to your entrance.

“Oh god you feel so good.” You whine and grind against her.

“That’s right baby ride my face, I want you to cum all over my face baby. Fuck I want to taste your first orgasm.” She groans and thrusts her tongue inside you. She holds your hips as she guides you against her face, moaning softly as she tastes you. You writhe beneath her, needing more.

“Diana! M..more please.” You tug at her hair and she groans, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“What do you need baby?” She asks and laps languidly at your clit.

“Fuck Diana I.. I don’t know! I don’t know just more please!” You beg her, your core aching for release.

“I’m gonna use my fingers then babygirl ok?” She maneuvers your position again; putting your legs down but keeping you spread open. Diana runs a hand up your thigh, the move somewhat clumsy but still sexy. She was nervous too. She pulled her face away and ran her middle finger through your folds.

“You’re so good for me baby, you’re so wet.” Her finger teases your heat before pressing into you.

“Fuck you’re so tight… I’m the first one to touch this pretty little hole.” She moaned and closed her lips around your clit again as she slowly pumped her finger in and out. She curled her finger slightly, teasing against your inner walls.

“Oh god Diana yes please.” You gasp out and yank on her hair she made a growling noise in response and lapped her tongue over your clit. She pressed another finger into you as your body relaxes more. Your pussy clenches, your orgasm close.

“That’s it baby squeeze my fingers, fuck you taste so good.” Her words come out muffled against your skin, the ending jumbled as she sucks your clit into her mouth again, scissoring her fingers open inside you and stretching you out.

“FUCK!” You cry out your hips bucking and your back arching off the bed as you cum hard. Your pussy spasms around Diana’s thick fingers as she works you through your high.

“I love watching you come undone, fuck you look so messy I love it.” Diana says sitting up from between your legs. She slowly pulls her fingers out and brings them up to her mouth, her deep brown eyes meet yours as she sucks her fingers clean.

”Oh my god Diana that was..was.. so good.” You pant out and shift to lean forward and reach for her. Diana turns and pulls you against her, half in her lap.

“I’m never gonna stop fucking touching you now baby, you fit so perfectly against me.” She teases and runs her hands up and down your waist.

“So fucking pretty baby.” Diana says softly. She dips her head to nuzzle against your chest, she bites the fabric of your tank top and tugs teasingly. You gasp softly and arch into her touch.

“You’re so responsive.” Diana says in a low tone and circles her tongue around your nipple, it hardens and strains against the fabric.

“Diana” You whimper and your hips subconsciously rock against her thigh. She pulls away from your chest and looks down at you with a smug smile.

“Already so needy for me again, such a greedy little virgin.” Diana taunts and slowly tugs your tank top off; you shiver as youre exposed to the cool air of your dorm room.

”You too Diana, please let me see you.” You beg and pull on the bottom of her shirt. She complies and raises her arms, you don’t hesitate to pull off her shirt. Diana stops you as your fingers wiggle under her sports bra.

“You talk about my boobs so much are you ready to see them?” Diana teases, a silly smug smile on her face, her lips still glisten slightly from your earlier release. You give an annoyed huff.

“I want you too, I want to explore your body I…I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.” You say sheepishly and bite your lips.

“You want to touch me baby? I was gonna make this first time all about you but-“ She grins down at you.

“First time?”

“Oh yeah babe, expect this on the regular. I think I’m gonna enjoy coming home after practice and pulling you in my arms before telling you about my day.” She reaches down to the waistband of her pants, shifting you off her lap to undress.

“I.. I guess I didn’t know that was an option.. do.. doing this regularly.” You blush as she drops her pants to the floor. Her eyes soften as she looks at you.

“I just got you my baby bunny, do you think I’m gonna let you go now?” Diana’s voice is a hushed whisper as she locks eyes with you. Noticing your blush she smiles and quickly rips off her sports bra, slingshotting it off her fingers before turning to you.

“Shit Diana, you’re better than I imagined.” You groan and lift your hands to touch her. Her fingers close over your wrists and she guides your hands to cover her breasts.

“Fuck touch me baby.” She moans and leans into your exploring touch. You squeeze her breasts, your touch still a little unsure.

“Don’t be scared.” Diana whispers and moves your hand over her nipple again. You take the hint and pay more attention to her nipples, running your palms over her sensitive buds.

“More baby.” Diana pleads in a raspy tone, she braces herself with her hands behind her and arches her back towards you.

“Tell me how Diana, how do I make you feel good?” You ask and try to mimick some of her early actions; you kiss down her neck and grope her breasts.

“Shit fuck yes.” Diana said in a gasping voice.

“I’m…I’m gonna t..touch you now.” You say a bit more nervously than you meant to. You let your hands wander down to the waistband of her boxers. She sucks in a breath and looks at you.

“You’re not gonna do it wrong I promise.” Diana says, placating your nerves. You peel her boxers off, finally baring all of her to you. You clumsily tug her boxers all the way off, letting them drop off her ankle.

“Fuck that was hard for no reason.” You huff softly and Diana laughs.

“First test I guess, I give you a C.” She laughs at your shocked face. “Oh is that the lowest grade you’ve ever made? Poor baby maybe you can bring up your grade with some extracurricular.” Diana teases and settles in the bed, her long legs spread.

“You..you cannot make this a test when technically this would be the first lesson!” You protest and sit back against your heels.

“Oh relax I was just teasing baby, you know what, sure that was your first lesson, you learned how to cum.” Diana grinned and rested her hands behind her head.

“And?” You snap and lean towards her.

“Hmmmmm” she taps her chin with one finger mockingly.

“I’d say a B+, love the little noises you make but I think you could relax more.” As if to prove her point you huff indignantly and cross your arms.

“Alright lesson two baby, make me cum.” Diana nudges you playfully with her leg and you turn to see her grin.

“And I promise I’m a much nicer grader.” She wiggles her thin eyebrows a few times and you can’t keep the pout on your face, a small giggle escaping you.

“Hmmm what if I say it’s worth double the points or whatever.” She rolls her eyes and nudges you again with her leg.

“Hmmm only because I’m such a studious person.” You say, finding the courage to tease her a little. Diana looks at you almost proudly as you rib her back, the smile on her face wide enough to show her elusive dimple. You crawl over the bed to her and sit back on your heels, hovering over her.

“You can’t do it wrong.” Diana says encouragingly.

“You don’t have to though if it’s uh too much or whatever.” She started to close her legs and you were momentarily shocked, to see the ever sure and confident Diana be so vulnerable.

“Please don’t, I’m sorry it’s me… I…uh… I promise I want to.” You move down the bed a little and push her thighs open.

“I only hesitated because I’ve never done this before and I don’t want to fuck it up for you…I know you’ve had better and I don’t like not being good at something.” You absently squeezed her inner thigh as you spoke and she groaned her hips bucking up.

“I promise I’ve had no one better, fuck baby, no one’s ever touched me.” Diana admits and you still.

“Wait but-“

“Oh I’ve had sex, plenty, mostly with cheerleaders and other girls who wanted to experiment but those girls aren’t usually interested in returning the favor.” She takes in your confused expression and sighs.

“Ok if you want the nitty gritty or whatever, usually I uh masturbate while I uh make them cum or whatever.” She runs a hand through her hair and watches you nervously. You flinch as you watch her unceremoniously rip through the tangles in her curls.

“I uh wasn’t confused on that part.” You say softly and shake your head. “I was confused on how they thought that was ok? Like duh if you made me cum I’m going to do the same.” You tell her matter of factly and relish in the slight blush that forms on her cheeks.

“Oh uh well I just learned to not expect it.” Diana responds quietly, her gaze searching. You nod and smile at her.

“Ok well it sounds like you’re the expert in making people cum, tell me how to do it.” You drop your voice a little lower, hoping it come off as sexy.

“Get closer.” Diana instructs and bends her knees, splaying out and giving you plenty of room. You climb over one of her thighs to settle between her legs, you brace yourself on her thighs and lower your head to hover over you. You pause and grin, deciding to keep the bit going.

“Ok I’ve gotten closer, now what should I do.” You say and watch her pussy tense, the action sending a pang of desire through you.

“F..fuck baby uh o..ok now you’re going to lick.. flatten your tongue then tease the clit.” She instructs, her words getting more breathy as she goes on. You follow her instructions and lick up her slit.

“Oh fuck.” You moan and your eyes flutter shut as your tongue teases at her entrance and her arousal flooded your tastebuds.

“Oh Christ, fuck, mother fucker!” Diana babbles out as you tease her clit.

“Now what do I do?” You drop your voice to a husky whisper and she looks at you in shock.

“Finally found a good use for reading Jane Austen, I know I can call you a little minx!” She protests and wiggles her hips. You laugh softly, relishing in the power you felt.

“Minx or not you still haven’t told me the next thing to do.”

You say, your words muffled against her wet cunt.

“Oh you’re bad, fuck! Fine! N..now suck my clit into your mouth or.. or use your tongue in..in me and move your nose against my clit.” Her words came out as a somewhat defeated protest and you paused for a moment wondering if you took things too far but then Diana writhed under you.

“Fuck you’re torturing me baby” Diana whimpered and tangled her fingers in your hair. You suck her clit into your mouth roughly and wiggle your head slightly to heighten the pleasure.

“Oh baby I’m close please don’t stop just a little more fuck please.” She begged and tugged on your hair. You did the second thing she’d told you, knowing it was even sexier that you were following her directions to make her cum. You close your mouth over her entrance and suck, thrusting your tongue in and moving your head, making sure to bump her clit.

“I’m gonna cum fuck I’m gonna cum, stop now cause I’m gonna cum on your face!” Diana babbles and her hips jerk, you give her thigh a reassuring squeeze and double your efforts, moving back to her clit and lavishing it with attention.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Diana moans and her legs tremor for a moment and her body goes slack. You smile and lick up the remnants of her orgasm, basking in the way her pussy quivered under your gentle tongue.

“A+ fuck baby you get an A+ for that.” She laughs softly and opens her arms as you sit up. You hesitate for a moment, unsure what this makes your relationship.

“We’re in our dorm baby bunny, it’s just you and me, come here and stop overthinking it” You just nod and slide into her, fitting neatly against her chest and between her legs.

“Oh that’s uh very close but ok.” Diana leans down and kisses you on the forehead then pulls the blanket up over you. Her beds never made but that means there’s no awkward shuffle and lifting to get under the covers.

“So you stayed away from me cause you liked me?” Diana asks and strokes her hand through your hair lazily.

“I…uh..I’m already not great with people and I just didn’t know how to uh act normal I guess.” You blush and hide your face from her a bit, burying yourself in her chest.

“And you think you were acting normal? I’ve approached wild animals less skittish.” She teases and twirls a piece of your hair around her finger. “I’m glad you’re finally going to let loose around me, and you’re gonna come to my games right? Oh and we can study together!” Diana says excitedly and squeezes you gently.

“I won’t say no to going to some games, and you definitely need help studying.” You tease back and smile broadly.

“Hey I’m passing all my classes thank you very much!” Diana protests but you can hear the laughter in her voice.

“I think you should set your goals a little higher, maybe try for As or a B.” You say gently and trace an absent pattern on her chest.

“I think you’re gonna be the brains of this operation baby but I can be your muscle whenever you need.” Diana leans down and peppers your face with kisses as you giggle and writhe.

“So now that I’m allowed close I have so many questions.” Her voice is warm in your ear.

“Hmmmm I guess, what do you want to know?” You say and settle against her. Diana strokes your hair absently again.

“I wanna know everything.”

#diana taurasi #wnba x reader #lesbian #women’s sports #wbb #lgbtqia #fanfic #wnba requests #college au #and they were roommates #innocence kink #diana taurasi x reader #wlw smut

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lance-space-mommy · 2 days ago

Text

It’s Kind Of Diabolical

UA was a dream school that people all around the world tried to get into. Not only was it ranked number one in all of Japan, but the school was undefeated in all categories. Whatever category an individual could think of Dean Nezu did everything in his power to make the school the best in said category.

The 3% acceptance rate showed how picky the admissions team was.

Izuku Midoriya was considered one of the smartest students in the school. There were only two people that ranked higher than him in the entire building across all majors. Izuku was in a medical and pharmaceutical concentration of Biology and Chemistry. The double major was hell on earth, but he topped that off with a physics and psychology minor.

No one in the school, including the teachers, understood how he managed his time juggling countless classes all at once. Still, Izuku loved to learn, and he put his full effort into completing every class to near perfection. He worked very closely with his advisors Toshinori Yagi and Aizawa Shota. They complimented each other and it helped Izuku a lot with moving forward and making decisions based on their advice.

Everyone was always talking about Izuku and every move he made. Still, Izuku had something that he kept to himself. Izuku was a professional athlete.

The only reason no one knew was because he didn’t play for the college, making it significantly easier for him to keep it a secret. Well, to a degree he could hide it. He competed in high level competitions, and many were non-profit to raise awareness for important causes. His high ranking often led him to speaking in interviews about the cause.

Izuku was an angel on earth.

Katsuki Bakugo was average in school. He was naturally smart and put as little effort into his schoolwork as possible. Katsuki was a business major with two minors. One was in marketing and another in accounting. As long as he got an A in the class, he didn’t try to push himself harder. His main focus was on sports. After all, he was the captain of the football team and spent most of his free time training.

The school's meal plan was heavily abused by Katsuki as he was often seen inhaling food with his friends whenever he wasn’t in the gym or on the field. The training and consistent meal plan helped him greatly. Katsuki was well built with muscles that made half of the campus jealous and the other half lovesick.

Despite all the attention Katsuki got, he remained single. He appreciated his fans to a degree, but never engaged with them. He enjoyed the chase and the rush he got from the attention. Still, he loved playing football, and he loved his teammates. He’d never let a relationship, or other outside influences distract him.

That was until his best friend, also the vice-captain of the football team, decided it was time to flip his life upside down.

“Who’s that talking to Coach Toshinori?” asked Kaminari excitedly upon seeing a cute boy appear on the fields.

Katsuki didn’t bother looking, not interested in hearing gossip about some stranger. Kirishima on the other hand perked up when he noticed who Kaminari was talking about. “That’s Midoriya! He’s insane.”

Kirishima’s statement caught the attention of Katsuki and the rest of the team. Sero recognized Izuku as well and commented, “Yeah, isn’t he doing a double major and double minor?”

“That’s him! Mina told me that he’s already been accepted by every high end medical school he’s applied to,” revealed Kirishima, happy to say his girlfriend's name every chance he got.

Kaminari stared at Izuku from afar, letting his mouth catch flies. Once he let a couple of moments pass by, he snapped back into focus and smirked. “So, he’s smart and successful. Wait, how does Mina know him?”

“Mutual friends, apparently Midoriya is super popular. Almost everyone knows him, so I’m surprised you don’t,” responded Kirishima slowly, letting his gaze return to Izuku.

Toshinori flashed a wide smile at Izuku, ruffling the fluffy locks of green hair. The excited voices of the duo faintly reached the group's ears. Tetsutetsu chuckled to himself before jerking a thumb over to where they were standing. “Looks like he just got accepted to another school.”

Katsuki’s gaze was fierce, but he couldn’t stop the foreign rushing of his heart. There was something about this smartass chatting with his coach that irritated Katsuki. No matter how much he wanted to roll his eyes and redirect the conversation, he knew Izuku would be on his mind.

Fate had funny ways of bringing destined lovers together.

Three weeks was all it took for Katsuki cave into obsession. He hadn’t realized just how big of a figure Izuku had been in the school. After that fateful day, it seemed that anytime he’d be in the food hall or was hanging out with his friends, he’d hear chatter about the mysterious genius.

All alone in his room with thirty minutes until his bedtime, Katsuki started digging. He found some online interviews with Izuku talking about the charities he’s worked with. Then Katsuki found his social media account that talked about plans for his future, study tips, and a plethora of random school-related things.

It only took a minute of scrolling for Katsuki to realize this wasn’t Izuku’s personal account. No matter how much he dug, he couldn’t find any pictures of Izuku at these apparent parties or hangouts with his friends that Mina claimed he had.

The following morning came around and like clockwork, Izuku would become a part of his life.

The football team huddled around Coach Toshinori when he clapped his hands together with his usual blinding smile. “Look alive! As you all know, the season is starting to pick up and now more than ever, we need to engage with the public. We are the best school in all of Japan and we need to maintain that status. So, I want you to take to social media and hold mini interviews with people in busy areas!”

Katsuki shrugged, not bothered by the assignment. It wasn’t like he had any intention of being the one doing the interviewing. If he partnered with Kirishima who was more of a people person, then he could just record the interviews.

“Let’s do this Bakugo!” cheered Kirishima loudly, letting his manly persona take over.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his phone. “Shut up Shitty Hair! Do you want to scare away everyone with your screaming?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Kirishima turned back to where people were moving in and out of shops. “Oops, you’re right. Sorry man.”

Huffing, Katsuki prepared his phone to record as Kirishima asked individuals if they’d be willing to be interviewed. Most of the time it took one look at Kirishima and Bakugo for people to say yes. It may have been the duo’s good looks, or their UA letter jackets, but people were fast to do an interview.

They had already held short interviews with ten people by the time their interest had fully worn off. Kirishima groaned, crashing on a nearby bench. “Why does Coach want us to interview fifteen people? We are going to have way too much footage,” noted Kirishima as he watched people pass by.

“Stop complaining, we are almost finished,” grumbled Katsuki, scrolling through the countless videos on his phone.

“Easy for you to say! You haven’t talked to one person,” scoffed Kirishima, failing at guilt tripping Katsuki.

Raising a brow with an unimpressed expression, Katsuki shrugged it off. “Not my problem.”

Kirishima spotted a familiar face in the crowd and his face lit up like a little kid on their birthday. “No way! Is that Midoriya? What are the odds we see him here?”

Katsuki was already handing his phone to Kirishima, not bothering to look back or wait for his friend. “Record me.”

The eagerness Katsuki displayed to interview Izuku let Kirishima know everything. Katsuki had a fat crush on Izuku. He’d never pass up a moment to record Katsuki making a fool of himself. Moments like these were rare and Kirishima usually failed to capture the moment in a picture or video.

Once the redhead caught up to where Katsuki had greeted Izuku, he caught the end of their exchange of pleasantries.

Izuku flashed a soft smile at Katsuki. “It’s nice to meet you in person! Toshinori tells me a lot about you.”

Kirishima was already recording with a bright smile. “Hi Midoriya!”

Turning his head to look at Kirishima, Izuku’s eyes lit up when he realized it was Kirishima. “Oh! Kirishima, hi! It’s been so long since we’ve last talked!”

“It really has been! I’ve been so busy with balancing school and football I haven’t been going to the parties lately,” sighed Kirishima defeatedly. He knew Izuku wasn't one to be petty but still, he felt bad about not keeping in touch with someone he enjoyed talking to.

“Nonsense! Anyway, Bakugo, you mentioned something about interviewing me?” inquired Izuku, returning to the initial reason he was approached by the hottest guy on campus.

Katsuki took a step closer to Izuku after letting his eyes trail all over Izuku’s body when the pretty boy had been distracted. Clearing his throat, trying to fight the nerves that flooded his body when he caught sight of muscular legs, Katsuki nodded.

“Yes, the football team is doing interviews with the public so we can post stupid shit to remind everyone why UA is the best.”

Perking up at the explanation of what was happening, Izuku eagerly agreed,” Of course. I’m more than happy to support UA and our football team!”

The three traveled to a more open area of the shopping center. The sun was warm on their skin and there was a gentle breeze. As Izuku and Katsuki waited for Kirishima to give them the go ahead to start the interview, Kirishima swore the scene looked like something out of a romcom movie. The school jock and nerd running into each other and having their worlds collide on a beautiful day with a cinematic breeze twirling their hair around.

Izuku was wearing a white tee shirt with the words “running shirt” on it. He paired the simple tee shirt with some black gym shorts that had white accents on the side seam. Both of his knees were strapped up with yellow kinesiology knee tape, paired with royal blue compression socks. The final addition to the horrifically discolored outfit was a pair of expensive red running sneakers.

Katsuki was in some baggy black pants, expensive white sneakers, and wore his UA football letter jacket.

Their outfits dramatically contrasted each other, but it wasn’t an eyesore like Kirishima thought it would be. Despite all of that, Kirishima cut the two’s ogling short. “Start anytime!”

Without missing a beat, Katsuki went off-script and asked a personal question. “What happened to your leg?”

Both Kirishima and Izuku seemed a bit taken aback by the question, but they quickly recovered. Kirishima knew he was going to use this as blackmail on Katsuki for the foreseeable future. Izuku on the other hand didn’t know what to expect from the interview and was happy to talk to the notorious football captain.

“I do a lot of running. A lot of cardio,” revealed Izuku, smiling shyly at Katsuki as he fiddled with the earbuds he had taken out.

Since he was a person with no filter, Katsuki dove straight into sly flirting. “Were you on your knees by any chance?”

“I actually was,” answered Izuku quickly, a bit surprised Katsuki asked the question. Still, he wasn’t too surprised Katsuki knew what to ask considering he was an athlete too.

Katsuki didn’t falter despite Izuku clearly not understanding what he meant with that question. “Oh. I picked the right guy for the interview,” commented Katsuki charmingly, his eyes looking at Izuku as if he were a meal to devour.

With the single comment, Izuku picked up on what Katsuki was indirectly saying and let his eyes widen and let out a breathless laugh. Katsuki knew he wanted to see that look and hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life. He wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but truly Izuku had him captivated. Izuku felt the exact same way.

He got me, hook, line, and sinker.

“How is your day going?” asked Katsuki calmly, reeling back into interviewing Izuku despite him not asking about UA or things about football.

Izuku pouted, looking at the hustle and bustle of the people around. “Pretty slow”

Seeing an opening to be mischievous again, Katsuki leaned closer. “Do you want me to make it faster?”

Perking up at the suggestive question, Izuku was ready to show he was just as interested. Using all the confidence training his teachers have put him through, Izuku tempted, “How would you do that?”

“How do you want me to do that?” fired back Katsuki with pure enjoyment. There was a little voice in the back of his head, wondering if the man before him was being a little shit to mess with him or if he was truly interested.

While Katsuki was overthinking everything, Izuku tilted his head down, looking up at Katsuki through his eyelashes with a shy smile. It was a very pointed look, and Katsuki felt his heart swoon. Katsuki was ready to bite those chubby cheeks peppered with the most beautiful freckles. Still, he was a college student and imagined pinning Izuku against his locker in the vacant locker room, and making those perfect lips spread to let out a scream of pleasure.

“I’m going to have to cut this video short,” half-joked Katsuki, struggling to keep his mind focused on anything but asking Izuku to date him in less than polite words.

The loud, almost manic laughter erupted from Izuku again as the implications of Katsuki’s words sank in. He was infatuated with Katsuki. There was something so thrilling about being the one that caught the attention of the untouchable football captain. In the back of his mind, he was scared this was all some elaborate prank to humiliate him, but he had to trust that Toshinori wasn’t lying about Katsuki being a good person.

It wasn’t uncommon to hear all his friends talking about Katsuki. It was close to impossible not to hear the name when football was such a major sport. Katsuki was the captain and the team's best player. Besides, Izuku often visits the games.

The only problem was he never got a good look at the blonde when their classes had no overlap and Katsuki was nothing more than a small blob down on the field.

Katsuki recalled Kirishima and Izuku’s short exchange. Kirishima mentioned something about not going to as many parties due to his busy schedule. If Kirishima equated not going to parties to a complete loss of communication, he wondered just how often Izuku attended them. “Do you ever go out to parties?”

“Maybe sometimes,” admitted Izuku slowly, raising a brow to gauge just what Katsuki’s aim was. While Izuku enjoyed some dirty talk, he had no intention of being a sex toy. He had standards and he hoped that Katsuki wasn’t just a closeted player.

“Do you ever see frat boys?” questioned Katsuki quickly, feeling anxiety bubble in his gut. He didn’t want Izuku to have his eyes on loser extras. Katsuki knew that some of the frat boys were persistent and relentless when it came to sexual endeavors. Jealousy was an ugly feeling, and Katsuki didn’t like being in a competition where he could easily lose.

Izuku stilled, a bit offended Katsuki was asking about his potential romantic interests in frat boys. How could Katsuki think he had no standards? Sure, Izuku was popular and flirty when it counted, but he didn’t think he gave off the impression he’d settle for a frat boy.

Truth be told, Izuku had a fear of drinking and drugs. He was a control freak after all.

In the end he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice some of the frat boys at the parties he attended. No matter how many people tried to hide the parties from the frat boys, they managed to find and get into the private parties. “I do see some frat boys. I don’t go for frat boys though.”

Katsuki immediately relaxed and soon realized he had been making a lot of assumptions. Sure, he was gay, but he couldn’t just assume anyone he was interested in was. Yet, he saw Izuku standing across the field on one fateful day and decided the nerd was his. Still, he didn’t have to worry about some horny men getting their hands on Izuku.

With his skin practically itching from anticipation, Katsuki knew he needed to get a better confirmation of Izuku’s sexuality. Their not-so-subtle flirting wasn’t enough. “So, what kind of guys do you go for?”

“Literally any other kind of guy,” chuckled Izuku, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. It was clear that Katsuki was interested in him no matter what the intentions behind that interest were. Who could blame him for being flattered that Katsuki was giving him attention in a world filled with gorgeous individuals who matched Katsuki’s interests better.

Even if he was a perfect mix of calculated and impulsive, Katsuki was quick to gather the courage and make it clear where he stood. “Like football players?”

The message was direct and Izuku’s face bloomed the most stunning shade of pink Katsuki had ever seen. The shade complimented his hair and made his freckles more apparent. Still, Izuku raised a hand to tuck a stray curl behind his ear. Ignoring the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he smiled confidently. “I’ve never gone for a football player before but…”

All composure was lost, and Katsuki’s buffer vanished. “Do you like dick?”

That was all it took for Izuku to burst out into laughter. Even if Katsuki only wanted him for his body, which meant a hard rejection to an only physical relationship, Izuku had no intention of living a life without Katsuki in it. The vulgarity in Katsuki’s speech and the lack of regret in everything he said was something Izuku quickly admired. “Uh yeah.”

Katsuki couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, unable to believe that with the dumpster fire their conversation was, Izuku was still laughing and engaged. If his last question wasn’t enough to drive Izuku away, he might as well try to ask, “Can I get your number?”

Not even a second passed when Izuku threw his head back in laughter once more, fully captivated by Katsuki. He enjoyed the directness after all the suggestive language. Waving a hand, Izuku took a deep breath before shrugging and nodding his head. “Yeah, I guess you can get my number.”

Suddenly Katsuki felt like an elementary schooler. He remembered watching all his friends ask girls out and being surprised when they accepted. Now he understood how they felt at that moment. It was a pure, unadulterated sense of belonging and acceptance.

Despite the train wreck he presented himself to be, Izuku wanted to stick around.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” confirmed Izuku as he laughed, raising his hand, messing with his phone to pull up contacts, and offering it to Katsuki.

Kirishima stood behind the camera, wearing a disgusted expression. Izuku and Katsuki were made for each other. He couldn’t imagine any other person in the world still giving their number to Katsuki after being aggressively asked if they liked dick.

Whatever rose-tinted glasses Izuku was wearing, Kirishima wanted a pair too.

Katsuki calmly put in his digits and his name. He knew Izuku knew his name, but still, he liked the feeling of making himself known to Izuku. As soon as Katsuki went to hand Izuku his phone, a calendar notification pinged.

“Sorry, I really must go! I’ll text you, Katsuki. And Kirishima, it was a pleasure seeing you again.”

Kirishima and Katsuki both waved to Izuku and sadly said their goodbyes. They were impressed that Izuku was able to spare them a minute in the first place with how intense his schedule must be.

Izuku walked away with a pep in his step. Kirishima had been busy sending the video to himself when Katsuki’s voice reached his ears against his will.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” sighed Katsuki, clearly admiring Izuku’s ass-sets.

Kirishima cringed, staring at Katsuki as if he’d been betrayed. “Bro, I love you… but I’m going to need you to stop talking.”

Katsuki gave Kirishima a swift punch to the arm before snatching his phone back. “Never speak of this to anyone. Let’s grab lunch… fuck interviewing anyone else.”

More than happy to stop where they were, Kirishima started walking to the one restaurant nearby he knew they both enjoyed. Katsuki smiled at his phone when he almost immediately got a text from Izuku.

Katsuki wasn’t planning on letting Izuku go after having a taste.

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