#it Is the worst possible thing to say but then i see the response and itll be like AWWW TYSM :] THIS MEANS A LOT or whathaveyou and i feel

[geotjwrs]

Hey is it possible if you could do Jenna x male reader based off the song Dark Red by Steve Lacy? Thank you

only you babe

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet tension in the room. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his phone clutched in his hand, his eyes staring blankly at the screen. It had been an hour since Jenna had texted, and her silence felt louder than anything else in his life right now.

"I think you know that I miss you…"

The lyrics echoed in his mind, but all he could focus on was the gnawing feeling in his gut—the one that told him something was wrong. He hadn’t heard from her since their last conversation, and now every passing second felt like a countdown to something he didn’t want to face.

He stood up, pacing the small apartment. He’d always had this fear, deep down, that Jenna might slip away. That one day, she would realize she didn’t need him. And lately, that fear had started to feel more real. The way she’d been distant, the way her messages came less frequently, it all pointed to something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Something bad is ’bout to happen to me…"

The words from the song buzzed in his head, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. He knew he should call her, talk to her, ask her what was really going on. But every time he thought about it, that voice in the back of his mind whispered, What if she’s done? What if you push her away?

Just as he was about to give in to the anxiety, his phone buzzed. A message.

Jenna: “Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. He stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly. Those words—“Can we talk?”—were never a good sign. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and the room suddenly felt too small, too hot.

He sat down again, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. She was leaving, wasn’t she? She had found someone else, or maybe she had finally gotten tired of him. Y/N’s thoughts spiraled out of control, and before he could stop himself, he typed out a response.

Y/N: “Is everything okay?”

The seconds stretched into minutes, and still no response. Y/N stood up again, pacing even faster now, his palms sweaty as he waited for her reply. He couldn’t breathe. His mind was clouded with every possible thing that could go wrong.

"I think I’m losin’ it…"

He looked around the apartment, his gaze falling on the little things that reminded him of her. The jacket she’d left hanging on the back of his chair. The coffee mug she always used. The picture of the two of them sitting on the shelf, smiling like nothing in the world could ever come between them.

But now, Y/N wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been sure for a while, and it scared him more than anything.

Finally, his phone buzzed again. He snatched it up, his heart pounding in his chest as he read her message.

Jenna: “Yeah, but… I just feel like things have been off between us lately.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had known this was coming. He had felt it in every silence, in every missed call, in every time she had looked at him like she was seeing someone else. But hearing her say it, seeing it in black and white on his screen, made it real.

Y/N: “I know… I’ve felt it too.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to tell her how scared he was, how much he loved her, how the thought of losing her made him feel like he was drowning. But he didn’t. Instead, he just waited, feeling like the walls were closing in around him.

An hour later, Jenna showed up at his door. She stood there, her arms crossed, looking at him with those dark eyes that had always been able to read him like a book. There was something different in them tonight, though—something he couldn’t quite place.

Y/N stepped aside, letting her in. They hadn’t talked in person for a couple of days, and the air between them felt heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice almost fragile as she walked past him.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, his throat tight. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a second before following her into the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them feeling much bigger than it had ever felt before. Y/N fidgeted with his hands, trying to come up with something to say, but his mind was blank.

Jenna looked at him, her expression soft but serious. “Y/N… I don’t know what’s been going on with us lately. But I can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—about how terrified he was of losing her, how he’d been feeling this weight of uncertainty pressing down on him for weeks. But instead, he just nodded, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, he’d make everything worse.

“Me too,” he finally managed to say. “I’ve felt it too.”

Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want us to fall apart, Y/N. But lately, it feels like we’re not even on the same page anymore. Like we’re both just waiting for something bad to happen.”

Y/N’s heart sank. That was exactly how he had been feeling. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to say she was done with him. He hadn’t realized she was feeling the same way.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N said, his voice cracking slightly. He hated how vulnerable he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. This was Jenna, the girl he had loved for longer than he could remember, and the thought of her walking out of his life was unbearable.

Jenna’s eyes softened at his words. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we need to figure this out, Y/N. We can’t keep going on like this, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. “I know. I just… I’ve been so scared, Jenna. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you didn’t want this anymore. That you didn’t want me.”

Jenna’s expression softened even more, and she moved closer to him, her hand still gripping his. “Y/N… that’s not it. I love you. I always have. But we can’t keep letting fear control us. We need to talk to each other, not shut down every time things get hard.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t leaving. She didn’t want to leave. But the fear, the doubt, had been eating him alive for weeks, and now that it was out in the open, he realized just how much it had been affecting them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away.”

Jenna shook her head, her thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. “We’ve both been doing it. But it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this, Y/N. We just need to be honest with each other.”

Y/N nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “I want that. I want us to be okay.”

Jenna smiled softly, leaning in to press her forehead against his. “We will be. But we have to stop letting fear get in the way.”

They sat there like that for a while, their foreheads touching, the weight of their unspoken fears slowly lifting. The tension between them wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now, more manageable.

As the night wore on, Y/N realized that the dark cloud that had been hanging over them for so long was starting to fade. There were still things they needed to work through, still conversations they needed to have, but for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt like maybe they could make it through this.

And as he held Jenna close, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to let fear take her away from him. Not again.

[heyclickadee]

Okay, but what if Rex is hanging out in the desert with Gregor and Wolffe because he wins?

I know the fandom collectively decided that something awful must have happened and that the defeat forced into depressed retirement, but what if that’s not what happened? When Ezra tries pressing him into getting involved, his attitude isn’t, “It wasn’t worth it last time. You can’t fight this.” It’s, “I fought my war; this is my life now.” Wolffe is paranoid as hell and terrified of the Empire at first, sure, but Rex and Gregor aren’t; their attitude towards fighting off the ties is almost casual, like the idea of losing isn’t even an option. And when Kallus does make a direct threat and declares that he’s going to attack, Rex’s response isn’t, “Well, guess we should roll over, things went so badly last time,” it’s, “BRING IT, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

The thing about something bad happening and that being the thing that forced Rex to retire with his tail between his legs is that bad things have already happened. Order 66 happened. Rex lost his entire company and his way of life over the course of a few hours. He lost almost all of his men again in season three of TBB. And he’s still fighting. I’ve seen people speculate that maybe losing Echo is the thing that breaks his spirits, but—first, there’s nothing saying that Echo has to die, Echo can and should live to a ripe old age and I’m not pre-burying a character who I think should live; second, if the worst happened, losing Echo would just make Rex fight harder. Just like he has every time he’s lost so far. His goal, the war he’s currently fighting, is freeing the clones. I don’t see Rex—or Echo, for that matter—quitting until he succeeds. He’d die first. Since he’s definitely don’t dead by the time Rebels rolls around…maybe he did succeed, as much as he possibly could. The clones can’t overthrow the empire, but maybe they can break free of the power Palpatine has had over them for most of their lives. That’d be a real victory.

Rex seems pretty relaxed out there in his RV. He and the boys seem like they’re having fun just chilling and slinging for jupas. I’m hoping retirement out there is something he chose, rather than something he was forced into by failure and fear, just like rejoining the fight and helping the rebellion with the ghost crew was something he chose. There’s no reason it can’t be.

[monstermoviedean]

at the end of my fucking rope with "conversations" about k12 chronic absenteeism.

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[mokeonn]

I think my brain has become absolutely free from any sort of internet sludge after I went outside more, talked to people outside my age group, and played dinosaurs with a 5 year old. Like, oh?? You expect the creator of the post you're reading to have knowledge of all things related to the topic they made a casual post about? Skill issue. I understand that's a human behind the screen and not an information machine, and I'm gonna go make tea in a kitty cat tea pot.

[vampiefemme]

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

[augustinewrites]

“itadori, please respect his personal space—”

“kugisaki! stop hitting him—”

“megumi, don’t you dare bring that elephant out in my classroom—”

peace and quiet is short-lived whenever the first years are around.

you manage to quiet them down with the threat of assigning an essay, allowing you a moment’s respite to massage your temples and lean back in your seat, glancing at your phone to check just how many minutes you have left with them.

a notification pops up as you do, bringing on a whole new headache.

[satoru]: send nudes?

you quickly turn your phone over so it’s screen-down, face burning as you look around to make sure no one had seen.

peace and quiet is also short-lived whenever satoru calls out sick. because the strongest sorcerer of your time…currently has a cold.

he is, predictably, very dramatic whenever he’s sick. a mild fever means he puts himself on bedrest. a sore throat means he needs to be spoon fed a very specific homemade soup.

but the worst…oh, the worst is when he has a cold.

when satoru’s sinuses are clogged, he’s an absolute menace to deal with. his sneezes shake the apartment and his whines about sinus pressure are all you hear at the dinner table.

luckily, the students have resorted to quietly bothering each other, so you slowly turn your phone back around to deal with the man child who is likely littering the living room floor with tissues.

he’s stuck at home, which means he’s got nothing to do but annoy you.

[satoru]: haha jk

[satoru]: unless…?

huffing, you quickly type back a response.

[you]: NOT funny. i’m at work.

[satoru]: so what you’re saying is you’ll send them during lunch right ;)

“miss!” itadori shouts, his arm raised. “can fushiguro come to the arcade with us after class?”

“of course,” you say. “but please don’t forget to finish your essays on cursed technique origins. it’s due on monday.”

yuuji’s practically bouncing in his seat as he grabs megumi’s arm. hear that, fushiguro? you hear as you pick up your phone. your mom said yes!

megumi, who usually comes home on the weekends, still looks to you for approval. you assure him with a small nod and smile.

sometimes you just want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go. he may have been another couple’s blessing, but ultimately he’s yours and gojo’s pride and joy. possibly the only one you have left, as it stands.

thought you’re a little sad that he won’t be home for dinner tonight, you remind yourself that he’s growing up. for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a sort of lone wolf. but a lone wolf is still a wolf, and a wolf needs a pack.

he’s finally found friends he’s comfortable with, and it’s good that he wants to spend time with them and vice versa.

your phone buzzes insistently in your hand.

[satoru]: pleeeeeaaaase?

[satoru]: i think it’ll really help with my recovery…

[satoru]: if this cold kills me the last thing i want to see is a picture of you

oh, that’s actually kind of—

[satoru]: nude, preferably

maybe it’s a good thing megumi won’t be home tonight. you don’t need any witnesses to the crime you’re about to commit.

[you]: what’ll help with your recovery is a visit to the infirmary.

there’s a short pause, then you watch the little bubble appear and disappear about six times.

[satoru]: shit

[satoru]: is this a scene?

you roll your eyes, waving at the kids as they head out to catch the train.

[you]: i hate you

he doesn’t answer, so you get up to hurry over to your office, shutting and locking the door behind you.

you wait a moment, opening the camera on your phone as you do so.

once the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall disappears, you start unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt—

you scream when a loud sneeze startles you, satoru suddenly appearing at your side.

he doesn’t miss a beat, plucking a tissue from your desk and blowing his nose loudly. he throws it in the general direction of the bin before slapping his palm onto your desk.

you can tell he’s attempting to be some sort of seductive, but it’s dampened bu the way he sniffles loudly, his face a little red.

“hello, doctor,” he says, a lazy grin spread across his face. “i’m here for my physical.”

“honey,” you laugh, gently cupping the sides of his face. “you need to rest.”

“but ‘m not tired,” he pouts, leaning in to nose at your neck. his skin is warm against yours, much too warm for your liking.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “since i’m your doctor, i’m prescribing a nap.”

“a nap does sound kind of nice…”

he gets up, taking your hand and dragging you over to the couch with him. he locks you within his embrace, sighing contentedly as he presses you to his chest.

“wait, satoru i have to supervise the second years’ training—”

it’s too late. he’s already asleep, snoring loudly in your ear.

so you take out your phone and text nanami, asking if he can cover for you this afternoon.

because a sick satoru is a needy satoru, and you won’t be leaving this couch for a while.

[unheavenlyvision]

BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.”

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but­–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–” He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him­–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm…”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,” his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of unheavenlyvision

[buddhistmusings]

Every time I post something referencing the very real humanitarian crisis in Palestine, my "for you" page changes and becomes filled with recommended posts that contain the most vile antisemitic shit.

It makes me so sad, because it reminds me of what an awful job that a movement that was supposed to be about advocating for Palestinian lives has done with boundary maintenance. It is so compromised that social media algorithms don't appear able to differentiate between advocacy on behalf of Palestinians and antisemitic content. The crossover between the two has become enough that a user who engages with content of one kind is recommended content of another. People who are not educated on antisemitism and the covert symbolism it uses might not recognize it right away, so we are seeing an entire group of people, convinced that they are participating in a civil rights advocacy movement also being indoctrinated into a separate hate movement, under the impression that these two movements are the same.

With such poor boundaries being maintained between these two ideally separate movements, and such overlap growing, how long can I honestly maintain that these are two separate movements?

Meanwhile, innocent Palestinians are being bombed, children are starving, far-right governments on both sides of the conflict are gloating in the support they get from American conservatives and leftists respectively, and functionally, I hear nobody advocating for peace anymore, only the destruction of their enemies. Palestinians are being so incredibly demeaned, by both the people who want to destroy them and their sovereignty, and the people who claim to be supportive of them.

Sane, rational people who are advocating for peaceful solutions are disregarded and voices on the fringe are centered. People are witnessing what they interpret as a genocide unfolding and in response are advocating for a counter-genocide. Can they not see how this actively impedes the peace process? They give legitimacy to (false) far-right Israeli nationalist claims of Palestinian statehood as an inherent danger to the safety of the Jewish people, and demean the Palestinian people by suggesting that what they want is revenge and not to live their lives in peace. They've made questions about the legitimacy of Hamas, an evil terrorist organization, central to the movement, instead of what should be the priority, that innocent people are suffering and that this is unacceptable. They have redefined and reappropriated Jewish words to use as antisemitic slurs and convinced their audience that using these slurs is not antisemitism.

Meanwhile, capitalizing on the above mentioned antisemitism, those who want to harm the Palestinian people, deny them statehood, are using the words and actions of these activists as ideological ammunition to fire up their anti-Palestinian base. Donald Trump literally called Joe Biden a Palestinian at the presidential debate as a slur. Republicans are using the word "Palestinian" as a slur. Netanyahu (possibly one of the worst people involved in this entire situation), in his speech to congress, was able to point to the very real antisemitic actions of activists to further cement support for him personally. By the way, saying how antisemitic activists harm Palestinians shouldn't have to be the rhetorical point we resort to. The fact that antisemitism hurts Jewish people is enough to make it a bad thing and is enough to make us avoid doing it, right?

I'm tired of turning in one direction and saying "You should NEVER say something like that about Palestinians" and then turning in the other and saying "You should NEVER say something like that about Jews". It should not have to be said that condemning the very existence of one of two ethnic groups in their shared homeland is unacceptable, and yes, it is their shared homeland, because they both live there and are both from there. It should not have to be said that you should understand what a word means before using it to insult people. Here I am in fact talking about the word Zionist, because that is a family of various movements, some of which are worthy of condemnation, but frankly, the basic premise of Zionism does not demean or degrade Palestinians at all, because it simply is the belief that Jewish people have the right to return to and form communities in their homeland.

I'm kind of opening myself up to get a lot of criticism here, but I wanted to get these thoughts out, because I have been finding them enormously frustrating. My heart breaks for all the innocent Palestinians who are suffering and have a lackluster movement advocating on their behalf, and my heart breaks for all the Jewish people who have lost friends to antisemitic conspiracy. My heart breaks for the victims of 10/7 and their families, as well as the Jewish community who was interrupted in the mourning of their losses. My heart breaks for all of the Palestinians who have lost friends and family in the subsequent destruction in Gaza and the immense violence and famine we are seeing.

Please root your activism in peace and compassion, not hatred and destruction. Please think before you speak about entire groups of people. Learn about what words mean before you use them to condemn others. Learn about Jewish people, Palestinian people, their lives, their cultures, and why they both feel such a strong connection to the land. Make this about healing, love, and reconciliation, and not about being right.

[mostly-imagines]

I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities. 

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual. 

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still. 

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that. 

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part. 

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people. 

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to. 

“How old were you?” 

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.  

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go. 

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.” 

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up. 

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.” 

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose. 

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family. 

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.” 

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.” 

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮

[undiscovered-horizon]

[It’s considered good etiquette to ask a man about his wife’s wellbeing. Except if the man in question is Dracule Mihawk.]

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Garp hates having to call Mihawk, mainly because of the warlord's attitude. Used to the usual "yes, sir!" of the Marines, a man with his own will and agenda is not something he entirely knows how to navigate. Especially since both of them know that the World Government needs the warlords more than they need the bureaucracy. And that doesn't exactly help in exercising power.

His attempts at diplomacy have burst into flames each time and today isn't going to be much different:

"How’s the missus?" Garp asks in the nicest tone he can force although he's aware that Mihawk knows how much the vice admiral hates asking for Dracule's assistance.

Mihawk only scoffs. "Are you calling just to spoil my mood or is there another reason for your impertinence?"

"I was just trying to-"

"Don't," he cuts him off in a stern voice. "If you have business with me, speak fast. If you're interested in my wife, I know where you live, Garp. I'd suggest losing your unwelcome nosiness before you lose something else."

Little did Garp know at the time but his little question was possibly the worst strategy he could think of. Dracule Mihawk is not like most men and the mere mention of his wife by acquaintances only enrages him. Work and private life do not ever mix. And he'll be damned if someone tries to breach that, even in the form of a courtesy. Therefore, the rest of the call was filled with openly insulting answers that were bold even for Mihawk. A veiled threat or two also found their way into their rather tense conversation.

You know he's done with Garp when he lets out a frustrated grunt. Sometimes you wonder if this grumpy, forever dissatisfied version of him is the only side of Mihawk his acquaintances know. Maybe he really is two men in the form of one.

He's sitting at his desk, thinking about something and not bothering to get up for now. Considering the fact that his hat is lying on the table and not on his head, Mihawk is probably not planning on going out anytime soon. Then again, judging by his spoiled mood, his homestay is a blessing for the first poor sods that would cross his path.

In slow steps, you stroll to his side, letting your hand brush through his hair. He doesn't say anything, only leans his head further towards you. The thing about Mihawk is that he loved to reject and decline but he never does so to you. No, in your case it's the opposite - he revels in allowing you whatever you want.

So intimidating and combative, yet soft and looking for intimacy. Truly, two men with the face of one.

"My mother used to say that each grey hair is one thing we worry about," you say quietly. "At this rate, love, your whole head will be white by noon."

"Your mother also says that milk goes sour because gnomes piss in it," he retorts. Yes, your mother and her strange folk beliefs... She's probably the only person Mihawk can force himself to be nice to despite his dislike.

His response earns a hearty laugh from you. Clear as day, you can see his posture relax as he listens to the music of your happiness. If he even thinks about the possibility of Garp or any other of his acquaintances hearing it, he might just get furious again.

"Well, nobody's perfect," you say between chuckles.

Then, Mihawk gently grabs your hand and lowers it to his face. With softness and passion that hardly befits a man of his infamy, he kisses the inside of your hand. "You seem to be doing so effortlessly."

[pawberri]

The key problem with "proship vs anti" discourse is that the most extreme versions of each side, the ones who actually bother to identify with these labels, accepted each others worst takes as arguments they had to debate. "Fiction =/= reality" is, in practice, an absurdly reductionist, anti-intellectual, thought-terminating-cliche that dictates we can learn nothing about a person via art and that their fiction reflects no political or moral messaging worthy of critique. In response to this, the "puriteens" who are too young to possibly hope to articulate their discomfort, to untangle their position from what is often real trauma experienced online, simply argue "yes, fiction influences and reflects reality in a 1 to 1 capacity." They, and people who want to use the groundwork they laid to make bad-faith callouts, make bad arguments about how the action of engaging in problematic fiction is on equal ground to real life abuse, or is a clear indicator of interest in real life abuse. Both of these arguments are terrible, but each side seems to radicalize the other further and further into their own brands of anti-intellectual reactionary belief. "Proshippers" become libertarian absolutists about free speech and view all transgression as righteous and alternative and therefore leftist. They gain a reactionary nostalgia for the past, desiring a time when people didn't seem to care about the implications of art. "Antis" become authoritarian and hypervigilant for signs of moral decay, at their worst, willing to align themselves with government bodies that offer carceral solutions to the debate. They are willing to use harassment as a tool of punishment, which then leads to false accusations and a fear of openness that puts people at risk of being triggered via obfuscation. (That said, proshippers also take part in plenty of harassment.)

I will say that I believe both of these movements are equally sensitive to co-opting by right-wing forces. We see the authoritarian tendencies of anti culture in harassment campaigns and even the way Republican law makers co-opt "grooming." The proship/fic crowd has such extreme nostalgia for the past that I often see people align themselves with the cultures of 4chan or other happily right-wing websites. They so heavily reject the idea that a drawn sexual depiction of a child could reflect any desire that they are disinterested in analyzing what the motivation behind the depiction is. i.e If we track the history of lolicon in Japan we do find that is, yes, countercultural, but that counter culture is right wing, very misogynistic, and defensive of patriarchial Japanese culture as it is and was including its culture around rape and abuse. Plenty of fictional content works as radicalization material, and radicalization material needs to be ambiguous. There is a valid reason to be hesitant to trust people who consume this content, even if I do not believe most of them will ever be dangerous towards children. The mere presence of sexuality is not enough to make a movement left wing. This kind of thing can again be seen in right-wing libertarian movements in the US. (And even leftist movements can be bigoted and even "pro-pedophilia" or otherwise disinterested in social reform around abuse.)

Is all content with elements of age-play this way? No. But to me, that is why kink media deserves to be treated as art and analyzed, critiqued, treated seriously. It doesn't have to do anything to anyone to be worthy of a moral critique. Said moral critique just doesn't warrant harassment and cruelty and reactionary exaggerations of the person consuming said content.

Anyway, what's my point in saying all this? I don't know. I'm just begging you to tag your God damn content with specific tags instead of random and nebulous shit like "dead dove" or "dark content", and also begging you to stop harassing people who do tag their content so I don't have to guess what "dead dove" and "dark content" mean. No one will erase incest kink fics or people who feel sickened by the idea of them off this earth because we aren't god, but we could at least all be responsible about tagging, flagging, and age-gating our stuff.

[star-sim]

head over heels ☆ sunghoon park

☆ spider-man! sunghoon x single mother! fem! reader ☆ summary: being a single mother was hard, especially when you lived in such a bustling, yet crime-ridden city. as a mother you personally dislike spider-man, even if your toddler son was obsessed with him. thank goodness, you have your best friend, sunghoon, to help you out at times. but little do you know, that same best friend of yours was spider-man. uh oh! ☆ genre: spider-man! au, friends to lovers, reader is a single mother, riki is your kid lol (can be interpreted as either adopted or biological), baddie reader alert! , down bad! + protective! sunghoon, slow-burn ish/very subtle romance ☆ warning(s)? minor violence ☆ word count: 16.9k words ☆ based off of "head over heels" by tears for fears, also i hope this reads as comic-booky lol

reblogs and feedback is appreciated!

"Sunghoon, is it just me or is Spider-Man the worst thing that's ever happened to this city?"

Sunghoon dropped the kitchen knife in his hand, the one that he was currently using to dice a few carrots.

Clunk!

The man looked over his shoulder to where you were.

It was only a few minutes ago that you came back from work— your 9-5 office job. The moment that your apartment door slammed shut, you kicked off your god-awful shoes, threw your keys aside, and made your way to the kitchen, where you found Sunghoon peacefully already making dinner.

It wasn't abnormal for Sunghoon to be casually in your apartment. In fact, it was more than ordinary.

Sunghoon was a good friend, someone that you had an infinite amount of trust in. Sometimes, your boss liked to fuck you over and make you work overtime, and sometimes your coworkers were so insufferable that all of your energy was spent, so it was convenient that Sunghoon would hang around your apartment and watch over it, and when the time came, make you dinner.

He never minded it. He actually quite enjoyed it. A lot.

Especially because house-sitting came with an extra responsibility: taking care of your son, Riki.

You were a single mother with a full-time job. Of course Sunghoon wouldn't mind taking some of the load off your back.

Currently, you sat at your kitchen table, flopped over yourself. You were still in your work clothes, your face still made up. Your feet ached, and your eyelids felt heavy.

You never questioned why Sunghoon had so much time on his hands, enough time to babysit and house-sit for you. 

"Y-Yeah," Sunghoon answered, clearing his throat. "The worst."

Yes, he did have a job. Yes, his job had relatively short work hours. Yes, it paid pretty well. 

And it was because Sunghoon was Spider-Man. 

But you didn't have to know that.

"Riki's been napping since he got home from daycare," Sunghoon changed the subject. "He wouldn't stop calling out for you, so I had to show him a picture of you for him to fall asleep."

At the mention of your son's name, you perked up. Almost as if all of your tiredness melted away, you jumped to your feet, disappearing into the hallway. 

Sunghoon couldn't help the grin that seeped onto his face when you came out with Riki, your one year-old son scooped up in your arms. From the kitchen, he could hear you coo at your son's sleepy face, giggling to yourself as Riki clutched onto you, digging his face into the crook of his neck.

"Riiiikiiii-yaaa!" you drawled, your voice sounding brighter. "I missed you, baby."

Sunghoon laughed, nearly chopping off his finger when Riki babbled some incoherent string of sounds, still sleepy from his long afternoon nap. 

You brought Riki into the kitchen, sitting him down onto his baby-chair. 

Sunghoon listened quietly, his attention directed at making the best meal possible, as you chattered with your son.

There was something so joyful about hearing you gush over Riki's every attempt to pronounce literally any coherent word, squealing when he managed to say, "dog." 

"Mama!" Riki exclaimed, making grabby hands at you. From his peripheral vision, Sunghoon could see you melting, instantly scooping your son back up again, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses.

One of things that Sunghoon loved about you: your endless devotion to your son.

You'd lay down your life for Riki, and it was one of the most loveable things about you.

"Hoo!" Riki laughed. "Hoo!"

The second thing that Sunghoon loved about you? Your son himself.

"Sunghoon, Riki wants you," you said, a smile in your voice. Riki couldn't pronounce Sunghoon, or even Hoon, so he instead opted for the much easier option: 'Hoo.'

Sunghoon instantly dropped his kitchen utensils, quickly washing and drying his hands. You hoisted up your son, carefully placing him into Sunghoon's arms while still having a gentle hold on him.

Sunghoon took the child.

Riki was a beautiful child. Sunghoon had spent a lot of time with him, to the point that he grew very fond of him. If there was something that he and Riki had in common, it was their love for you.

The three of you stayed like that for a few pulses: Sunghoon embracing Riki, while you stood close by, your hands still holding onto Riki.

Sunghoon could see both the tiredness and love in your eyes, and the youthful glimmer in Riki's chubby face.

There were moments like this, where you and Riki were simply close to him, relying on him for whatever support he could give, Sunghoon wished it could last forever.

Then, the three of you sat down to eat. 

The rest of the night was quiet. You bathed Riki while Sunghoon prepared his clothes and diapers, and at the end, the two of you tucked Riki in.

"Good night, Riki," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You were already at the doorway, fingering the light switch, when Sunghoon's eyes glazed over Riki. 

"Good night, kiddo," he said quietly, so quiet that even Sunghoon couldn't hear himself, before ruffling Riki's hair.

"So, how was work?"

Perhaps, one of Sunghoon's favorite times of the day was after dinner, after you both washed up and Riki was in bed. 

The two of you liked to hang around your living room, and just talk. It wasn't like you had any good work friends to talk to, but you didn't mind. After all, you had Sunghoon.

It was another one of those especially stressful and hectic days at work, so Sunghoon brought out a bottle of champagne.

"So bad," you huffed, reclining back on your couch, throwing an arm over your eyes. "So fucking bad."

Sunghoon nudged you with his foot, handing you a glass of sparkly champagne. Then, he rested at the head of the couch, gently taking your head into his hands and placing it onto his lap. His lanky fingers made his way to your shoulders, pressing down onto them. Slowly, he began to massage you.

"What happened?"

You groaned, sinking back into the warmth that was Sunghoon's fingers. "My fuckass boss. Decided to make me do the intern's work because I was five minutes late."

"That sucks," Sunghoon murmured, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made you sigh in relief. "Is he giving you a hard time?"

"Always," you sighed. "I don't know why Choi promoted him. He's got a stick up his ass."

Sunghoon frowned.

He heard you cuss out your shitty boss and coworkers all the time, but he knew deep down, no matter how much you despised them, you would never abandon ship. It was in your blood to care too much, to put your all into something— anything— and expect nothing in return.

And that's what Sunghoon loved so much about you. 

That's right, loved.

He threw that word around a lot when it came to you, but he truly meant it. 

Sunghoon loved you. He didn't know how, whether it be as a friend, or as a lover, but he loved you and that's all he needed to know. 

He loved you since the day you met in your senior years of high school. 

He loved you when you cradled his face as he shed hot tears over his heartbreak. 

He loved you when you and him snuck around the college dorms, creeping into each other's rooms to enjoy late-night ramen.

He loved you when you met your (now ex-) boyfriend Taehyun, and he didn't even think of loving you any less when you announced that you were having a child with him three years after graduating college.

And he loved you now as you slept peacefully on your couch, curling up against what warmth Sunghoon could give you.

Sunghoon gazed at you.

How could he not resist falling in love with you?

Your eyes kept fluttering as they were shut, your hands randomly twitching at times. You've been working so hard to provide for you and your son, while also sacrificing your time to spend with Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone rang. It was loud, loud enough that Sunghoon jumped and your body instinctively jerked in its place.

"Shit— shit!" 

Of course Sunghoon knew exactly where his phone was. He shot a spider web across your house to grab his blaring phone.

Under the dim light, his blue phone screen illuminated the room.

Incoming call... Mr. Lee, it read.

Uh-oh.

Sunghoon was about to take the call, when he noticed you stirring in your sleep.

"Sung...hoon?" you muttered softly. Sunghoon immediately darted to your side.

"Shhh, it's nothing, [Name]," he said gently. He reached out to cup your cheek, to which you nuzzled your face into his palm, softly letting out a sleepy whimper. "Go back to sleep."

After a few moments of stirring, you fell back into your slumber.

Sunghoon glanced at his phone.

Incoming call... Mr. Lee. He couldn't miss it.

Then he glanced back at you, laying on the couch, shivering into yourself.

Fuck it.

Sunghoon scooped you up in his arms, doing his best to be gentle with you. As the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it wasn't always easy trying to control his spidey senses and heightened abilities. But when it came to you, it almost came naturally.

He carried you to your bedroom, tucking you in with as many pillows and blankets as he could find.

"Good night," Sunghoon whispered. He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes studied your face. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, before swallowing down hard. Would it be weird to give your forehead a kiss? He didn't even kiss Riki, because he didn't feel like it was his right to. Sunghoon sighed. He turned away from you, taking one more glance over his shoulder before he turned off the lights and shut your bedroom door.

(Of course, Sunghoon went to go check up on Riki before he cracked open your apartment window, already in his red and blue glory.)

"Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Lee," Sunghoon muttered into his phone. "I know, I'm already on it. Yes. Okay. Bye."

Sunghoon huffed to himself as he jammed his phone into his pocket, muttering curses under his breath.

A bank robbery on Main Street, nothing to be surprised at. The city's crime-rate had been increasing lately, much to Sunghoon's chagrin. The cold air kissed his masked cheeks as he swung from building to building.

It had become a routine for him. Every night, after listening to you talk enough for you to insist that he went home, or staying up late enough to see you fall asleep, Sunghoon usually found himself doing his night patrol. It was mundane, a slow and conventional routine, but Sunghoon loved it.

Seokmin Lee, or DK, was a man a few years his senior, and also the man employing him. To put it simply, DK was a bit of a mad scientist, and under certain circumstances, Sunghoon and him met. After a spider bite, DK's genetically modified organisms, and a lot of crime-fighting, Sunghoon became Spider-Man.

As Sunghoon peeked over the hedge, he watched the group of burglars sneakily creep out of the dark bank. It was insane to him how poor the security was, but what was more concerning was the cartoonish sack of money the robbers were carrying over their shoulders, and the fact that they were wearing black and white striped shirts. They looked like the robbers in Riki's kiddy cartoons. 

If Riki was here, Sunghoon thought, he'd probably start laughing.

In one fell swoop, Sunghoon swung down to the robbers, landing a kick square on one of the robbers' heads.

"Agh—!"

"Good evening, gentlemen," Sunghoon greeted calmly, but his voice was filled with contempt. With one of the assailants knocked down, Sunghoon put his hands on his hips, cocking his head. "What're you up to tonight?"

He gazed at their faces: painted with horror and terror. Why didn't they even think of wearing masks when committing a crime? How dumb were they?

"S-Spiderman?!"

There's a pulse of silence, where Sunghoon just stared at them incredulously, almost expecting some sort of retaliation. Even though he was masked, his expression read, 'Can you guys try to put up a fight at least?'

"Get him!" The robbers yelled, beginning to charge at him.

"Let's not be ridiculous, guys" Sunghoon said exasperated, sighing. 

He shot a web at two of the robbers as he attempted to attack him, before wrapping the white ropes around them, sticking them together. Another burglar tried to sneak up behind him, but they were almost pathetically too slow for his spider-like abilities. 

Within minutes, Sunghoon had the criminals tied up with spider webs. He'd already called the cops.

"Curse you, Spider-man!" 

Really, tonight was playing out like one of Riki's cartoons. It was almost funny.

"Yeah, yeah," Sunghoon waved off, brushing off any dirt on his suit. Before he shot a web up to a building, Sunghoon turned over his shoulder. "Next time, get better outfits. You guys look hilarious."

With that, Sunghoon began swinging away, ignoring the curses from the little criminals, whose cries got smaller and smaller.

The worst part about dealing with crime in this city was the outcomes. People saw that other people were attempting to commit crimes, leading them to want to commit crimes too. It was a never-ending snowball effect. It seemed like every day the crime was just escalating. A few months ago it was just petty theft and the occasional mugging every week. Now it seemed like there was some large scheme every day.

If the helicopters flying overhead and the police sirens weren't telling enough, the entire city was awake once again, trying to catch a glimpse of the commotion down on main street.

Checking his phone, there were already several news outlets trying to get a quick buck from reporting the situation. That was probably one of the worst aspects of crime-fighting: the concerning amount of people trying to profit off of it. They just loved to use Sunghoon's red and blue likeness on the front covers.

Truthfully, Sunghoon didn't care about fame. He couldn't stand the reporters shoving microphones in his face. 

He only agreed to be Spider-Man for one reason and one reason only.

Ding!

Sunghoon slipped his phone out of his pocket.

[name]: just woke up i heard there was a robbery 

[name]: you went home right? are you safe?

The corners of Sunghoon's lips lifted briefly. You had a specific way of showing you care for him, and it was exactly this.

sunghoon: yeah i'm safe

sunghoon: i just went out to get you more groceries

sunghoon: youre missing eggs and milk

[name]: thank you hoon, you didn't have to

But he did have to.

After all, you were you, and you deserved nothing but the best. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to take some responsibility off your shoulders.

sunghoon: i'll be back in 10

sunghoon: go back to sleep

Sunghoon was true to his word, as he returned within 10 minutes, with a bag of groceries in hand, to see you curled up on the couch, waiting for him to return. He couldn't help but smile.

"Hoo!" 

Riki?

"Hoo, Hoo!"

Sunghoon was shaken awake by a weight on his chest, and soft, chubby hands grabbing his face.

If it weren't for his incredible spider abilities, Sunghoon thought that he would have punted someone. Luckily, he didn't, because it was Riki that was waking him up.

"Riki?" Sunghoon said groggily. Taking the child in his arms and holding him close, Sunghoon sat up. He noticed that he was back in your apartment, sprawled out across your couch. He squished Riki's cheek, earning a giggle from the baby. The man rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Where's your mom?"

"Right here," your voice entered the room, a slight smile in it. Sunghoon whipped his head around to see you standing at the doorway, in your work clothes. 

You slinked over to Sunghoon and Riki. 

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you smiled at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you. "What time is it?"

"Almost 8AM," you answered smoothly, taking your son out of Sunghoon's arms and stroking Riki's hair.

Sunghoon immediately jumped to his feet. He usually woke up an hour or two before that to prepare breakfast for you! 

"Oh shit—!"

"Relax," you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze and pushing him back down onto the couch. "I already made breakfast. Riki's already fed, too."

Sunghoon watched as you gave Riki a peck on the cheek, before giving your kid back to him.

"I'll be back by 6," you told him as you slipped on your shoes, "Breakfast is on the table, just heat it up if needed."

"Right," Sunghoon nodded slowly. "See you. Have a good day at work."

"You too," you said in a sing-songy voice, before heading out the door, leaving Sunghoon and Riki alone.

.

.

.

"Mama!" Riki cooed, making grabby hands at the door.

Sunghoon gently bonked the baby's head with his fist. "She just left."

Riki's lips formed into a pout, his eyebrows furrowing together as his chubby cheeks puffed out. 

"Mama!" he argued back.

Sunghoon couldn't help but poke the kid's cheeks. "I already said, she just left."

And cue the tears.

Sunghoon and Riki had beef. Nothing serious, just that Riki, even if he was an actual baby, liked to bother Sunghoon. And because Riki was already so much like you, it was hard to say no to him. Even so, he found himself butting heads with the child from time to time.

As Riki wailed, Sunghoon sighed, hoisting him up. 

"What am I going to do with you..." he muttered to himself.

"Ah wah mama! (I want Mama!)" Riki cried, squirming against Sunghoon's chest.

Days with Riki were fun. 

And exhausting. 

But more fun than not.

It usually started with feeding him, but thanks to you, he was already fed. The daycare didn't open until another few hours, so in this time Sunghoon found himself being the most shameful version of himself that he could think of. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But it was definitely a side of himself that made him cringe.

Case and point: Sunghoon's dreadful baby voice.

As he sat against the living room floor, Sunghoon let Riki sit on his lap against his chest. For such an active child, Riki especially liked it when Sunghoon read to him. 

So that's what Sunghoon did.

Riki's little baby books were the interactive kind, the ones where the little caterpillars sprawled across the cardboard pages were fuzzy and the pop-out orange tree in the corner actually smelled of citrus.

It was unfortunate, at least to Sunghoon, because he always started off the reading with a completely normal voice, and by the end, he'd be talking to Riki with a high-pitched baby voice.

"Feel the grass, Riki," Sunghoon guided Riki's much smaller hand to the furry grassy patch on the book. He didn't even notice the way his voice got softer, going up airily at the end of his sentences. Riki babbled at the feeling of the soft texture under his fingertips, his eyes squeezing together as his high giggles filled the room. Sunghoon grinned. "Feels nice, right?.

Riki laughed again, clapping his chubby hands. 

"I bet it does," Sunghoon rubbed his knuckle against Riki's cheek. 

"Hoo!" Riki babbled suddenly.

Sunghoon picked the baby up, placing him on his feet and turning him around so that Sunghoon could see his face. Placing his hands on Riki's side to stabilize him, Sunghoon hummed. "What's up?"

"Hoo!" Riki repeated again, making grabby hands up at him. "Ub! (Up!)"

"Aren't you a little too old for upsies?" Sunghoon asked Riki as if he wasn't one year old, but still complied, lifting the kid up and resting Riki's face on his shoulder. Riki really liked it when Sunghoon carried him around while he did stuff, probably because Sunghoon's height made it a thrilling experience for him.

Sunghoon really enjoyed Riki's presence, even if the kid liked to give him hell. 

Which was why he narrowed his eyes, looking around suspiciously as if you were there to catch him red-handed, before he tossed Riki’s small body into the air. 

If Riki was any other normal baby, he'd scream in fear. But he wasn't. So all Riki did was let out an excited squeal. Almost immediately, Sunghoon shot a web at him, yanking him down from the air and into his arms in an instant.

"You better not tell your mother," Sunghoon booped Riki's nose as the baby clapped his hands, giggling. "She'll kick my ass if she knew that I was throwing you around."

And she'd also beat my ass if she knew that I was Spider-Man.

Speaking of which...

Sunghoon knew better than anyone how you felt about Spider-Man.

In short, you hated him. You hated Spider-Man, and you almost never failed to let Sunghoon know that.

You had a pretty simple reason: even if Spider-Man was a crime-fighter, the way that he was publicized made him more like a celebrity than a public servant. Because of this, people chose to commit more crime in the hopes of getting some sort of attention, which completely defeated the purpose of having a crime-fighter like Spider-Man.

Sunghoon was mere weeks into his job as Spider-Man, in the middle of bandaging up the cut on his hand that he got from fighting crime, when you suddenly barged into your apartment, throwing your bag aside as you exasperatedly began ranting about how a run-in with Spider-Man caused complete and utter hell for you when you commuted back from work. 

Many months later you still carried that sentiment.

And if he had to be honest, Sunghoon had to agree with you.

It wasn't like he detested being Spider-Man. After all, it paid his bills and allowed him to watch over you and make sure that you were safe. But, still, he wasn't a fan of the media coverage.

All he wanted to do was protect you and Riki. Was that too much to ask for?

Would Sunghoon ever tell you that he was Spider-Man? Probably not. Would you be mad at him for being Spider-Man? Probably. But would you shun him? Maybe for a month, but not any longer. Still, Sunghoon wasn't afraid of going no-contact with you for a month. It was the fear of disappointing you and losing your trust.

He'd rather die than lose your trust!

But sometimes it was difficult to conceal his identity.

Like right now.

The day went on as per usual: Sunghoon played around more with Riki, before taking him to daycare. Then, Sunghoon went to do his Spider-Man activities, before picking Riki up again. It was the end of a stressful week, so you came home early and announced that you made dinner plans for the three of you.

And that's how Sunghoon found himself sitting in a fancy dimly-lit restaurant. Across from him sat you, wearing a dress that made him stare at you for a little longer than he should have. 

Maybe it was the jazz music playing in the background, or the way that your gloss-laden lips clung to the delicate glass of champagne that you swished in your hand, but Sunghoon couldn't take his eyes off of you. 

Thanks to the fact that Riki was sitting at the table with his baby high-chair, two of the waiting staff had already mistaken you and Sunghoon for a married couple. Not that Sunghoon minded. And it didn't seem like you minded either, because all you did was throw your head back with a laugh and clutch Sunghoon's arm.

In fact, if Sunghoon had to be honest, you've been confusing him lately.

Or maybe he was confusing himself.

Because he swore that your eyes have been lingering on him lately, running over his figure from time to time before you cracked that little smug grin on your face— the type of grin that made Sunghoon shrink into himself. You've been touchier, holding his arm in the crook right in between your chest, almost like you knew that it would make him nervous. You began picking up this habit of looking at his lips, then gazing back up at his eyes, before licking your own lips with a smile. It was driving him crazy.

Why was he feeling this way?

And more importantly, why were you torturing him like this? You were a mother, you were someone well-respected and feared in your workplace because of your sheer ability to read people. You knew your effect on people, so you must know what you were doing to him. Right?

"Sunghooooon," you sang, resting your face on your hands, propped up in a way that made it impossible to ignore how good you looked tonight. Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes quivering over to you. "What're you thinking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "Nothing."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching across the table to gently hit his hand. "Don't lie to me. I know when there's something on your mind."

"Lie!" Riki giggled, repeating your words like a little parrot. "Lie! Lie!"

"See?" you ruffled your son's hair. "Even Riki agrees. What's up?"

Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but he was distracted when you reached for your glass of sparkly champagne once more, bringing it up to your lips. 

"What?" you cocked a brow at him as he stared at you. "We drank with each other last night. What's so surprising about me drinking right now?"

Sunghoon gulped. 

You were scary like that, always so straightforward. It made him piss himself, but it also made him want to melt into a pile of mush. 

"It's nothing." He cleared his throat. "I'm just stressed about work."

"Awww," you frowned. "What happened?"

Sunghoon was talking straight out of his ass, because you reached over the table, beginning to play with his hands. Your eyes were trained on the shapes that you drew on his palms, but you hummed from time to time as words tumbled out of his mouth.

You had to be doing this on purpose.

It was weird, because Sunghoon never felt this way around you. What he felt toward you was quiet, something that was a basic fact to him. But now, all he could do was watch as you fed Riki airplane-style, making funny airplane engine noises as your baby laughed, trying to calm the beating of his heart.

Why did you have so be so attractive? Why was he feeling so warm?

It was a peaceful dinner, save for the war beginning to bubble inside of Sunghoon.

That was, until a loud crash rang through the restaurant. Then, there were whispers, car sirens, and at last, shrieking. The jazz music stopped as a hush fell over the restaurant. 

Your first instinct was to take Riki out of his high-chair and into your arms, so you did that.

But the moment that you brought your eyes up to where Sunghoon should have been, he was gone.

Like, absolutely gone.

His seat was empty. His plate of food, as fell as his folded cloth napkin and silver cutlery, were left exactly as you last remembered. Sunghoon simply disappeared all of a sudden.

But before you could even say his name, another crash rang through the restaurant as someone screeched, "Giganto!"

Giganto was a self-proclaimed supervillain on the rise. The last time that you heard about him was a few months ago, when he tried to pull off some stupid scheme to take down Spider-Man. It was a pathetic attempt. But now he was back, with admittedly impressive equipment and a nasty spandex suit.

Based on your understanding of the layout of the restaurant, it seems like the front portion of it was crashed into. Which meant that the front entrance was 100% not an option. 

And that became even more apparent to you when Giganto, in his pink spandex glory, began cackling villainously, announcing his arrival. What he said in his very unnecessary villain monologue was unknown to you, because you were too distracted by Riki, who was beginning to tear up in fear.

"Shh, shh," you held your son against your shoulder, your hand coming up to cup his ear. You pressed kisses on his face, petting his hair in an attempt to calm him down. "Baby, Baby it's okay. We're okay. Don't cry, Mama's here—"

"Run!" someone shrieked as another contraption began prowling into the restaurant. It was massive and made of some metal, some sort of machine that Giganto probably made to assert his dominance. It didn't matter to you. What did matter was the two people that you cared about: Riki, and.... hey, where's Sunghoon?

Your feet were just about to start moving when your eyes glazed over Sunghoon's still-empty seat. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Sunghoon?" you said to yourself, your eyes wide as they flickered around the slowly-crumbling restaurant for any familiar sign of your best friend. "Sunghoon!"

"Hoo!" Riki cried out.

You couldn't find him, amidst all the dust and hoards of people running past you.

You felt Riki's tears wet your shoulder.

You had to get out of here, if you wanted to save yourself and Riki.

But Sunghoon...

If you did not start running now, you would die. Riki would die.

I'm sorry, Sunghoon, you squeezed your eyes shut, before your feet picked up. You ran, you ran as fast as you could, trying your best to ignore your motherly instinct to stop and kiss Riki as he wailed. You didn't even realize it until your face was wet that you, too, were crying.

It could be fear, it could be uncertainty, it could be because your own son was sobbing. Or maybe it was guilt. Guilt because you could have waited for Sunghoon, but didn't.

Guilt, because you made it out of the crumbling restaurant, but Sunghoon did not.

Guilt, because you left your best friend to die.

You didn't know how long you ran, but you ran far enough that you could no longer hear the helicopters and screaming, only your and Riki's sniffles.

"Shhh," you shakily consoled Riki, rubbing circles on his back, doing your best to ignore the weight on your chest. "It's okay, Baby. We're okay."

But you knew you weren't. Not after what happened back there.

How could you abandon him back there, when he's done everything for you? How could you do him like that, as if he wasn't the sole reason that you weren't dead in a ditch right now? You were a horrible friend, and an even worse person for letting that happen.

All of a sudden, you were lifted off your feet. Literally. One moment you were walking under a streetlight, the next you were in the air.

"S-Spider-Man?!"

With one hand wrapped tightly around Riki, your other hand came up to grip the hero's bicep. Your stomach did flips as you looked down, seeing the city beneath you.

"Hey there," his voice was solemn.

"Where the—" you squeezed your eyes shut as you peered down— "Where the hell are you taking us?"

You felt Spider-Man tense under your touch, almost like he was wincing.

"I-I'm taking you home."

Your eyes narrowed. 

Was it normal for a superhero to be stuttering as they save a civilian?

"And you're taking me home because you know where I live? How?" You felt bad for being so cold, for being so incredibly frigid toward him, but you couldn't let your guard down. Not when you were 100 meters in the air holding your son. Not when you already lost Sunghoon back there.

"I don't," Spider-Man quipped quickly. It was now that you noticed the cut on his shoulder, with dark red blood seeping out and exposing his skin. "Will you show me the way?"

You glanced down at Riki, who was now beginning to fall asleep. He was unlike you in the way that he liked thrill, even when he was just a little baby

You couldn’t say that you were happy with who Spider-Man was, but you were not going to reject the help he was giving you right now. Not when your son was on the line.

You huffed. “Make a turn right here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spider-Man muttered.

You did not know why, but it seemed like the sound of the hero’s voice made Riki stir.

“Hoo,” Riki babbled sleepily. “Hoo…”

Sunghoon.

Again, you felt Spider-Man tense.

“My friend…” you began, swallowing your pride. “His name is Sunghoon. I-I couldn’t find him back there.”

Spider-Man hummed.

“Can you… I mean— Do you think you can look for him? I’m really worried.

Spider-Man gazed at you, looking at you with his masked face. For some reason, you thought that he was grinning behind the mask, and you almost began shouting at him. But the hero only nodded, saying, “I promise you that he’s safe, Ma’am.”

You looked at him pensively, doubt painted across your expression as you chewed on your lip.

“But if it makes you feel better I’ll look for him.”

You nodded slowly, still doubtful.

The rest of the trip to your apartment is quiet.

Sunghoon 100% expected you to start yelling at him the moment he appeared in your apartment doorway. And he 100% was going to smile through all thirty minutes of it.

“You’re so fucking stupid, why did you disappear like that?! Do you know how much that scared me?! I thought I lost you and you died, Oh my God you’re so fucking annoying, I was losing my mind—“

Sunghoon was laughing at you as you lightly punched his arms, his sharp canine teeth peeking through, when he noticed the glassy sheen over your eyes. 

You had tears in your eyes, hot tears that you were blinking back as worried words spilled from your lips. Immediately, Sunghoon stopped his laughing, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

He was happy that you cared about him so much, unable to hide the way his lips still pulled upwards as you pressed your face into his chest.

It was late at night by now. Riki was already sound asleep. There was something about the way you sobbed in his arms that warmed his heart, that someone as strong as you would allow him the privilege of seeing you tremble. 

"I didn't know you cared so much, [Name]," Sunghoon teased. He expected you to hit him again, tell him to shut up, and maybe bite back a laugh, but all you did was shake your head.

"No," you murmured against his shirt. "I failed you."

"What're you talking about?" Sunghoon squeezed your shoulder. "You didn't fail anyone."

"No..." you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging onto Sunghoon even harder. You stayed like that for a little bit, simply holding the man in your arms like he'd disappear. Then, you pulled away, letting your gaze meet his. "I... I ran away when I should have waited for you."

Sunghoon only stared at you confused.

You licked your lips, your expression pinching. "I-I got scared so I ran, I ran so far away a-and—" you let out a heavy breath, pushing your face into your hands— "I-I'm such a shitty friend, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon blinked.

.

.

.

Oh!

Sunghoon remembered now, the way he disappeared from the face of earth the moment that disaster struck. One moment he was trying to breathe when you looked at him, the next he was in a tight spandex suit. 

Of course you had to 'abandon' him. Sunghoon was Spider-Man! There was no way that you would be able to stay back to wait for him.

It should be easy to explain to you, that you could not have possibly been at fault, because the situation was already imbalanced to begin with.

But there was just one little problem!

How was Sunghoon going to explain this to you without revealing that he's Spider-Man?

Sunghoon pulled his lip between his teeth, unable to hide the awkward-panicked expression painting itself on his features as you cried into his shoulder.

Curse you for being such a caring person, he sucked in a sharp breath. 

He didn't like seeing you cry, so he needed to dig himself out of this one soon.

What the hell was he supposed to say now?

"D-Don't cry," Sunghoon's lips moved on their own. "It's not your fault."

"It is though!" you cried.

"No..." Sunghoon let his panic mode take over. Quick, he needed to make something up. "I-I... It was my fault. I.. uhh..."

The man's eyes darted over to the kitchen, where in the rack lay plates, bowls, and Riki's baby utensils.

Ah, Riki.

It was a small inside joke between Sunghoon and you that Riki was always gassy. After all, he was a baby.

"I needed to use the bathroom really badly," Sunghoon swallowed all his pride. "A-And I was there the entire time... because it was really bad."

You pulled away from him, taking a look at his face. If it wasn't for the awkward topic at hand, you'd call out how uncomfortable he looked. Your brows furrowed, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "There was no way that you could have waited for me... I was in the bathroom the entire time..."

"Doing what?"

"You know..." Sunghoon felt his face warm up. "Doin' my business..."

"Oh."

.

.

.

Sunghoon wanted the floor to open up below him and eat him whole, because within seconds, your distressed, pained crying face melted into a massive smile. You threw your head back, your eyes crinkling into thin crescents, sweet laughs mixed with sniffles spilling out of your lips.

Sunghoon stood there, ears and cheeks pink, with his dignity shattered in his hands. He wanted to die, yes, but it made him feel better than you were no longer crying, just laughing. He couldn't help but feel a grin grow on his face.

"I'm sorry, Sunghoon," you squeezed his shoulders, wiping your eyes-- tears not from crying earlier but from laughing so hard. The way you brought your hand up to ruffle his hair, a reassuring smile on your face, made Sunghoon feel like a child, only furthering his embarrassment. "I didn't mean to laugh."

Sunghoon's lips pulled downward, forming an unintentional pout.

"Awww," you patted his head even more, "I appreciate your honesty. It takes a lot of courage to admit that."

It was definitely hard to stay embarrassed when you were so gentle about it, reassuring him every other sentence that you weren't judging him.

Sure, Sunghoon just embarrassed himself in front of you, but it was better than having to see you cry over something that you had no agency over to begin with.

Anything for you.

"Papa!"

"R-Riki, I'm not your-"

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now!

It was another afternoon of looking after Riki. 

Riki just got back from daycare, and took a long and cozy nap. Sunghoon shook him awake an hour later. However, instead of Riki's wide owlish eyes blinking a few times before recognizing Sunghoon's face, exclaiming "Hoo!" as he always did, Riki seemed to learn a new word.

"Papa!"

Papa.

Riki knew the word mama. Of course he did, he knew you.

However, from the beginning, Riki never knew his own legal father, Taehyun. Sure, Taehyun dropped by ever-so-often, but he was no more than a stranger to Riki than a random person on the street.

Riki never says papa. 

But now he just called Sunghoon papa.

Sunghoon had been spending the past 10 minutes trying to get Riki to call him Hoo again, but it seemed like nothing would work.

Sunghoon held both of Riki's tiny hands.

"I'm Hoo," Sunghoon said slowly. "Say it to me, Riki. Say Hoo."

"H.... H..." Riki began.

"That's right, you're almost there."

"H...H..." Riki's expression pinched. "Papa!"

"No!"

Truth be told, Sunghoon wanted to cry.

Riki calling him Papa and basically recognizing him as his father figure? The thought of it made Sunghoon tear up already.

He always tried his best to be there for you and Riki. To say that you and Riki were the joys of his life would be an understatement; Sunghoon did everything, even undertaking sketchy hero jobs, for the sake of you two. It wasn't like he expected anything in exchange. In fact, Sunghoon didn't even expect to be considered part of the family.

"Papa!"

"Riki..." Sunghoon's chest tightened at the little proud smile painted across Riki's face. "Riki, I'm not your—"

Ding dong! the doorbell rang. 

Leaving Riki on the couch, Sunghoon opened the door without a thought.

Big mistake.

Because the person standing loud and proud at the door was the worst person that Sunghoon could think of.

"T-Taehyun?"

Taehyun Kang, the legal father of Riki, and also your slightly-obsessed ex-boyfriend.

Sunghoon gave Taehyun a once-over. Taehyun was dressed in a crisp dress-shirt, almost as if he was dressed up for a date. He held a bouquet of flowers, his hair slicked back neatly. 

The moment that Taehyun's eyes fell upon Sunghoon, his eyes narrowed, something that wasn't surprising. You and Taehyun dated for a few years, and during those years you were friends with Sunghoon, too. Taehyun was always malicious towards Sunghoon, something that both you and Sunghoon never understood.

Sunghoon was in love with you, yes, and that love extended to respecting you and your relationships. He never did anything in all the years that you were with Taehyun.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyun spat.

"I'm—"

Taehyun pushed past Sunghoon, stepping through the doorway. "Whatever, where's [Name]?"

"She's—"

"Papa!"

Shit.

Taehyun perked up at the sound of Riki's voice, rushing to the living room and throwing the bouquet aside. Taehyun scooped Riki up into his arms as he coddled him dramatically, exclaiming, "Why didn't you tell me he learned that word?"

Sunghoon's heart sank. Was it bad that he felt a twinge of jealousy? Maybe Riki said papa and thought of Taehyun and not him. After all, Taehyun was supposed to be his father, not Sunghoon. But still. Did Taehyun spend nearly every waking minute with Riki? Did Taehyun put in any effort to spend time with Riki, other than a visit every three months? Has Taehyun ever even changed Riki's diapers? Brush his teeth? Make him breakfast?

Sunghoon felt his blood boil as Taehyun pranced around your apartment— the apartment that he had no right to claim— with Riki in his arms, saying that he was anything close to being Riki's papa.

"Tae!" Sunghoon could hear Riki exclaim from the other room.

"No, Riki," Taehyun said. "You said it earlier. I'm papa."

"Tae!"

"Say Papa, Riki."

"P... P.... Tae!"

Taehyun barged back into the living room, where Sunghoon sat patiently. The moment that Riki saw Sunghoon's face, he cried, "Papa!"

"He just said it again!" Taehyun was bright, but his face fell the moment that he saw Riki's grabby hands at Sunghoon, coupled with the way that Riki squirmed in his hold. Taehyun whipped his head around. He pointed an accusatory finger at Sunghoon. "You!"

"Papa!" Riki said, this time smiling brightly at Sunghoon, something that he hadn't done once at Taehyun.

Sunghoon couldn't help but bask in the sick satisfaction he felt, but he hid it under a scowl. "What?"

"You're stealing my family," Taehyun claimed, his expression painted with anger. 

"I'm not," Sunghoon said calmly.

"You think I'm stupid?" Taehyun pressed, placing Riki down. "I know that you've been in love with [Name] since the beginning, and just because me and her are on a break, you think that you can just swoop in and play Prince Charming."

"I—"

"No, I know!" Taehyun raised his voice. Riki hated it when people raised their voice, silently cowering into himself. Taehyun would have known that if he put any ounce of effort into Riki. "I don't know what you did to Riki, to make him think that you're his father, but it's fucked up. You're fucked up. You will never be a part of this family."

Sunghoon stayed silent for a few moments. The air was tense, so silent that the only audible sound was the sound of Riki's breath.

Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath.

"What's Riki's favorite color?" was all he said.

"W-What?"

"I asked," Sunghoon looked at Taehyun boredly. "What's Riki's favorite color?"

Taehyun's eyebrows crashed together. "Why does that matter?"

"You're his dad, aren't you?" Sunghoon said simply. "You should know."

Taehyun's expression stayed scrunched together, but no words fell from his lips.

That's right, he doesn't fucking know.

"It's black." Sunghoon got up to where Riki was, scooping him up into his arms, to which Riki giggled and exclaimed Papa! quietly. "Did you know that Riki needs to hold a stuffed toy to sleep? Did you know that his favorite one is a stuffed dog named Bisco? Did you know that Riki's favorite song is Beat It by Michael Jackson?"

Sunghoon stroked Riki's hair, relishing in the way Taehyun dug his nails into his palms, his ears burning red. "Taehyun, what's Riki's dominant hand?"

Taehyun gulped. "Isn't he right-handed?"

"Nope," Sunghoon couldn't hide the satisfied grin on his face. "He's left-handed. In fact, he is allergic to the chrysanthemums that you brought over there."

The room went silent for a few more pulses.

"I might not be Riki's father, but you aren't either," Sunghoon said calmly, strolling over to the front door. "Please get out."

Taehyun never left quicker (and he took the flowers, too).

The apartment was quiet again.

Sunghoon didn't know how to feel.

He would be lying if he said that Taehyun's words didn't get to him. 

But Sunghoon also felt anger and satisfaction. Taehyun had no right to call himself a part of your family. He made you suffer, both in the past and now. He was a shitty co-parent and an even shittier dad to Riki. Sunghoon hoped that Taehyun understood his place now.

"Papa..." Riki murmured as he crawled toward Sunghoon, nuzzling his cheek into Sunghoon's hand that came up to cup his face.

"That's right," Sunghoon whispered. "Papa's here."

The day went on as normal after that fiasco.

At least, that's what Sunghoon thought.

Because after putting Riki to bed, you led Sunghoon into your bedroom.You locked the door, making Sunghoon gulp.

The serious expression on your face, and the way that you crossed your arms over your chest, freaked him out.

"Sit down." And he did so immediately, sitting his ass down on the bed the moment those words left your lips.

Sunghoon felt like he was a child about to be scolded. He chewed on his bottom lip, wringing his fingers as he carefully watched your standing figure.

"I got a call from Taehyun earlier," you said, your back turned to him.

Shit.

"Said that you were being disrespectful and brainwashing Riki." Sunghoon gulped as you glanced over your shoulder, your eyebrow cocked. "Care to explain?"

"I... I..." Sunghoon's mouth felt dry as he scrambled to gather words. "R-Riki started calling me p... papa, and Taehyun thought that I was brainwashing Riki into thinking that I was his dad, or something..."

You clicked your tongue, about to say something, but Sunghoon continued.

"I just— I just told him that he should be around more if he wanted... if he wanted Riki to call him papa," he added quickly, a grimace falling upon his expression, wincing with the way you took a deep breath.

Did Sunghoon overstep boundaries? It wasn't like you loved Taehyun— in fact you've been done with him for a while now— but it was an irrefutable fact that Taehyun was there before Sunghoon. Was Sunghoon wrong in thinking that he was even a part of your family? Was he getting ahead of himself? What if both you and Riki saw Taehyun as Riki's father figure and not him?

"Hey," Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when you put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. I'm not mad at you."

"Y-You aren't?"

You scoffed. "Of course not."

You rubbed your temples. "I'm more mad at Taehyun for barging in and causing a ruckus. Did he say anything else?"

"He said..." Sunghoon bit down on his bottom lip. Should he tell you this? "Never mind."

Your brows furrowed, pressing further. "What did he say?"

You sat down beside Sunghoon on the bed, noticing the way a deep frown painted itself on his features. You took his hand into yours, squeezing it. "I'm on your side, Sunghoon. I won't be mad."

Sunghoon licked his lips. "Just that... I will never be a part of your family."

He continued before you could respond. "I don't think I am... It just bothered me a little bit."

Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.

Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.

"You don't think that you're a part of this family?" you asked, your voice quiet. Sunghoon could hear the hurt in your voice.

"I..." You aren't going to bite, you never do. "I'd like to be... but it's not my place to say whether or not I am."

You clicked your tongue, anger rising in your tone. "And it's Taehyun's place to?"

"W-Well—"

"When has he ever done anything for this family?" your voice was filled with indignation, but your hands stayed gentle in his hair. "Taehyun will never be even half the man that you are, Sunghoon. He'll never do any of the things that you do, and that's because he's dead to this family."

You patted Sunghoon's cheek, making him look up at you. Your gaze softened, your lips curving up as you gazed at Sunghoon's wide, dark eyes. They were shiny, almost glossy, as if he was tearing up. "And I think Riki calling you papa is a testament to how much you mean to me and him. You're our family, Sunghoon."

The room was silent again. You and Sunghoon stayed like that, gazing at each other for what felt like years. 

You felt all types of emotions, the main one being sheer anger. Who did Taehyun think he was? And even more importantly, how dare he take his audacity and hurt Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was your savior, he really was. You had no idea what you would do without him.

Watching as he tried to discreetly wipe the tears in his eyes, you threw your head back, letting a few chuckles fall from your lips.

His earnesty, how willing he was to help, and his sensitive side were all things that you cherished about him; they were all things that made you fall in love with him.

You don't know when it happened, or when you realized that you, in fact, loved your best friend, but it didn't matter that much. 

It didn't help that Sunghoon was so painfully obvious. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you weren't stupid. You noticed Sunghoon staring at you for a little longer than he should, the way he got nervous whenever you touched him. It was adorable.

If you had less self-control, you would have grabbed Sunghoon's face and kissed him so hard that he'd see stars. After all, for all the little things you did in the hopes of driving him crazy, his wide eyes staring at you like you were some god drove you crazy.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to loosen up a bit. 

After all, Sunghoon had to endure Taehyun and the trouble that he brought. He took it like a champ. 

He deserved a kiss, didn't he? For everything that he's done for you, for all the trouble that he's gone through. You figured he deserved a reward.

Slowly, you brushed Sunghoon's bangs away from his face, exposing his forehead. His shiny eyes followed you as you readjusted your position so that you laid beside him.

"[Name]?" his voice was a small whisper. God, you just wanted to eat him up.

You hummed, as you leaned closer to him. Sunghoon watched with fluttering eyes and a beating heart. Your face was inching so close to his that he was sure that you could hear how hard his heart was beating. 

Was it just him, or was it getting hot in here?

Sunghoon's stomach did a flip at the way you gazed at him with lidded eyes, your beautiful lips parted. Oh, if the sky didn't part open and swallow him whole right now. You were so close, so close that he could feel your breath on his cheek.

If you didn't pull away now, Sunghoon thought that his fingers, which were now getting sticky with webs that came out when he couldn't control his nerves, would shoot actual webs.

"Sunghoon," you finally said, your hand coming up to gently guide his face, making him look straight at you. He faltered under your gaze. 

"Y-Yes?"

There, you did it again— that thing where you glanced down at his lips for a few moments, before flickering back up to his eyes with a slight, smug grin. You were driving him crazy.

"Can I kis—"

Knock knock!

"Mama! Papa!"

Both you and Sunghoon immediately pulled away from each other, sitting up. You rushed to your bedroom door, opening it to find a tearful Riki (with Bisco his stuffed dog) in hand. You were quick to scoop him up, though you noticed the awkward expression on Sunghoon's face.

"What?"

How could you act like nothing happened?

"I-I—" Sunghoon stammered, his face bright red and his hair disheveled. He couldn't hide his disappointment now that you weren't close to him anymore.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Calm down, you dork."

With that, you left the room to go comfort your son, leaving Sunghoon alone, his mind fried and his cheeks pink.

Except, you came back within a few moments, this time without Riki.

With one hand, you grabbed Sunghoon's shoulder. With the other, you took his face, taking the poor man by surprise. Gently, you pressed your lips onto the corner of his lips, placing down a soft, chaste kiss.

It was a short, innocent kiss, one that barely lasted a second.

But Sunghoon froze, his mind filled with nothing but you, you, you.

"Happy now?" you rasped against the shell of his ear before pulling away. You chuckled at the way Sunghoon watched you with eyes as big as saucers, his entire face and neck now red, so warm that you could feel it radiating off of him.

That was scary about you, how you could read him so easily. You had him in the palms of your hands, ready to eat him up and play with him like he was putty.

You got up to leave, but when you got to the doorway, you stopped. You turned over your shoulder, a sly grin spread across your face.

"By the way, Sunghoon," you purred. "You should probably come quick. Riki just had a nightmare. Think he needs both mama and papa."

Shit, you were going to kill him.

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now.

Why did Sunghoon agree to this?!

A few days ago, DK told Sunghoon about an absolutely appalling opportunity: a Spider-Man meet-and-greet.

Sunghoon didn't know what sick person had this idea, but he reluctantly agreed.

And that's how he found himself on a Saturday afternoon sitting at a Spider-Man fan convention. He could be at home, spending time with you and Riki, but no, he's here taking pictures with little kids. 

A few kids already spilt their juice and slushies on him. Mothers shoved their babies in his face, while squealing middle schoolers took the most indiscreet pictures of him. It was hot, and Sunghoon was getting tired of putting on his customer-service voice.

Just as Sunghoon was about to sigh for the nth time that afternoon, he spotted two familiar faces in line.

Yours and Riki's.

You looked annoyed, maybe just as annoyed as Sunghoon was feeling, while Riki had the brightest smile on his face.

When he realized that you and Riki were in line to meet him, Sunghoon tried his best to speed through all the pleasantries and selfies.

And at last, you were up next.

"Hi, Spider-Man," you said quietly through gritted teeth. It was obvious that you were only here because of Riki.

"Hi, ma'am," Sunghoon said as curtly as possible.

Your face scrunched, unable to hide your disdain for Sunghoon as Spider-Man. 

"Uh, this is Riki, my son," you said, carefully handing your son over to the hero. You sighed, reluctantly taking out your phone to snap a few pictures. "Riki really loves your work."

"Smile for the picture, Riki!" you said, and that's the only time that you've smiled in the past ten minutes.

And then, the worst words tumbled out of Riki's mouth.

"Papa!"

Um.

What?

Sunghoon should have known. Last time, when he was carrying you and Riki through the sky, Riki recognized him as "Hoo" almost immediately.

And now, it seemed like Riki could still recognize him, this time as papa.

Sunghoon tensed up, and he froze up even more when Riki began to snuggle up against his blue and red - clad chest, giggling, "Papa!"

You looked horrified, your mouth agape and your brows knitted together.

"I-I'm so sorry, Spider-Man," you stammered, taking Riki back into your arms. "I don't know what's gotten into him."

"It's— ahem— fine," Sunghoon quipped. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

Sunghoon found himself frowning the entire time, until he checked his phone.

[name]: spiderman wants to be you so bad 

[name]: riki called him papa

[name]: sorry but youre the only papa i know

He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Sunghoon has been acting strange.

You knew it better than anyone else. 

It all started after another city-wide crisis. Giganto, the mad supervillain that Spider-Man's been fighting with for months, spread some contaminant in the water supply. This could have been avoided if Spider-Man just left the city, but alas, a few people had to be hospitalized. After that, the city's crime rate ran up the walls.

It wasn't difficult to notice it, the way Sunghoon's face scrunched up like he was deep in thought more often than not, the way he was quick to object you going out to the convenience store after dark, the way that he disappeared for a few hours at a time, suspiciously aligning with news reports, and most noticeably, the way that Sunghoon winced every time that you named Spider-Man.

You weren't stupid. In fact, you couldn't tell if you could just read Sunghoon well, or if he was just horrible at hiding how he felt.

As of now, you had a few suspicions, but all of them centered around one thing: Sunghoon had some affiliation with Spider-Man. He had to have, it was the only thing that made sense.

"I really don't think you should, [Name]," Sunghoon reasoned with you one night, his hands buried in his hair. 

"Why not?" Tonight, you wanted to test the waters even more. Sunghoon seemed to get antsy whenever you went out at night alone. "I'm just going to get groceries. We ran out of eggs."

You had your back turned to him as you jammed your feet into your shoes, but you listened closely to the worry in his voice.

"I-I can go get it tomorrow morning," he stumbled over his words. 

"What difference does that make?" you pressed. "Eggs that I buy at night are the same as eggs that you buy in the morning."

You reached for the door. "I'll be back in 20, promise."

You didn't know what switch flipped, but it seemed like as the door hinges turned, Sunghoon reached for your hand so fast that you didn't even see him moving. Has he always been that fast?

His grip was firm.

"I'll go with you," Sunghoon said solemnly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Suit yourself."

That was your tactic, pushing Sunghoon's limit until he had no choice but to take action. 

He was iffy about you going out at night, so you made sure to do it more often. Each time, he insisted that he went with you. It was funny, because he'd follow you like a guard dog, so willing to fight anyone that even so much as looked in your direction.

"Relax, it's just some kid."

"He looked at you funny."

"He looks like he's nine years old. He is not an assailant."

"But he can be."

You didn’t mind that Sunghoon wanted to go with you. It gave you an excuse to hold his hand, and snuggle up against his side in the cold hair. Sometimes, he’d give you his jacket, and you got to be engulfed in his scent. As long as you got to spend time with him, you figured that you didn't mind.

It was now that you realized just how strong Sunghoon was. He carried bags of groceries like it was nothing, and when you and him kicked pebbles along the sidewalk, he kicked his pebble with such minimal effort, yet it still somehow flung across the street at lightning speed.

But along with sticking with you at night, he texted you a lot more during the day, asking if you were okay. Did he think that you wouldn't notice?

What threw you off even more was when he randomly caught a fly with his bare hands, crushing the poor thing right between his fingertips like it was nothing. Since when did he have such precision?

Sunghoon has been acting strange, and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at his phone screen for what felt like the millionth time this week. 

It was noon now, Riki was at daycare and you were at work. 

It was no secret that the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. Sunghoon found himself fighting crime after crime, nearly blowing his cover multiple times.

As Sunghoon swung from building to building, he gazed down at the cityscape. It was still early in the day. He could see school children playing ball, laughing as if there wasn't a robbery just down the street. Businessmen in crisp suits pranced around the sidewalks like they owned the place, while public transitters waited around for the bus.

It was still crazy to him, how any one of these people could be the next person that he had to fatefully stop from committing a crime. 

The only good things about being Spider-Man, at this rate, was that he could easily watch over you throughout the day and that he could help people. If he got another microphone shoved in his face, Sunghoon might become the criminal.

"Are you serious?!" Sunghoon couldn't help but exclaim as he peered over the ledge. 

He was on his daily patrol, checking alleyways and stopping muggers, when he spotted a child, no older than ten, getting robbed. 

Seriously? A child?

Sunghoon sighed.

"Oi!" Sunghoon shouted as he swung down, extending his leg so that he could land an easy kick on the assailant's cheek. Maybe Sunghoon put a little too much force, because he swore he heard a cracking noise. As he landed, he made sure to stand in front of the child, shielding him from the assailant.

"Hey man," Sunghoon said smoothly, yet even through his masked face his contempt was apparent. "You realize this kid is like seven, right? Stop trying to rob children."

The assailant groaned in pain, still keeled over on the ground, so Sunghoon took that moment to usher the child away, leaving the two in the alleyway. 

The assailant was holding his nose, and that was when Sunghoon realized that he was bleeding.

He looked up at Sunghoon angrily, stumbling to his feet. "You broke my nose!"

Sunghoon shrugged. "You attack children. What about it?"

The assailant growled angrily, fumbling with the knife in his pocket as he charged toward Sunghoon.

Sunghoon sighed, rolling his eyes.

With the amount of media coverage Spider-Man got, he would expect people to understand by now that attacking him head-on was just impossible. Every single headline boasted about Spider-Man's super-human abilities, yet here people were, acting dumb as fuck.

Almost like Sunghoon could see movement in slow-motion, mere milliseconds before his assailant collided with him, he shot a web at the wall, flinging himself up to the wall. 

"C'mon man," Sunghoon taunted. "You're faster than that."

Before the man could respond, Sunghoon swung down and kicked him in the abdomen. He tried to get back up and land a stab at Sunghoon, but alas, he was too slow.

"I'm serious," Sunghoon chuckled, but behind his mask he was completely blank-faced, nearly bored. "You need to be a little faster if you wanna catch up to me."

With one more kick to the stomach, the man was down for good. Sunghoon dialed the police, and with that, he left.

Because he had witnessed a child get mugged earlier, Sunghoon's first instinct was to check up on Riki's daycare.

Sure, Riki was basically a baby, but the thought of a child being attacked made Sunghoon a little worried for him.

In fact, the thought of Riki being in danger made Sunghoon worried about you. Should he go check up on your office too?

Sunghoon's sure that you've noticed by now, how increasingly nervous he got about your safety. At first, he tried to conceal it better, but it got harder as crime increased.

If Sunghoon had superhuman levels of hearing, his ability to identify your voice from miles away must have been god tier.

Sunghoon clung to the walls of your office building, pressing his chest against the hard brick in order to not be as obvious. Stealthily crawling against the wall, Sunghoon finally found the window right where your office was.

Peering inside, Sunghoon could see that you were talking with one of your colleagues. You were smiling, laughing from time to time. It must have been a friendly conversation.

Sunghoon pressed his ear against the wall, letting his enhanced hearing do the work for him.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?" your colleague asked, leaning on your desk.

You hummed, typing away and half-listening. "I'm spending time with my family."

Your colleague smiled. "You and Riki?"

You shook your head absent-mindedly. "Me, Riki, and Hoon."

Sunghoon cracked a grin.

"Oh? Who's Hoon?"

Your eyes flickered away from your computer screen. "Sunghoon? He's my...." you trailed off. What was Sunghoon to you?

"Your?" Your colleague looked at you expectantly, but when you bashfully smiled, she gasped. "Don’t tell me…”

"W-Well, I mean— He's a good friend—"

"Tsk, tsk, if he really was a good friend you wouldn't struggle so much to say that." Your colleague sat down. "Do you like him or something?"

"Of course I do. He's a good friend—"

"That's not what I meant."

You huffed. 

Sunghoon held his breath

"I think I... love him?" you said it like a question, but you didn't look uncertain. The rest of your conversation was pretty plain, just exchanging pleasantries and chuckles about family life.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was completely zoned out. A gunshot could fire right beside him and even then he wouldn't be fully conscious and in his body.

You? 

Loved him?

Ohmygodyousaidthatyoulovedhim.

It was getting bad, how much those words affected him. Each time Sunghoon forced himself to recover mentally, your words would replay again in his head, making him squeeze his eyes shut and feel the heat rush back to his face. Sunghoon felt light-headed. If it weren't for the stickiness of his spiderwebs, Sunghoon would have fallen off the building by now.

Was he dreaming?

Sunghoon bit down on his lip to stop the dumb, dopey grin threatening to spill across his face, but alas, a simple glance at you through the window again had his heart jumping.

He felt like a high schooler, getting all giddy again as if no one has ever loved him before.

Well, it was true though. No one has ever loved him before, not in the way that you've loved him.

Maybe Sunghoon was right for being so protective of you over the past few weeks.

You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at this point, rather just amazed beyond words at the goddamn audacity of these people.

"I don't have money," you said simply, rolling your eyes.

"Are you sure about that, lady?"

You huffed. "Yes, I'm a single mother. You think I'm rich?— Ow, okay sorry."

You were just minding your own business, walking to the subway and thinking about how much you hated your boss, when you were pulled into an alleyway. You were lucky (if this could be considered lucky at all) that you were just getting mugged, who knows what else could have happened?

It was a group of three men, two holding you back and the other trying to extort you of your money. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have any cash on you.

The cold brick wall pressed harshly into your back, hard enough that you nearly winced in pain, but you made sure to show no signs of discomfort or struggle. That would make you seem weak, and if you wanted any chance of getting out unscathed, you should probably avoid showing any vulnerability.

"I can PayPal you," you said simply, your gaze bored.

"We want cash, lady."

You huffed. "I already said, I don't have cash on me. Do you have ApplePay?"

The men groaned.

You had a simple plan: continue to play dumb and keep suggesting alternative payment options to distract them, and when the time came, you'd land a kick to the crotch and make a run for it. A lot of people liked to pool at the convenience stores and bakeries nearby, so it shouldn't be difficult to catch their attention.

"What about Venmo?" you asked, your tone purposefully squeaky and annoying. "Or Zelle? I have a lot of money on Zelle."

You blinked at them, feigning some semblance of naivety, watching in near-satisfaction at the way their faces distorted incredulously.

And just as the three men shot each other looks, trying to reconvene, you realized that maybe your bit off more than you could chew. 

Maybe acting stupid wasn't the best idea, especially in the face of three people filled with the intent to rob you.

Slap!

Because the next thing you knew, your cheek was hot and prickling with pain, your eyes burning with tears from the sheer impact of that palm against your face.

Your jaw went slack in pure shock. Did they just—

Slap!

"Shut up, you bitch!"

Woah.

You opened your mouth to let out another witty response (which was probably already a bad idea to start with), but you're cut off when you're suddenly pushed all the way up against the hard brick wall. Your cheek was pressed against it; it was rough and cold.

Grubby hands patted you down, searching for any spare cash left in your pockets. You cringed as they searched through your long-discarded purse for the third time, only to find chapstick, lip gloss, and a bunch of cards. 

"Come on, woman, you need to have some money on you!" you heard one of them mutter, the rancid smell of cigarettes filling your nose. 

"I already said," you huffed, letting out a small yelp of pain as they shoved you against the wall again, your lip scraping against the rough brick. You tasted blood. "I don't have cash on me—"

They shoved you even harder this time, holding you by your head. Your entire cheek was pressed up against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as pain shot through your head. Maybe you shouldn't have talked so much smack, because now you were feeling light-headed from the sheer impact.

You couldn't see what happened in the next few moments, but you were suddenly lifted in the air by strong arms, strong arms that almost felt familiar. You heard some yelling and shouting, and a few more sudden groans of pain. 

It took you a few moments to realize that it was a certain blue and red superhero scooping you up, and it took you even longer to realize that it was this same hero that had gently placed you up on the ledge, before going back down to the alley to wreak havoc on those men.

It was horrific, the way that Spider-Man raised his fists, crashing them down on these men so hard that you could see the dark red blood stains seeping onto his spandex costume. The painful cries, the sound of Spider-Man's fists making contact with their bodies, it was all a terrible sound.

You watched silently, slack-jawed.

Spider-Man always had a more action-packed fighting style, utilizing his webs and arsenal of abilities and gadgets to make a spectacle of his fights (whether intentional or not). 

Yet, here he was, using nothing but his bare hands to beat these men to a pulp.

It made your head hurt, everything. Even from the ledge high up, you could smell the must, blood, and sweat. It made you feel sick.

You could feel yourself lose all energy, deflating. You just wanted to go home, and feel your son and Sunghoon's warmth.

Riki, you thought as you watched in horror.

"Hoon," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself to the point that you didn't even realize that you said it.

Then, everything stopped, and suddenly you were up in the air again.

You mustered all the strength you had left in yourself to become aware of your surroundings. "Spider—"

"Don't talk."

So you didn't.

As you felt your mind cloud up, you could only think of a few things.

First, that your entire body had a subtle ache.

And second, that Spider-Man's voice sounded really familiar.

“Where were you? Why do you have a cut on your lip? Why were you out so late?” were the first words spilling out of Sunghoon’s mouth the moment you appeared in the doorway. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why would you stay out when it’s dark—?”

You appreciated the concern, but you simply did not have it in you talk to him. You were exhausted, and even more mentally drained. You walk past him, ignoring Sunghoon's bombarding questions, completely oblivious to the way he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, rubbing his bruised knuckles as his brows crashed together.

"Why aren't you answering me?" Sunghoon clutched your shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. You missed the ring of red around his eyes, too focused on your own bloody lips to see the even larger gash slowly healing on Sunghoon's cheek. His breath was heavy, almost like he'd been running around like crazy.

You let out an exasperated sigh, your tired eyes fluttering over to him. The events that transpired earlier were not a big deal to you, but it sure did suck the energy out of you.

Sunghoon cupped your cheek, taking your face into his hands. He studied your expression, brushing his finger against your cut lip. When you hissed at the sensation, Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath, before his face pinched.

"This is why I told you not go out after dark—"

"Not right now, Sunghoon," you grumbled, pulling away from him. You let out another sigh. "I don't feel like having this conversation right now."

He reached out for you, but you turned on your heel, heading towards Riki's room.

"How's Riki?"

Sunghoon stared at you, before swiping his tongue over his lips. "I-I'm serious, [Name]. We can't keep having this conversation."

"Not right now," you repeated yourself, not even looking at him.

"No!" Sunghoon cried, his outburst making you stop and cock a brow at him. "We need this conversation now. Y-You— It's not safe anymore."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Just, don't go out anymore," he stumbled over his words, yet his face was solemn. "Please, just come home early. And if—And if you want to go out, I'll go with you."

Maybe it was because you were already having a bad day, or maybe you were just tired, but you felt anger begin to bubble inside of you.

These past few weeks, Sunghoon had been protective of you. It was endearing sometimes, but now it was getting ridiculous. You were capable of handling yourself, and if you weren't, that was your own responsibility to take care of, not his. You appreciated the concern, but not his visceral disapproval of any time you even decided to step outside.

"Sunghoon," you said calmly, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "I'm a grown woman. I can go outside by myself."

"No," he shook his head vehemently, taking your hands into his. "You don't get it. You don't know what's out there. It's not safe for you."

You tried your best. You really tried your hardest to swallow all the hot anger threatening to tumble out of your lips. You dug your nails into your palms, taking slow breaths as Sunghoon gave you a lengthy lecture about why you weren't prepared for the 'outside world' anymore.

It was difficult. You couldn't be angry that he cared about you, that he was so worried for your wellbeing. But as more words about how you couldn't possibly handle yourself outside were bleeding into your ears like shrill pots and pans to the point that it was unbearable to listen to.

"Am I weak to you, Sunghoon?" you finally interrupted him amidst his tangent.

"What? No, I—"

"Then why do you keep acting like I am?" No, you shouldn't be raising your voice at him like this, not when all he was doing was showing you how much he cared about you. Each word was calm, but you felt the venom seeping in with each syllable. "I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of how you act like I'm incapable of defending myself."

"But—"

"I don't want to hear it anymore," you grumbled, rubbing your temples and turning your back to him. "Please. I just want quiet right now."

The two of you stood in silence like that for a few pulses, the air tense— the most tense that the two of you have ever been.

The silence was broken when Sunghoon took in a deep breath, cracking the front door open, before stepping outside and quietly shutting it.

The entire apartment was deathly silent. With what remaining energy you had left, you retired to your room. The moment your back hit the mattress, your heavy eyelids shut.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon took a stroll along the apartment complex. The cool air kissed his cheek, running through his hair.

Was he wrong for worrying about you so much?

Should he have approached things differently?

How was he going to resolve this now?

Maybe Taehyun was right, that he was trying so hard to be a Prince Charming of sorts– your knight in Shining Armor.

It was never Sunghoon's intention to make you feel weak. 

He was just scared. When he saw you in that alleyway, his blood ran cold, and all he could think about was protecting you.

The mere thought of you getting even more hurt than you already were frightened Sunghoon.

Sunghoon wasn't sure how long he spent outside, but it was long enough for his skin to feel cold to the touch.

After collecting himself, Sunghoon had a plan to resolve this bump along the road: he'd go inside, apologize, and explain himself clearly. Anxiety gnawed at him from the inside out, but he knew he had to make things right.

But as Sunghoon made his way back to your apartment door, taking in a deep breath before he reached for the door handle and rehearsing what he wanted to tell you in his head, something interrupted his thoughts.

First, it was the sound of glass breaking.

Then, the sound of Riki crying, and at last, your screaming.

And when Sunghoon busted down the front door, he found the entire house empty, save for the shattered glass window of your bedroom.

"Shhh, Baby don't cry," you shakily breathed, holding Riki close to your chest. "It's okay, it's okay— Shhh."

The last thing you expected was to be kidnapped by Spider-Man's number one opponent, the supervillain Giganto.

But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.

But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.

It all happened so quickly that you could barely remember how you got here. The hair on your hands was standing up, a chill running down your spine. The entire facility felt empty, only the sound of your breathing and Riki's crying reverberating off the walls, but you knew better. Giganto took you here, so he must be nearby. You didn't even know why he wanted you to begin with, but now you had to deal with the reality of it.

You thought back to Sunghoon.

Wasn't this what he was warning you about? Why did you have to be influenced by your feelings like that? If you just listened to him and acted maturely, this could have been avoided... right?

You couldn't imagine how he felt now. He was just trying to protect you, and you just threw it back into his face. This was the second time that you were shitty to Sunghoon; how could you say that you loved him when all you did was be an asshole to him?

You would wallow in self-pity, but you had Riki to protect now.

Your eyes flickered around the dark and empty facility. Any moment now, Giganto could appear and kill you, or something.

You didn't know much about Giganto, other than that he had the ability to change sizes. That is, he could become very large or very small in an instant.

"Riki, breathe baby," you huffed, hoping that the fast beating of your heart would slow down soon enough for you to think straight. You swallowed the lump in your throat. For the first time ever, you wished that Spider-Man would come and save you from this maniac.

"Well, hello there."

Speak of the devil.

From the shadows emerged a man. He was in a skin-tight suit, with a mask hiding everything but his eyes and mouth, similar to Spider-Man. What made him stand out was the gadget in his hand. It was a gun-like gadget of some sort, glowing bright green.

You narrowed your eyes at him as goosebumps rose on your arms.

"Giganto," you questioned, your voice hoarse from screaming earlier, "Why did you take me here?"

The supervillain grinned, taking his time as he promenaded around the rink. Was he wearing ice-skates? How pompous.

"Is it that hard to figure out?" Giganto mused, his fingers running along the edge of his gadget. "Why don't you take a guess?"

You had no answer. The only thing that made sense was that you were a civilian and a resident of this city. What other connection to Giganto did you have other than that?

You stayed silent, holding Riki even closer to your chest as you realized that Giganto was walking— err, skating?— towards you. Your shoulders tensed, trying to pull your curled up legs to your chest.

"Relax, woman," the villain huffed. That's when you realized that he wasn't just holding that gadget, but various other... cones? They looked like those tiny plastic traffic cones at Riki's daycare. Giganto began to place them adjacent to you. "I'm just setting up for a game."

A game?

Just when you thought that Giganto probably forgot about your earlier question, he skated back to where he was previously.

"So, you have a guess yet?"

You would have said something witty, but you remembered what happened last time you tried to use your words to get out of something.

It was distracting you, the way that Giganto was paying extra attention to the gadget in his hands, brandishing it and shining the thing like it was a jewel.

And it seemed that he noticed this too.

“Oh this?” the villain threw his head back, letting out a laugh, a laugh that you knew too well to be fake because hey, working in an office with shitty coworkers and an even shittier boss made you receptive to it. “It’s just what I call a Size-inator!”

He let out another string of cartoonishly villainous laugh, nearly comical how enunciated it was. It was so ridiculous that Riki stopped crying, sending you a confused look. And when all you did was stare at him like he was a maniac, Giganto stopped laughing.

“Isn’t this impressive?” Giganto threw his hands up in the air. “Gee, you people are never satisfied.”

You nodded slowly. He looked so excited about this Size-inator, almost like he was just waiting for you to ask about it. You wouldn’t mind doing some talking. After all, it could buy you time and information.

“Right…” you nodded slowly. “So this Size-ometer-"

“Size-inator,” he corrected you.

“Yeah, yeah, this Size-er,” you waved him off, “What does it do?”

"Thought you'd never ask!" Giganto threw his hands up into the air theatrically. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, all the lights turned off in the ice rink, only a spotlight shining over the villain. "The Size-inator is a device designed by moi. I can shoot whatever I want— he pointed the gadget to one of the cones he placed down, pulling the trigger. In an instant, the cone shrunk— "And it will change in size!"

"Pretty neat, isn't it?" he looked at you slyly.

You nodded slowly. "So it's a shrink ray, basically."

"Nuh-uh!" Giganto's outburst made you cock a brow at him. "It's a Size-inator!"

"Right."

.

.

.

"So... Where's Spider-Man?" Giganto asked, teetering on his ice-skates like a teenage girl waiting on her crush.

Your face scrunched.

Um.

How were you supposed to know?

"Uh, I don't know?" you said, your tone questioning your own certainty.

Giganto's face morphed into an incredulous one. He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Don't lie to me, woman!"

You shook your head, shrugging vehemently. "I really don't!"

Giganto skated up to you, his ice-skates scraping up against the ice to make a shrill sound. He peered down at you, his eyes suspicious even through the mask.

"So you mean to tell me that you've coming home to the same apartment as Sungjoon Park everyday and you didn't know that he's Spider-Man?" the villain eyed you suspiciously.

Sungjoon Park?

"What are you talking about? I only know a Sunghoon Park—"

At the sound of Sunghoon's name, Riki stirred. 

"Papa!" he exclaimed, wriggling in your hold.

"Yeah, yeah, Sunghoon Park, or whatever," Giganto waved off. "You didn't know that he's Spider-Man this entire time?—" he pointed at Riki— "You have a child with him!"

Crash!

Before you could even process things, a massive crash rang throughout the entire facility, followed by the sound of car sirens going off and glass breaking.

"Oh! Gotta goooo!" Giganto sped away, summoning his other little gadgets, presumably to go check up on the commotion outside. "Don't you dare try to escape, woman! I'm always watching!"

And then you were left alone again, in the middle of a cold ice rink.

Tap, tap.

Sunghoon? 

Spider-Man?

Tap, tap.

You knew that Giganto was a maniac, but you didn't know that he was that insane.

Tap, tap.

That wouldn't make any sense.

Sunghoon might be associated with him somehow, but your own best friend as the Spider-Man?

No way.

Tap, tap.

And now that Giganto was gone—

Tap, tap.

That tapping sound was going to drive you crazy—!

"Pssst!"

You shot your head around. No one was there.

You looked in the other direction, then all around you. No one was there either.

"Look up here!"

You whipped your head up to the ceiling, where a massive opening had been created from the rubble. And lo and behold, there hung the one and only friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

"C'mon, [Name]," he said, reaching out a hand to you, "Take my hand and we'll escape."

Your eyes widened into saucers, bulging out of your head. You swore that you've heard that voice before, and as you flashed through all of your memories, you could never recall an instance where Spider-Man's voice matched with that of Spider-Man. Instead, all the memories lined up with Sungh—

"Papa!" Riki cried.

That's something that you could never wrap your head around. Riki seemed to call only Sunghoon papa. Yet, he's been calling Spider-Man papa, too.

You kept your eyes trained on the hero's wide, white eyes, your mind running on its own while your mouth moved. 

"I-I'm tied up, Spider-Man," you stammered. 

A familiar voice, papa, a weird obsession with crime and safety, it all didn't make sense.

Spider-Man dropped down from the ceiling, carefully untying the ropes wrapped around your hands and feet.

"Are you okay?" the hero asked, helping you stand up with wobbly feet. To your surprise, Spider-Man clutched your chin, forcing you to look at him. In his other hand, he held Riki, to which Riki began snuggling up against his chest. And then, worried words streamed from his lips, in a tone that you knew all too well. "Did he do anything to you? Are you hurt? Can you stand?—"

For a split second, you thought you were going crazy. 

For a split second, his voice sounded exactly like Sunghoon's: with the same breathiness, the same cadence, and of course, the same exact concern that made your heart melt.

For a split second, you could almost see Sunghoon's thick eyebrows furrowing behind the mask, worry strewn all across his expression.

"Sunghoon?"

Spider-Man froze, going frigid all the while Riki continued to nuzzle his face in his strong chest.

Behind the mask, you could see almost exactly how Sunghoon would bite down on his tongue, his lips parting while his eyes flashed around the room; his nervous tick.

"Sunghoon," you whispered again, this time with a type of desperation that you never knew you had. You could feel your chest pounding, the sound of your heart thrumming against your ribcage filling your ears. "Sunghoon, please."

Please tell me it's you.

Slowly, you reached up to cup Spider-Man's face, and to your surprise, the hero leaned into your touch.

"[Name]," Spider-Man whispered shakily, so low that you could barely hear it.

Hearing it roll off his tongue, that confirmed everything that you needed to know.

Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility. 

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility. 

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

Sunghoon shot a web back up at the ceiling where the opening was. 

Giganto loaded his shrink ray, and in that moment, you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Yet, instead of feeling yourself shrink into oblivion, you felt your entire body lift up into the air, before being hoisted back to your feet.

"You don't trust me?" Sunghoon grinned into your ear, his hands still wrapped tightly around you.

You opened your eyes slowly. You were on a rooftop.

"Woah..."

With Riki back in your arms, you looked down to see the vast cityscape below your feet. The dark blue night sky was peppered with white splotches of stars and satellites. The lights were beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.

The feeling of Sunghoon's warmth behind you, as well as Riki's little giggles, made you melt.

"W-Where are we?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the view.

"Far," Sunghoon breathed against your ear. Then, he pulled away from you, gently guiding you to a ledge in the inner perimeter of the rooftop. "Far from Giganto."

And as he began to slink away, your eyes widened, reaching out to him instinctively. "Where are you going?"

Sunghoon turned around. He ruffled Riki's hair, then brushed his gloved finger against your cheek. 

"I need to go fight Giganto," he said simply.

Before you could protest, Sunghoon clutched your chin, making you look at him.

"Well, you said that Spider-Man was useless," you could hear him grin behind the mask. "This is my one time to impress you. I'll beat him up really good, I promise."

His tone was light-hearted, trying to make you smile, yet you only chewed on your lip, looking on hesitantly. 

"I'll be safe," Sunghoon reassured you, leaning in closer to you. 

You looked at him with clouded eyes. "Are you sure? What if you get hurt?"

It was funny, how the roles were now reversed: now, it was you worrying about his safety.

"I'm strong," Sunghoon chuckled, flexing his bicep. "The strongest."

You still looked apprehensive, so Sunghoon leaned in even closer, cupping your cheek.

"Don't worry about me," he said lowly, his hands holding you like you were a delicate piece of glass. 

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath. You nodded your head, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself, before meeting his eyes.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes like that for a few pulses, getting lost in the comfort of each other, a momentary escape from reality.

And then, letting all of your inhibitions run free, you grabbed Sunghoon's masked face, and pressed a right where his lips were. You pulled away quickly, but this time, you had a determined look on your face.

Sunghoon stood there frozen, suddenly dazed as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, flustered.

"Well?" you grumbled, averting your gaze. "What are you waiting for? Go impress me, Spider-Man."

Sunghoon never turned on his heel and began swinging away any faster.

Sunghoon flushed as he heard you giggling from the other room.

He hated the media, he hated it so much.

But, he had to admit, he was grateful for all the news outlets this one time.

Because truth be told, they caught some pretty badass shots of him kicking Giganto's ass.

Not because Sunghoon personally wanted cool pictures of himself, but because now you and Riki were rewatching clips of the fight in the other room. Riki giggled, exclaiming every other second and clapping his hands cutely, while you cooed not just at his cuteness, but at the way Sunghoon's muscles flexed in each shot.

He had to admit, the camerawork made the fight look a lot more intense than it actually was.

What actually went down was pretty simple.

Giganto made Sunghoon play a game of some sorts, some supervillain version of laser-tag. Sunghoon was going to be in ice-skates, and he was going to have to evade Giganto's Size-inator. The villain chose ice-skating because apparently it was way harder to move around in ice-skates than not. However, he completely forgot two very important facts.

The first one was that Spider-Man was... Well, Spider-Man. Sunghoon's abilities were heightened to the max, so his reflexes and physical capabilities transcended whatever man-made gadget Giganto had.

The second one was that Sunghoon was kickass at ice-skating, all thanks to the many times that he'd gone with you and Riki. There was something about showing off how good he was in front of you, the literal love of his life, that shaped Sunghoon into the absolute pro at ice-skating that he was now.

It's safe to say, Giganto's defeat was pathetic. He was arrested, and his identity was revealed to be some corporate slave trying to reach stardom through criminal activities.

Sunghoon had to force himself to take deep breaths, stifling the stupid grin threatening to spread on his face as he heard you and Riki's giggles.

"Are you guys ready to go?" he poked his head in through the doorway. "Oh wow."

There you were, wearing a pretty dress that hugged your body a little too well. Sunghoon's jaw went slack as his eyes glazed over your figure, gulping audibly as you made your way over to him.

"Hey there, Handsome," you purred, sliding your hands up his chest.

"Hi." No matter how long he's known you, how many times he's seen you in a figure-hugging dress, how many times you've kissed him until he saw stars, Sunghoon felt like putty in your presence.

"I love you in this color," you mused. You were definitely doing it on purpose, running your nails against his arm and getting all touchy.

Sunghoon's mouth felt dry. Was it getting hot it here, or was it just him? "Th-Thank you."

Linking fingers with Sunghoon, you pushed your chest forward and up against his chest.

"You know," you breathed against his neck. You smelled so good, your scent filled Sunghoon's head deliciously. "I've been waiting for tonight all week."

Sunghoon's palms were getting sweaty, goosebumps rising on his skin and the hairs on his neck standing up. "R-Really?"

"Of course," you cooed, before pulling away. You did a little twirl for him, showing off your dress.

"I'm ready," you smiled, your glossy lips moving in a way that made Sunghoon feel light-headed. You looked delicately over your shoulder, bursting out laughing. When Sunghoon peered over your shoulder, he also couldn't help but let chuckles fall from his lips.

"Riki, baby, what are you doing?!"

Riki was dressed up, but poor baby must have been tired, as he was all curled up against the floor, dozing off like nothing else mattered.

Tonight was a family night.

The plan was to go out for dinner as a family, and after, go home and watch a movie. It was a simple plan, but a plan that made Sunghoon all giddy with excitement. Riki wailed a little bit when you two woke him up, but just seeing you and Sunghoon's face made him peaceful in an instant.

Hand-in-hand, you, Sunghoon, and Riki walked off into the night.

And Sunghoon thought, there isn't anything else in the world that he could ask for.

Not when he was able to spend the rest of his life with his little family.

Not when he was head over heels in love with you.

[jellyfishrnice]

Yandere! Rich suitor idea

Hear me out-

The rich suitor that your parents have in mind for you to marry once you turn 30, the guy who's parents your parents are best friends and how they've been imagining their offspring getting married for decades! And how you absolutely can't stand your unofficial fiance!

Of course, he couldn't stand you either. All your lives grown up together with both your parents insinuating that you two will carry on their names. Each year you two would be sent off to some exotic vacation (your parents loosely supervising) and each year you both failed to hold a conversation without fighting. The pressure was always too much for you, you hated the idea of being tied down to some guy only your parents liked. And no matter how beautiful the boy was, he simply wasn't your type. He was too pretty, too spoiled, too prissy with his blonde hair tied in a ponytail and his stupid eyebrow piercing that made no sense considering his personality.

The guy you were supposed to marry felt the same, he couldn't understand what his parents saw in you. You were too wild, he couldn't imagine trying to carry on a family with how you barely even wanted to do school work. He didn't even consider ugly just so... Weird! With your weird, odd sense of fashion and refusal to think about your future , you were definitely not his type. You two hated each other.

Until the summer you two turned 21. The yearly vacation y'all took started off like any other. With both you dreading the sight of each other. But that changed very quickly once he saw you. This was the first year you two were alone, and maybe it was the fresh alcohol in your systems or the soft lights in whatever high class restaurant you were in, something clicked in your suitor's brain.

Turns out a year (or a couple) can really change the way you see someone. Whether he knew or not he started to admire the way you refused to comply with the strict set of rules set by the high class society you two lived in, and how you didn't care what anyone else thought of your peculiar way of self expression. It was admirable he had to admit.

And the night you two shared an accidental drunken kiss, it made the hair on his arms stand up, it made his face flush red(which he blamed on the liquor), and it made his heart pound in a way he never thought possible.

Every bone chilling reaction was forced out of him and it made his skin light on fire. After that night, he only wanted more to come out of your relationship.

But, the attraction was simply one sided.

You still only saw the same prissy boy. He still refused to look at things from more than one perspective, he still poked fun at your style of clothes, he still refused to say thank you to whatever person who was serving him!

He was everything you hated all wrapped up in one ball of a man.

And when he dropped the idea of getting married the next morning while you were still recovering from your hangover, you almost vomited.

-

"Ew! What the fuck are you talking about?!" You yelled while almost dropping the mug you had in your hand. The guy was just insulting you yesterday like he always does and now he's talking about marriage?

"You act as though marrying me is the worst thing possible." Andrew sighed while sipping on a glass of orange juice. He looked out the nearby window onto the private beach of the resort while leaning on the nearby wall. It didn't show but your response clearly hurt him just a bit.

"'Cuz it is." You groaned in frustration while sitting down on the living room couch. The guy you hate proposing is definitely not helping with your pounding headache.

You took a sip out of the mug of coffee and tried to rub away the ache from your temples. Why now of all times to propose? You two had at least 5 more years of freedom before yours and his parents would put their foot down and set a date for you two to sign the wedding papers.

"I mean- why not now? Its be better sooner than later, it would be like ripping off a bandaid-"

"Hell no." You sighed and set down your mug on the coffee table next to you and dropped your head onto a pillow. How were you going to deal with this?

"Anyway," you paused trying to gather your words, "don't you hate me? Why would you want to tie the knot so soon? I mean, you're an attractive guy right? Why don't you try out other options before having to-"

"I don't want other options."

You lifted your head and stared at Andrew for a second. The pink dusting his fair cheeks and avoidance of eye contact was all you needed to know.

You looked away from his face and stared at the wall behind him. Your head hurts even more than when you had woken up.

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I said I'm leaving." You hauled yourself off the couch and into your room. You could hear Andrews faint footsteps and even more of his questions but ignored it. You packed your backpack, only the necessities and a small bag of seashells. You were getting on the next plane and heading back home. Or wherever you could land first.

You were not staying here. You refused to marry. Not yet at least.

But as you try and open the door to leave, a large hand slams it shut before you can completely open it.

"Andrew. What the hell are you doing."

"You are not leaving." Andrew says while placing his other hand against the door, caging you.

You never realized how muscular Andrew was before this moment.

"Yes, I am. Now let go of the door-"

"No." He says in a much firmer tone.

It dawns on you that you're on a private beach with no one to hear you yell for help. You see one of his hands leave the door and for a second you think he's come back to his senses and stopped whatever crazy shit he was thinking- but instead he snaked his hand around your waist and lays his forehead on your shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

-

HEHEHEHE JUST A THOUGHT THOOO

Not proof read forgive me 😔

[lifeonmarz-blog]

What I think of Lilith through the houses

Both polarities blended together, Enjoy!

Sb: pls take it with a grain of salt if it doesn’t apply let it fly.

1st: dogmatic views, do as I say not as I do, attracted to the bad boy/bad girl, relationships with promiscuous people, openly opinionated, body dysmorphia, magnetic aura, captivating presence, traditional views when it benefits them, competitive, strong work ethic, very attractive but it may be hard for them to see it, money is power and they know this, dark humor, gets people to open up easily, self imposed restrictions, victim mentality.

2nd: jealous co workers, insecure without money, focused on long term success, thinking outside the box, quirky, illusions around upbringing, favorite child, should embrace new perspectives //possibilities, attracted to the outcasted, can feel pressured to help others, victims of betrayal, takes shortcuts to get what they want, responsible with money, loves the idea of love but not the commitment, pressure to perform well.

3rd: secret teller, uses sex for power, uses communication for power, odd sex appeal, unique style, entrepreneurial mindset, self motivated, driven, spiritual blessings through others, easily adaptable, loved by women, team player, liar, familiar with the underworld from a young age, ambitious, fast thinker, prefers to be coupled up, questions others authenticity.

4th: self driven, “been there done that” vibe, quirky sense of humor, untrustworthy mother, misuse of sexual energy, confusion around self identity, jumping from relationship to relationship, doesn’t know when to let a relationship go, generous in relationships, charming with their words, idealistic about love, passionate, cold demeanor, manifest desires easily, persistent with what they want, right place right time, hard worker, likes/requires routine, attracts/likes conflict, dramatic relationships, impulsive, loves adventure, victim of betrayal, liar, self destructive, possessive, comes across as intimidating.

5th: charming, witty, self destructive, overly emotional, lashing out, makes friends with common interest easily, convincing, attracts money easily, make it and get it right back mentality, lacks patience, needs to do things in moderation, anxiety, worry, fear of the unknown, depression, needs to find peace within themselves, overly serious, scattered brain, life of the party, big personality, attracted to big personalities, lives outside the box, always standing out in the crowd.

6th: requires stability, shame around upbringing, lacks self esteem, thinks too much before acting, hasty careless movements, overworks the body, running from thoughts, overwhelms themselves, feels they have something to prove, intellectual, restricts sexual desire, attachments issues, addicted to ideas/belief systems, reliable, helpful, resourceful, natural leader, feels they have big burdens, should let go and be more carefree.

7th: feels misunderstood, values family dynamics, strength, disconnected from others, integrity questioned, do what they want not what their told, distorted view of family and relationships, strong intuition, divine feminine, nurturing spirit, frequent conflicts, lacking accountability, escaping justice, partners that bring out the worst, popularity, unique voice, charming, very opinionated, sexually explorative, calm before the storm.

8th: relationships that alter view on sex, emotionally manipulative, self critical, overworks themselves, always stressed about time, too much on their plate, overwhelm, self sufficient, luxury, abundance, doesn’t rely on others to make things happen, can see their plans through, should flow more with life, slow down and take your time, receives a lot of gifts, also gives a lot too, gift of gab, dark humor, sneaky vibe.

9th: comes off quiet but really a social butterfly, confident, independent, determined, chooses partners that talk disrespectful to them, lacks self discipline, easily unmotivated, changes paths often, loves podcast, sweet words, jack of all trades master at none, trust your intuition, many rebirths, it’s okay to be the student, don’t fear growth, insecure about how their perceived, feeling misvalued in relationships, hard time feeling ready enough”.

10th: home body but equally likes being outside, big family lots of kids, multiple baby daddy’s/baby mamas, impulsive decisions, gets a lot of attention from their outfits, defending your beliefs to the public, advocating social issues, underdog, very intelligent, people come to them for advice, secret relationships, weighs the risk vs reward, doesn’t value others opinions, brushes issues off, truth seeker/ truth teller, would rather work alone, loves love, attracts a lot of haters and secret fans, always partnered up or wants to be, gets lied to a lot, so much potential, generous, loves to be a provider, doing the same thing and expecting different results, strong emotional world.

11th: inflexible, likes to dominate others, would benefit from connecting to Mother Earth, jealousy, overwhelmed by responsibilities, loves to be in a relationship, creative, doesn’t invest time properly, wasteful with their energy, sharing wealth, attract fake friends, friends are very different from them, very confident demeanor, don’t get along with women, very convincing, two sides like a Gemini, a lot of love to give hopeful it’s not being misused.

12th: reserved, quite but a social butterfly, courageous, loves learning new things especially darker subjects, wants their voice heard on a public forum, should take time to be alone to hear your own voice and strength intuition, fear of change, escaping at the nick of time, learning to develop personal beliefs, people pleasing, strong will, persistent, misuse of power, direct, quiet power, reads the room.

[darksvster]

okay i was asked to post this on tumblr since i posted a mini essay about it on twitter so here it is, i added some more examples and elaborated on my points that i couldn't over twitter.

so, when i first watched episode 207 i thought it was weird how religious rhaenyra was, until ryan condal mentioned the cult imagery. now i think instead of the show making her paranoid and neurotic in the final arc, they're going to make her more of a cult leader figure.

i think rather than leaning into her paranoia and the idea of a "hysterical paranoid mother" after she loses her sons, they're going to have her drink her own kool-aid more and more. it's interesting that this is what emma and ryan discuss in this scene with the dragonseeds in the inside the episode.

i think it's interesting that instead of the show positioning her like "a leader amongst the smallfolk," this episode positions her in a darker light, like someone who is manipulating the people there for her own goals. and when vermithor turns on the bastards, she doesn't let them run, the guards keep them barricaded in.

she is literally enraptured by the fire in these scenes. now that she knows it's possible for others to claim the dragons, she has been vindicated and wants more. this is not a merciful queen who is reaching out a hand to the smallfolk, she's throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks. after all, these are just smallfolk. bastards with no honor. ryan literally describes the scene as a ritual sacrifice.

and who do you conduct sacrifice for? the gods. but in this case, the gods the seven or the old gods, they aren't even just dragons, but the fact that rhaenyra sees herself in the dragons. she says as much in the literal pilot of the episode when viserys asks her what she sees when she looks at the dragons. she understands the power they wield.

she knows that their power lies in the dragons. but she doesn't reflect viserys' belief that they are a power that man never shouldn't have trifled with. she leans into the chaos and fire and blood of the dragons, we see that in the sowing, clearly.

rhaenyra inherited the worst of both viserys and daemon and that will lead to her madness. she's got viserys' strong belief in prophecy (one now exacerbated by her desperation).

we see that faith in the prophecy falter but never truly fade. rhaenyra has always taken is seriously, to the point that everything she's done this season is in response to the prophecy. her pacifism isn't just due to avoiding bloodshed. she makes it clear to jace that before plunging the realm into war she had to know there was no other option because of the burden of the prophecy.

even though daemon has never believed in prophecy or superstition. she's also got daemon's desire and lust for power and strength (something she confessed wanting specifically because daemon is a man when she was speaking to mysaria).

it's a great deconstruction of the chosen one archetype to have her drink this koolaid and believe herself the chosen one only to have that belief corrupt her. emma d'arcy speaks on this in their interview with gq when discussing rhaenyra's growing fanaticism.

I think something that has been happening for Rhaenyra throughout the series is a growing religious fanaticism. After her father’s death, there is this desire to be connected to him in some way. And losing him happens at the same moment as having her throne usurped. And so that thing that would have been such a direct connection to him is also stolen. So in lieu of that, there’s that searching [through] the histories. I think imagining that at some point her name will feature next to her father’s is in some way comforting, and I find it very moving to see a person who in grief has committed themselves to the history books. As the series goes on, I think we see her more and more invested in her faith. She returns to the old gods. I think all of these actions are in search of her right; the thing that she thought she had received from her father, she is looking for evidence again and again. And part of it, I’m sure, is a choice. I think sometimes in times of loss, we can choose the anchors that we are going to cling to, and her faith becomes one. But I think there’s a narcissism in it. I think her connection with her religion is about wanting to reinforce a divine right. And I think, looking at [episode] seven when this miracle takes place, and this man claims Seasmoke, I think she feels that it’s a gift from the gods. I think it’s what allows her to ride roughshod over Jace’s very legitimate concerns about his own status. I think it’s what allows her to stage a massacre, essentially. She feels that she is riding on the wings of her faith. But her faith, and her belief that she is the ruler that is supposed to sit on that throne, are completely enmeshed.

They continue:

What is going through Rhaenyra’s mind as she watches the Targaryen bastards be devoured and torched alive? I think she feels like a god. I think she feels super proud. I mean, I think it’s uncomfortable. I think there’s something, actually, also that ties into the religiosity — even being back in proximity to dragons, to that fire, is to somehow be living her birthright. To be soaking up the divine, somehow. And do you think that she feels as though the decision to essentially stage a massacre, as you say, is vindicated when the two new bastard dragonriders are found? Totally. Without a shadow of a doubt. I mean, it’s horrendous, but I think she is now this sort of emboldened fanatic, [and] I think she’s experiencing events within a far bigger timeline. She’s imagining the history books. And you know, what’s happening right in front of her is awful. But in 300-400 years, what will be documented is possibly a very short war; a huge civil war that was averted, that this was the first ruling queen, that this ruling Targaryen queen expanded the Targaryen’s ability to have dragons within their armoury.

emma's read on this supports what we see on screen when it comes to rhaenyra's newly found zealousness. the religious aspect could lead her to do things that might have been seen as atrocities by her. it could lead to mysaria abandoning her, her riders turning on her, and we would see more of that targ madness.

gods are mentioned several times in 207. first by addam, who says that the gods are calling him to greater things. rhaenyra has never been the extremely religious sort but, in this scene, she looks like she's had a moment of clarity.

importantly, rhaenyra doesn't know who addam's father is, or hugh's or ulf's. this is simply the first time in history that a non-targaryen (at least in her eyes) has claimed dragons. it's something that she believed impossible. it can feel like destiny to the desperate and she's been extremely desperate after losing daemon, rhaenys, and continuous loss after loss with no hope of recourse.

mysaria says that rhaenyra is lucky addam chose to bend the knee to her rather than himself. and her reply is that it is ordained. this religious vocabulary being used is intentional!

her complaint against the lowborn is that there is an ancient fealty from highborn houses. she essentially implies that bastards do not have honor. mysaria corrects her by pointing out that her legitimate half-brothers aegon and aemond aren't exactly delights, but that doesn't make rhaenyra see the light. instead she recognizes that there's fealty to be had from lowborn people too. the order of things have changed, as mysaria says, so she realizes that she can lift up people who have been historically stepped on and give power to the powerless, calling them her army of bastards.

but when jace calls this out, predicting that someone (perhaps hugh?) could lay claim to her throne if she legitimizes these bastards if not by name then by offering them the power of gods. obviously, jace's concern is real, his entire legitimacy lies on both viserys' past support and also the fact that he has a dragon of his own. if any bastard can claim one, what does that make him? but rhaenyra's response isn't logical. she believes that the throne is part of her and her son's destiny. their right.

for years, on some level, rhaenyra has believed that even though people have insulted her sons, they are full-blooded targaryens. she says herself that if she was a man she could father a dozen bastards, and as heir, she gives birth to three without hesitation. these aren't strongs or velaryons to her, her sons are targaryens.

but even when jace essentially begs his mother not to give commoners dragons, bringing up her past sins and pointing out his own struggle knowing that he's harwin strong's son, her response is somewhat cold. she says now that the gods have laid this in front of her and she has no choice.

the dragonkeepers call what she's doing blasphemy and note that it isn't the gods who brought the dragonseeds to her, but she herself has done that.

Dragonkeeper Elder: This is an abomination. You sent an Andal before a dragon. The judgment was delivered. Now you would send more. Rhaenyra: Ser Steffon Darklyn was the blood of the dragon. Dragonkeeper Elder: It was a blasphemy. He was no dragonlord. Neither are these. Rhaenyra: And yet the gods have set them before us. Dragonkeeper Elder: You have set them before yourself! The dragons are sacred; they are the last magic of Old Valyria in this sad world. They are not pieces on a board for the games of men. Our order will take no part in this.

to the dragonkeepers, she's using these bastards and dragons like chess pieces in her war. but to rhaenyra, who has seen addam claim seasmoke, it seems like this is a divine right — a sign from the gods. and that's proven again when hugh claims vermithor.

addam claiming seasmoke changed everything for her. she talks about claiming a dragon as a transformation, and, in many ways, this claiming has transformed her as well. she tells the dragonseeds that their purpose now is the end the hardships of war.

she paints a lovely image promising them peace at the end, but it is a wholly false image. with vermithor and silverwing now in her arsenal, there will be more suffering, more bloodshed. there are no promises of peace now that the war has been given to the dragons, not until everyone is dead. and if that happens, well, the gods willed it, not her.

in this moment, when she says "may the gods bless you" i have to wonder, is she talking about the seven? or the valyrian gods? or the dragons? i don't think she's fully in deep, but i can see the set up for a much darker storyline for rhaenyra rather than the book plot. every time her beliefs are proven or something impossible happens, that could reinforce her zealousness.

i have always said that rhaenyra is a combination of viserys and daemon, and i think that still. i think that she has both of their madnesses within her. as she loses more, the only thing she'll have to hold onto is that prophecy and the divine right she believes in now.

even this scene from the finale promo has over-the-top messiah, chosen apostles, last supper vibes. her saying "i have entrusted you with a power only few have known" as if she wasn't desperate for them and had no say in who the dragons chose. i love it!

honestly i'm totally here for it, i think it's an exciting direction to take. i don't think rhaenyra was always like this, she might have had the proclivity for it growing up under viserys' wing, but it's the war that's pushed her to this point. desperate people will turn to things like faith in order to guide them when the real world disappoints. i think it's a far more nuanced look at a sort of "madness".

and i'm here for the conflict that will happen with daemon as a result. i think daemon will be in direct opposition to this. he's NOT the type to follow cult leaders. this will be their conflict on top of the existing power struggles. this, to me, is far more interesting of a struggle as opposed to nettles causing romantic tension. this show has a tendency to lean away from harmful stereotypes about women. pitting woman against woman is one of them, as is the hysterical woman.

daemon dying for her could be a form of devotion, or perhaps even a command from a delusional rhaenyra who believes he will survive it. daemon could end up drinking the kool-aid too after the devastations of the war or simply realize that this is the last thing he can offer to someone who is too far gone to be saved.

THIS IS THE FIRE I WANT FOR RHAENYRA. this is the mad queen setup that we could have had! targ exceptionalism and completely going off the deep end as a way of coping with an unwinnable conflict. without viserys, without rhaenys, no one is there to temper the fire within her.