#so really I just have to finish writing a scene. Wait a few hours for it to simmer. Come back and edit.

[kindlythevoid]

Any Rewind updates coming soon? 👀

If I was a very lucky person. I'd say we might see one as soon as this Friday.

But then. It may not be a very good chapter, and it may actually be a part one of a chapter.

But if it is finished, and edited, and the people want the not-very-good chapter...

Then perhaps. Perhaps we will have one on Friday.

Kindly,

The Void

[astrxealis]

bg3 is too fun. too fun.

[fushitoru]

infect me with your love

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

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

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

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

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

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

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist | spiderman!gojo masterlist

fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.

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

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

that is, until gojo satoru.

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

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

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

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

but then, the door creaks open behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…what can i get you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and yet, here you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you said to surprise you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“you know, i didn’t get your name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i really can’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“as you wish.”

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

you’ve seen him before.

okay, pause.

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

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

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

alright, pause over. back to now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nice hit, by the wa—”

“it’s you!” you exclaim. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but she’s no longer listening, her focus shifting as a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a makeshift cowboy hat approaches her and then stops in front of both of you, his stare fully enthralled by utahime. “hey,” he says, a bit suavely, in the way that makes you inwardly roll your eyes because you know she’s going to eat it up. she likes it when they’re a little ugly, and this guy fits the bill. 

“hey,” and she giggles, making you have to physically fight the urge to puke, “what’s up?”

 they exchange a few words, and before you know it, she’s smiling in that way that tells you she’s found her entertainment for the night.

“go ahead,” you say dryly, waving her off. “i’ll just fend for myself.”

utahime starts to protest, but you’re already beelining for the kitchen, trying to get a drink that’s not too crazy to survive the night. it’s surprisingly less chaotic in the kitchen, though the counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and some questionable punch that looks radioactive. you scan the room, your eyes landing on a cupboard that might hold something simple—like water. a series of ding! ding! ding!’s go off in your mind as you find the pack of plastic water bottles. 

standing on your toes, you reach for the handle, but it’s just out of your grasp. you huff in frustration, shifting to get better leverage when a hand way bigger than yours suddenly appears above yours, effortlessly grabbing the item you were reaching for.

“let me get that for you.”

you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.

gojo.

he’s standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but there’s something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear you’re so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the night—a shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldn’t be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahime’s, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them. 

“well, well,” he drawls, handing you the water bottle. “never thought i’d see you here.”

you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. “didn’t have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.”

his grin widens. “classic. let me guess—she’s off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?”

“something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“so,” he says, tilting his head, “i heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.”

that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. you’ve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “it was amazing. he’s—he’s incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. he’s like a real-life superhero.”

you’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. he’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “sounds like you’re smitten.”

“maybe i am,” you admit, laughing. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? he’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. it’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details. 

“untouchable, huh?” gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “don’t be ridiculous.”

“i’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and what, you’re not?”

he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “i’m better. i’m real.” he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “i can prove that to you.”

and you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “god, you’re insufferable.”

“really?” he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds. 

it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."

maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"

he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. “i don’t know, someone who’s as smart as you,” he murmurs.

“yea?” you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. “and how would you know how smart i am?”

satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. “because i—”

but he’s interrupted, because you both hear a “satoru” and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojo’s best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. it’s not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, “there’s a burglary happening nearby.” then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. “make sure to stay safe.”

he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?

you try to seek the answer in gojo’s face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because he’s raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a “uh–” he says “i have to go.”

“oh.” you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that you’re not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojo’s last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.

taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state you’re left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more sticky—you reach under your skirt to adjust them so they don’t stick to your crotch so much—and you’re hot all over. 

then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?

you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see  someone there. your head shoots to see the guy who’s now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge. 

“sorry,” you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.

…

the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoru’s apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeout—boxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticks—littered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadn’t thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasn’t focused on the ball but on you.

it was starting to feel like an obsession. he’d always been able to compartmentalize things—his studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? you’d broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.

“do you think she likes me?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. “who, starbucks girl?”

satoru scoffed. “she’s not starbucks girl. she’s…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.

suguru smirked. “oh, she’s got a name now? progress.”

“shut up.”

but he couldn’t shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasn’t just that he’d noticed you now—really noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.

satoru had always known who you were. you weren’t exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didn’t shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didn’t bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.

“frigid,” they called you. “too serious. probably thinks she’s better than us.”

they weren’t entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your work—papers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesn’t even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.

and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.

that day at starbucks, though.

satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadn’t expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. he’d been desperate for answers then—he had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after he’d been horribly sick. he knew he shouldn’t have gone fooling around in new york’s subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since. 

and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.

you’d handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something out—something ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and you’d said something.

what was it again?

“it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didn’t know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, he’d started noticing you in ways he hadn’t before.

the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasn’t an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smile—rare, fleeting, but utterly disarming—that occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.

“you’re doing that thing again,” suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“what thing?” satoru asked, sitting up straighter.

“brooding. you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“no.”

suguru arched an eyebrow. “you’re a terrible liar.”

satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine. maybe i am. but it’s complicated.”

“how is it complicated?”

“she doesn’t like me,” satoru said, shrugging. “at least, not as me. she likes spider-man.”

suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. “you’re being stupid bro.”

“i’m not being stupid,” satoru argued. “she thinks spider-man’s this amazing, selfless hero. she doesn’t know i’m just some guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.”

suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. “so let me get this straight. you’re worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like it’s some kind of split personality thing?”

“well, when you put it like that—”

“it sounds dumb,” suguru finished. “because it is dumb.”

satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged.  but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voice—calm, steady, and unexpectedly warm—echoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasn’t supposed to be so drawn to you, wasn’t supposed to imagine what it’d feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.

“look,” suguru continued, “if you like her, shoot your shot. you’re already overthinking this, and you haven’t even done anything yet. what’s the worst that could happen? she says no?”

“or she laughs in my face,” satoru muttered.

“which would be deserved, honestly,” suguru said, smirking. “but seriously, you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.”

satoru didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasn’t so sure.

because it wasn’t just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to you—if his double life brought danger to your doorstep—he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.

but then there was suguru’s voice in his head, steady and persistent: you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.

…

amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory building’s roof. 

you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.

setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.

“rough night?”

you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you can’t find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you. 

“you scared the hell out of me,” you sighed, clutching your chest.

“sorry,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic. “didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“then maybe don’t sneak up on people like that,” you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.

he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than you’d expected. “noted. so, what’s got you out here at three in the morning? don’t tell me you’re pulling an all-nighter.”

you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. “it’s not an all-nighter if the night isn’t over yet.” then, you squint at a random spot, pretending it’s him. “besides, why are you here? shouldn’t you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?”

“done and done,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. “now i’m just enjoying the view.”

you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. “so, what’s a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he countered.

you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. “just…needed a break.”

“from?”

“everything,” you said, exhaling slowly. “classes. expectations. people.” you paused, then added with a faint smile, “not you, though. you’re an exception.”

“oh?” his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. “should i feel honored?”

“maybe,” you said. “it’s not every day you get to meet a real hero.” then, “okay, but why do you always hide in the dark?”

his voice is smug, meant to be playful. “it adds to the mystique?”

you pout. “what if i call the police?”

“it’s not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses aren’t enough to keep up with me.”

you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. “is success getting to you?”

“what success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.”

“really?” you teased. “that’s not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.”

then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. “are you one of those girls?”

you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you can’t exactly tell him that, yes you’re absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.

“you should do that more,” he said.

“what?” you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion. 

“laugh.”

the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. “and you should stop being such a flirt,” you said, though there was no bite in your voice.

“can’t help it,” he said, leaning closer. “it’s kind of my thing.”

“is that right?”

“mm-hmm.” he paused, then added, “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“take my mask off.”

the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his face—or at least what you could see of it—for any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.

your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. “are you sure?” the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.

“never been more sure of anything,” he murmured, voice low and steady.

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.

with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into view—a shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.

“gojo?”

the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.

he grinned—that grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. “hey.”

“hey?” your voice cracked as you took a step back. “that’s all you have to say? hey?”

“would you prefer, ‘surprise’?” he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldn’t contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. “surprised? you’ve been… you’ve been spider-man this whole time?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence as gojo satoru—the one you’d argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the city’s most infamous masked hero.

gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had won—when he thought he had it all figured out. “i know. it’s a lot to take in.”

you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knew—the guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comeback—and the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.

you didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or cry. 

you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. “you... you saved me, gojo. you’ve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.”

“guess i’m just that good at keeping secrets,” he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.

the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didn’t know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. “this is insane.”

he didn’t seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. “yeah. but you’re handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.”

the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didn’t make perfect sense yet.

and yet, something about his presence—his undeniable realness—felt oddly grounding. he wasn’t the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.

something in gojo’s facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, “do you trust me?”

“yes.” you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. “why?”

“i’m taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.”

you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. “i don’t think this is a good idea—”

“you trust me, don’t you?”

and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.

“fine,” you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him. 

he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. “anywhere you wanna go?”

you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where you’d like to visit that’s open at this ungodly hour. “do you know that one shawarma joint—-”

before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free hand—that is, the one that’s not clinging onto your firmly—to shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then you’re off the ground, soaring through the air.

you let out a scream of terror against gojo’s chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, “are you having fun?” 

“gojo,” you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around. 

when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathless—not just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.

“you good?” he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your  hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, must’ve been messed up from the wind passing through it.

“i hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, i’m good,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.

when you’re done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. “ready to get some shawarma?”

…

the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.

“okay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,” gojo walks alongside you. he’s thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.

“nothing tastes better than something you’re eating when you’re supposed to be studying, instead,” you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that you’re still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?

“yea, that’s fair,” he sighs, crossing his hands behind his head as he continues strolling beside you.  “so,” he continues, “now that i’ve officially blown your mind with my secret identity and fed you some incredibly mid shawarma, what’s next? should i fly you to paris, or is that too cliché?”

you roll your eyes, but deep inside, you’re really biting back a grin. “relax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.”

gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “you’re still thinking about that, huh? admit it—you loved it.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?”

he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “i dunno. there’s a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto me…”

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.

“and yet, you’re still here.”

his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.

“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.

“curious, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “careful. curiosity killed the cat.”

without thinking, you blurted, “at least i’ve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?” the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.

but then gojo laughed—not the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look you’d expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.

the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”

your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. “do what?”

“this.”

before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.

when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. “so, was that better or worse than shawarma?”

you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you don’t have to make eye contact. “i hate you,” you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.

gojo doesn’t let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“oh my god,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “are you embarrassed? you’re so cute.”

when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that he’s nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, “gojo?” 

somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. “i’m here!” you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. it’s coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.

“seriously?” you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.

gojo’s perched on the side of the wall like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. “you’re slow,” he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.

“what are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.

he gestures toward himself. “you came looking for me, didn’t you?”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “what, did you think i’d just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?”

“well,” he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, “you could’ve left, but i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “are we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?”

your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them together—this time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.

and just like that, you start to fall into…something with not only the vigilante that’s swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.

…

when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesn’t expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.

it’s undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. you’re not exactly a hook-up to each other—you two haven’t had sex—but you’re not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and it’s not something casual, either. he doesn’t reveal that he’s spiderman just to get into girls’ pants. 

you’ve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. it’s been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. you’ve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single. 

he’s even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesn’t have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet. 

you’re both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down. 

but right now, he’s perched outside your window like a creep. you’re sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but you’re so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop.

satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. “you know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,” you say.

“i like to keep things interesting,” he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.

he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. “what’s got you looking so miserable?”

“phys401,” you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. “this problem set is impossible.”

satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. “let me see.”

acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. “here,” he says after a moment, “you’re overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since they’re orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.”

you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. “how are you so good at this?” 

“physics prodigy, remember?” he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.

“thanks for the help,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. he’s kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness. 

his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. “anytime.” he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. “you know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, you’re not half bad at it,” he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him.  

you roll your eyes, shifting so you’re cross-legged on the bed, facing him. “not all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.”  

he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. “hard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.”  

you snort and joke, “if charm was all it took, i’d have aced the midterm.”  

there’s a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. he’s corrected a mistake you hadn’t even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. “how do you do that?” you ask, more to yourself than him.  

“do what?”  

“make it look so… easy,” you say, frowning slightly. “everything. physics, life, swinging through the city.”  

satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. “trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”  

you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “what do you mean?”  

he shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. “i mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.” he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. “guess i’m just good at pretending.”  

you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say softly.  

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask—the real one—drops. “i know,” he says, just as softly.  

the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours.  

“thanks,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “for letting me be here. for…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.  

your breath catches. “satoru…”  

“yeah?” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now.  

“i…” you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say.  

he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “can i?” he asks, his voice barely audible.  

you nod, and then his lips are on yours.  

the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeks—months, maybe—finally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake.  

his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you.  

that’s when he freezes.  

he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. “we can’t,” he says, his voice hoarse.  

your heart drops into your chest.

“why not?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.  

“because,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and he’s heaving. “because i’m spider-man, and you—” he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. “you deserve better than this. better than me.”  

you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. “that’s not your call to make, satoru.”  

“i’m trying to protect you!” he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.

you can’t believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after you’ve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflicted—whatever you had, it didn’t have a label. but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want that to be true. badly.

“and who asked you to?” you snap back. “i’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”  

“i know that,” he says, his tone softening. “but if something happened to you because of me…” he shakes his head. “i couldn’t live with that.”  

the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. “so what? you’re just going to walk away? after everything?”  

he stands, his expression pained. “i’m sorry,” he says, heading for the window.  

“don’t you dare apologize,” you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. “if you leave, don’t bother coming back.”  

he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. “i’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night.  

the window clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole. 

…

the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. it’s a quiet shift, the kind you’d usually relish—except today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.

you’re stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahime’s voice breaks through.

“alright, spill,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.

you glance at her, eyebrows raised. “spill what?”

utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “oh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you lie, turning back to the steamer. “i’m fine.”

utahime’s skeptical gaze bores into you. “you’re a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.”

from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. “it’s boy trouble,” he says flatly, like he’s solving an equation.

your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. “excuse me?”

“it’s obvious,” he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. “you’re distracted, you look upset—it’s boy trouble.”

utahime perks up, leaning closer. “wait, is he right? is this about a guy?”

you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. “can you two not gang up on me right now?”

“so it is a guy,” utahime says, her tone turning smug.

“i didn’t say that,” you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. “you might as well just tell us. it’s not like we’re going to let it go.”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “fine. it’s… someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was too…dangerous to keep going.”

utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. “dangerous? what does that even mean?”

“that’s what i’d like to know,” you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. “he acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like i’m some fragile thing that can’t handle it.”

nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “he might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.”

utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. “whatever his problem is, it’s not fair to you. if he can’t get it together, that’s on him, not you.”

you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. “i know that,” you say quietly. “it just… sucks.”

“of course it does,” utahime says, her voice soft but firm. “but you’re not the problem here. don’t let him make you think you are.”

nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. “and don’t let him live rent-free in your head. if he can’t see what he’s giving up, that’s his loss.”

their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. “thanks, guys.”

“anytime,” utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.

…

the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. it’s late—so late it’s early—and for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you haven’t been able to sleep all week. you’re also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.

then it comes again, a little louder this time.

you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.

satoru.

he’s crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like he’s barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, it’s tired and pleading.

you don’t think—there’s no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. “satoru, oh my god,” you breathe, your voice shaking.

“hey,” he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. “sorry for the mess.”

“shut up,” you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. “what the hell happened?”

“nothing i couldn’t handle,” he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. “you should see the other guy.”

“you’re bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didn’t handle it.” you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.

“i’ve had worse,” he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.

“stop talking,” you say, your voice trembling and cracking. “just—just stop.”

for once, you thank the gods that he listens.

you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. it’s not pretty—his torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turn—but you keep your focus.

when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you can’t bear it anymore, going back to your work.

his fingers loosen but don’t let go, his grip warm and grounding. “you’re good at this,” he says softly, his voice rough.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. “you’ve given me plenty of practice.”

the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when you’re done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. “you’re an idiot,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

he laughs, soft and hoarse. “yeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.”

you look up at him, and the weight of everything—his injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between you—crashes over you. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep pushing me away just to show up like this.”

his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know, but…”

“but what?” you demand, your voice cracking. “you’re spider-man? you think that’s an excuse to keep shutting me out?”

“it’s not an excuse,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone else’s, you’re not sure. “it’s a reason. i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“you think i’m not already hurting?” you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. “you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this and know i can’t do anything to stop it?”

his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that he’s just twenty. a college student, not someone who’s wanted by the cia or someone who’s battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he can’t even legally drink. 

and your heart can’t help but melt as he says, “i just… i don’t want to lose you.”

“then stop trying to,” you say, your voice softer now. “stop pretending like you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length. let me in, satoru.”

he stares at you, his breath hitching like he’s holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”

you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. “just stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.”

he nods, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “i promise,” he says, and for the first time, you believe him.

…

a cramp gripping satoru’s entire leg is what wakes him up. 

he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.

he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours. 

you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.

nestled right against his morning wood.

good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. he’s already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.

oh, say can you see—

to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.

“oh, fuck,” he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he can’t even control his lust for you.

but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. you’re awake. 

and because satoru’s selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him. 

“baby,” he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. “is this okay?”

you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. “i thought it was a dream.”

he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush he’s getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. “no, this is very real.”

“hm,” and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, “it still feels like a dream. like you’re not real, right now.”

oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. “i know, baby. you feel like a dream.” his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts. 

you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.

“i’m going to make you feel good right now. tell me if it’s a fucking dream,” he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you. 

you gasp out a “satoru,” wriggling in his grasp, and he can’t take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.

satoru just tied you up using his webs.

you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. “satoru, what the—” but you’re muffled, because he’s kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if he’s devouring you while making out with you.

“do you know,” and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, “how you’ve teased me with these shorts?” his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, who’s left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. “every fucking time i’ve sneaked up in to your room, it’s been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. it’s only fair you pay the price, right baby?”

it’s not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.

“oh, fuck you’re so pretty,” he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. “my good girl.”

then, you feel pressure at your opening. “sato—” you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.

and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. “oh, so that’s the spot, huh?” he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.

“what—” you mumble mindlessly, until you see what he’s doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and he’s not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and you’re just staring in awe at its sheer length.

“what’re you looking at, baby?” he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. “want it so bad, isn’t that right?”

you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. “just put it in, gojo.”

“oh,” and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. “it’s gojo, now is it?”

 “satoru,” there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, “please. i need it.”

a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. “anything for my woman in stem.” with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojo’s back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you. 

he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. “fuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.” 

you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. “satoru, ‘m not gonna last long.” with the amount of foreplay he’s done alongside how sensitive you are, you’re steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoru’s now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.

wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.

“i love you,” he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. “i love you forever and will do so. so you can’t break my heart,” and he’s desperately thrusting again, “and you can’t leave me. please.”

at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. “toru.” he takes one look at your state—face impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.

for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. “so, what’s it like to fuck a superhero?”

you take one look at him—all smug and propped up on his elbow—and spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because you’re then wrenched back with a reminder that you’re still bound. “satoru,” and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means he’s in trouble, “when are these going to dissolve?”

and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. “uhm…maybe five hours?”

if it weren’t for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldn’t have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. “satoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instant—-��

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. “you look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.” but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he won’t mess with you.

“i hate you,” you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.

 satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. “no, you don’t.” 

you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. “clean me up. now.”

at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. “anything for you, ma’am.”

at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never would’ve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. you’re a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesn’t dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating you’ve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.

satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavier—like a tether pulling him between the life he’s chosen and the life he craves.

you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?

still, he knows he can’t walk away—not from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.

“i’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “no matter what.”

instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist | spiderman!gojo masterlist

a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up

plspls pls comment and reblog!!!

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits @ramonathinks

@creamflix

[jxckchxmpi0n]

hi :) love your writing btw

could you possibly do something where jack and actress!reader are both in scream 6 and they’re like really close or in a relationship and she steals one of his hoodies or shirts and he notices while hanging out on sept or in his trailer or something? (prompt being “is that my shirt?”)

tysm ilyyy

Behind the Scenes

Jack Champion x femReader! | m.list

Summary: the on screen relationship started to form off-screen. You and Jack aren't against it.

Warning: just fluff

Word count: 509

Did not proofread.

Ahhh, hi love! I hope you enjoy this! Thank you for requesting this ♡

Edit: first small post <3

There was about a week left to film Scream Six. Over the last few months, you have grown so close with the cast, both you, Jack and Devyn were welcomed with open arms. There was always something fun happening on set with everyone.

And with the last few days of your shoot, you decided to hang out longer on set even if you were done. At some point you and Jack became inseparable. always being at each other's sides having inside jokes. everyone saw the feelings you two had for each other and so did you, but both of you wanted to wait until filming and the press tour were done before going any further.

you were waiting for him in his trailer while he finished shooting his last scene. mindlessly scrolling through your phone you looked up seeing the door open. he came in with his blue shirt with fake blood on the front when he saw you he had this big smile. "oh there you are i was looking for you" he came in and closed the door behind him.

"been here the whole time" you sat up a little bit so he could sit next to you. he had a tired expression "long shoot?" you asked turning to him you rested on the back of the couch holding your head up.

he took the spot next to you closing his eyes for a moment and nodded. you kept quiet knowing he needed the silence. he eventually turned his head to you with a small smile on his lips. "what?" your voice was in a low whisper.

he lets his eyes linger on your face taking in all your little details. his eyes drifted taking in the familiar color jacket. he lifted his head and looked at the jacket closer then looked back at you.

you had a small smile on your face the corners of your lips tugged up as you looked at him. he reached out grabbing the material. then looked back at you. "is- is that mine?" he asked with a softness and with a chuckle following it.

you looked down and smiles "i got cold" you didn't answer his question so he looked at you reached up to lift your chin up.

"did you take my jacket?" he asked his voice soft but also raspy from being tired.

you nodded "i was cold and it was just here on the couch" a big smile took over his face as he thought about how cute you were. his hand brushing your jawline so softly.

"you know i like you wearing it" he said softly. your cheeks filled with a heat as you blushed.

your heart beating fast at this little moment. his chest also pounding from his heart rate. "keep wearing it" he let go of your chin and let his hand rest back into his lap.

you guys stayed in his trailer for another hour just talking and sharing soft little touches. the desire for the press tour and filming wanting to be over faster.

[sunny44]

Sweet gesture

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Co-worker!reader

Warnings: bad period cramps.

Summary: You’re having really bad period cramps and Max do something to make your day better.

The pain was familiar, but that didn’t make the cramps any less painful. I was sitting at my desk, trying to concentrate on the notes for Max’s upcoming press conference. Working with him wasn’t easy. Max was stubborn, rebellious, and seemed to enjoy doing exactly the opposite of what I suggested, which made my job even harder. This often left me frustrated, feeling like I couldn’t do my job properly, but somehow, we made the partnership work.

In the middle of the reminder I was writing, a wave of cramps hit my abdomen, making me contort in my chair, and I ended up dropping my pen. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to take deep breaths to relieve the pain, but it wasn’t working, so I took some medicine and noticed my bottle was empty. I went to refill it and took the opportunity to go to the bathroom as well.

When I returned to my office, I saw something on my desk that hadn’t been there before: a small package of my favorite chocolate with a note on top. Curious, I picked up the note and read: "The internet says chocolate helps, I hope I got your favorite."

I looked around, trying to see if anyone was watching. There was no one nearby who seemed to be paying attention to me. I looked back at the chocolate, surprised and grateful. It was a simple gesture, but extremely thoughtful. I knew who had done it—the hurried scribble on the note was unmistakable. It was Max.

He had probably noticed my discomfort during the morning. Despite the constant arguments and disagreements, this gesture showed that he cared, at least a little. I took the chocolate and unwrapped it, smelling the sweet, comforting aroma. I ate a piece, and to my surprise, it really helped distract me from the pain.

A few hours passed, and I finished the work needed for the press conference. I decided it was time to thank Max. He was in the pit, talking with the GP and reviewing the details for the weekend. I approached, waiting for a break in the conversation to get his attention.

"Max, can I talk to you for a moment?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He turned, a little surprised to see me there.

"Sure, Y/n. What’s up?" I hesitated for a second but decided to get straight to the point.

"I just wanted to thank you for the chocolate. It was a very thoughtful gesture and… it really helped."

Max seemed momentarily disconcerted, but a small, shy smile appeared on his face.

"Oh, no problem. I just… noticed you weren’t feeling well and thought it might cheer you up." I felt a wave of warmth pass through me. It was rare to see this side of Max, so genuine and unguarded.

"It did help, and I appreciate it very much. Thank you." He shrugged, trying to look casual, but I could see he was touched by my gratitude.

"Well, if you need anything else… you know where to find me." I smiled.

"I know, Max. And I promise I’ll try not to bother you too much at the next press conference." He laughed, a genuine, carefree sound.

"I’ll believe it when I see it, Y/n."

I laughed with him, and for a moment, all the tensions and frustrations of the past few weeks seemed to disappear. That simple act of kindness had created an unexpected connection between us. As I walked back to my desk, I felt a little lighter, not just from the lessened pain but from the certainty that despite our disagreements, there was a growing mutual respect and care between me and Max.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“F1 Weekend dump 🏎️”

[mingi-s-dimples]

His, only his - Yunho

KINKTOBER DAY 28, REQ. BY @musiclovingfairy

~"Yunho x fem reader. Possessiveness, almost animalistic? Like he comes from work in the evening and the reader doesn't feel well and they cuddle. Kind of a dom/sub in a way. Can you write it so that he is super possessive and protective and she gets into a deep sub space like a trance almost, but not degradation, more praise. It's smut but nothing crazy, like he makes her feel really small and protected and wants to make her his. With feelings. You know what i mean? 😅"

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre: 18+, soft filth

summary: Yunho's praises overwhelm you in a... rather exciting manner, for him, especially.

wc: 5.3k

warnings: love, multiple orgasms, yunho is really possessive but kind in a way, he really loves reader but rather in an aggressive possessive way, mentions of insecurities (body, academic insecurities), pussy eating, cum eating slightly, marking, unprotected (wrap up irl!), dacryphilia, definitely praise kink (reader), completely consensual, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: I am BACK everyone 🧍‍♀️ it took me fucking ages to find even 10 minutes to write these days but guess what!? SCHOOL IS OVER UNT 8TH JANUARY !!! everyone shout yupi 😭💀 I can't wait to finish every single project I've had in mind until now 🤗 Sweetheart I hope the fic is to your liking, ilysm my bestie 🙈💖 (i also had some problems witj tumblr, it deleted two of my drafts.. had to rewrite them from scratch 💀)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The clock on the wall ticked its incessant rhythm, marking the minutes slipping away. You sat at your desk, staring at your laptop screen, your eyes blurring over the rows of text on a document that you’d been working on for hours. The pile of assignments beside you seemed to mock you with its weight, reminding you of the deadlines you could barely keep up with. Your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a flurry of messages from the group chat you shared with your friends.

*“We’re heading out to the new café tonight! Come with us, Y/N! 💕”*

You bit your lip, hesitation clawing at your resolve. Your heart ached to join them, to feel like a part of their carefree world even for just a few hours, but the reality of your workload was a chain wrapped tightly around your chest. That chain grew heavier with every comparison you made—between yourself and them, their radiant smiles, perfect bodies, and seemingly endless energy to balance everything in their lives.

Your gaze drifted to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, the image reflecting back felt like an enemy tonight. The way your body curved felt wrong. Your face looked dull compared to their glowing complexions, and no matter how much effort you put in, it never seemed to be enough.

"It’s just a moment," you whispered to yourself. "It’ll pass."

But the intrusive thoughts came unbidden, cruel whispers of insecurity growing louder as the night stretched on. You tried to focus, to drown yourself in your work, but it wasn’t long before the tears began to pool in your eyes, blurring the screen. You scrubbed at your cheeks with the back of your hand, but it was no use. The dam had broken.

You didn’t hear the sound of the door opening, nor the soft, purposeful steps approaching behind you.

"Baby," came a deep, familiar voice, warm and laced with concern.

Your breath hitched, your head snapping up in surprise to see Yunho standing in the doorway. His tall frame was bathed in the warm light spilling from the hallway, his broad shoulders tense as he took in the scene before him—your tear-streaked face, the cluttered desk, the weariness etched into every inch of your body.

"Yunho," you croaked, quickly wiping at your face to hide the evidence of your crying.

But he wasn’t having it. In an instant, he was beside you, kneeling down so that his face was level with yours. His hands cupped your cheeks, his touch both firm and tender as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were sharp, almost dangerous in their intensity, as they scanned your face.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice low and brimming with possessiveness.

Your lips parted, confusion mingling with the lingering sadness in your chest. "No one—"

"Don’t lie to me," he cut you off, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. His jaw was clenched, the protective edge in his voice only growing stronger. "I don’t care if it’s someone at school, your so-called friends, or even a stranger. Tell me what happened."

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain that this storm inside you wasn’t caused by anyone else—it was your own mind tearing you apart. But Yunho wasn’t the type to let things slide, especially when it came to you. He leaned in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours as he whispered, "Talk to me, baby. You don’t get to keep this from me."

His words cracked the fragile wall you’d built around your emotions, and suddenly, it all came tumbling out. You told him about the mounting stress of school, the endless comparison to your friends, and the insecurities that had been festering in your mind for weeks. By the time you finished, your voice was trembling, and fresh tears threatened to spill down your cheeks.

Yunho listened in silence, his expression unreadable, but the fierce protectiveness in his eyes never wavered. When you finally stopped speaking, he let out a slow, measured breath.

"You’re wrong," he said, his voice steady but tinged with a possessive edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You blinked, startled by the certainty in his tone. "What?"

"Every single word you just said about yourself—it’s wrong," he growled, his hands tightening their grip on your face. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are? How much I crave every inch of you, every second of the day?"

Your breath hitched at the raw intensity in his voice. Yunho’s gaze darkened, his eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"Those so-called friends of yours?" he continued, his tone turning almost predatory. "They don’t hold a candle to you. They might be pretty, sure, but they’ll never have what you do. They’ll never have my attention, my love, my obsession."

Your cheeks burned at his words, your heart racing as his praise wrapped around you like a warm embrace. "Yunho…"

"No, baby, listen to me," he cut you off, his hands sliding down to your shoulders as he pulled you closer. "You’re the most beautiful, maddening, addictive thing in my life. And if I have to spend every day reminding you of that, I will."

Your mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words and the way his touch ignited a fire under your skin. Yunho’s hands moved again, one sliding down to your waist while the other cupped the back of your neck, pulling you flush against him.

"Do you understand me?" he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat.

"Good," he said, his tone softening just enough to make your heart ache. He leaned back just enough to look into your eyes again, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate path along your jawline. "Because I’m not going to let you talk about yourself like that ever again. You’re mine, Y/N. And I’ll be damned if I let you forget how much you mean to me."

A shiver ran down your spine at the possessiveness in his voice, heat pooling low in your stomach as his words sank in. Yunho’s gaze flickered to your lips again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a claim as it was an expression of love.

The kiss started slow, almost tender, but it quickly deepened as Yunho’s hand tightened its grip on your waist, pulling you even closer. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and you parted them without a second thought, allowing him to take control.

A soft whimper escaped your throat, and Yunho groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your lips. His possessive nature shone through in every movement, the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hand slid down to grip your thigh, anchoring you to him.

"Yunho," you gasped when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

"You feel that, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He looked down at his cock straining against his pants, rubbing against your thigh as he leaned down on you. "That’s how much I want you. Every second, every minute of the day. And it’s all for you—only you."

Your cheeks burned, your body trembling as his words sent a rush of heat coursing through you. Yunho’s lips brushed against yours again, softer this time, but no less possessive.

"I’ll always remind you," he whispered, his voice like a promise. "You’re mine, Y/N. Never forget that."

Yunho didn’t give you a moment to retreat into your thoughts again. His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing soothing circles as he looked at you with a gaze that felt like it could pierce your soul. The intensity of his eyes left you rooted to the spot, your breath hitching as he tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he needed to solve.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low, reverent, and possessive. "So beautiful, even when you’re crying. Even when you’re doubting yourself. Do you know how lucky I am to have you?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as his hand slid from your neck to your jaw, tilting your face up just slightly so you couldn’t avoid his gaze.

"No, don’t look away," he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You’re going to listen to me, baby. Because every word I’m about to say is the truth, and I won’t let you brush it off like it doesn’t matter."

His other hand found your waist, his fingers splaying possessively against your side. You shivered at the contact, acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body, the strength of his grip as if he was anchoring you in place.

"You’re everything to me, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. "Every curve, every soft line of your body—it's mine to adore, mine to protect. You’re perfect, baby. And it kills me that you can’t see it."

The praise was overwhelming, each word sinking into your skin and leaving a burning trail in its wake. You felt flustered, your heart pounding in your chest as Yunho’s thumb brushed over your lower lip. His touch was gentle, but the intensity behind it left you breathless.

"Do you feel this?" he asked, his thumb lingering on your lip before tracing a slow path down to your jawline. "The way your skin reacts to me? It’s like your body knows, even when your mind doesn’t. You’re made for me, baby. Every inch of you."

"Yunho…" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you felt your body responding to his words. A warm, tingling sensation spread through you, pooling low in your stomach, and you shifted slightly in your seat, unable to ignore the way his possessive tone sent your mind spinning.

But Yunho noticed everything. He always did. His eyes darkened as his gaze flickered down to where your thighs pressed together, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Ah," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement and something darker. "There it is."

You froze, your eyes widening in embarrassment as you realized what he meant. But before you could stammer out a response, Yunho leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Don’t be shy, baby. That’s my effect on you, isn’t it?"

The heat in your cheeks spread down your neck, and you bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze. Yunho chuckled softly, the sound low and rich as his hand slid down to rest on your thigh.

"You’re so perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when you’re flustered, even when you’re doubting yourself, your body tells me the truth. It tells me how much you need me. How much you’re mine."

Your breath hitched as his hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing against the hem of your shirt. He took his time, his touch slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second.

"Can I show you?" he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jawline as he spoke. "Can I show you how beautiful you are?"

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat as Yunho’s hand slipped beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that left you trembling.

His other hand found the hem of your shirt, and he tugged it upward slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were too caught up in the way his words made you feel, the way his touch ignited a fire beneath your skin.

As the shirt slipped over your head, Yunho’s eyes roamed over your body, his gaze heated and possessive. He let out a soft, almost animalistic growl, his hands finding your waist again as he pulled you closer.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So damn perfect."

His hands slid up to your arms, his thumbs brushing over your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you. His lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both tender and consuming, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him for support.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. "Do you see it now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you see how much I need you? How much I love every part of you?"

You nodded, your voice failing you as tears welled up in your eyes again—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming feeling of being so completely seen, so completely loved.

Yunho smiled softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear as he whispered, "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, baby. You’re stuck with me. And I’ll remind you of this every single day, for as long as it takes."

And in that moment, the storm of insecurities that had been raging in your mind was nothing but a distant memory, drowned out by the strength of Yunho’s love and the possessive way he held you, as if letting you go was simply not an option.

Yunho’s silence was almost deafening, his dark, heavy gaze taking in every inch of your exposed body. The air between you was thick with tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from him as he stood there, rooted in place, his chest rising and falling with barely contained restraint.

His thumb brushed over your skin, but there was nothing gentle about his touch. It was firm, claiming, as though he was reminding you that you belonged to him and no one else. The possessiveness in his eyes sent a shiver through you, and you felt your breath hitch when his gaze dropped, lingering on the last piece of fabric still separating you from him.

Yunho’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he looked back up at you, his jaw tight with restraint. "May I?" he asked, nodding toward your panties.

You swallowed hard, your body trembling as you nodded, barely able to get the word out. "Yes."

That was all he needed. His hands moved quickly, gripping the waistband and pulling it down with enough force to leave no room for hesitation. The fabric slid down your legs in one swift motion, the roughness of his movements leaving you breathless. He tossed the garment aside carelessly, his focus entirely on you as his hands found your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you gasp.

"Mine," he muttered, his voice thick with a possessiveness that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. "Every inch of you is mine."

His hands slid up your legs, his touch both commanding and reverent as he pulled you closer. There was no space left between you, no room for doubt as Yunho’s eyes locked onto yours. The hunger in his gaze was undeniable, but it was tempered by something deeper—something that made your heart race and your body ache with the need to be closer to him.

"You don’t get to hide from me," he said, his voice low and rough as his hands gripped your hips. "Not when you look like this. Not when you’re mine."

You felt your face heat under his intense gaze, your body trembling as Yunho’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His lips found your neck, and you gasped as he bit down gently, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin before he soothed it with his tongue.

"Perfect," he muttered against your neck, his voice thick with need. "And all mine."

His hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. The intensity in his gaze left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as Yunho’s lips curved into a possessive smirk.

"You’ll let me show you, won’t you?" he murmured, his voice dropping even lower as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "Let me remind you who you belong to."

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, the kiss deep and consuming as his hands roamed over your body with a kind of controlled urgency. Every touch, every kiss, every movement was a claim, a reminder that you were his and no one else’s.

And in that moment, with Yunho’s possessive gaze and commanding touch leaving you breathless, every doubt, every insecurity, every negative thought faded away, replaced by the undeniable truth that you were his—and he wouldn’t let you forget it.

Yunho didn’t waste a second. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down the delicate column of your neck. His kisses were possessive, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send jolts of heat coursing through your body. He wasn’t gentle—he didn’t need to be. Every press of his lips, every bite and kiss, was a declaration: you were his, and he wanted the world to know.

"You look so good like this," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and filled with need. "Marked by me. Remember this, baby. Every time you see these marks, you’ll remember who you belong to."

He worked his way down, his mouth leaving a heated trail along your collarbone, down to the curve of your breasts. His hands slid up your sides, firm and commanding, holding you in place as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away. You felt his breath against your skin as he kissed and nipped, his tongue soothing the small marks he left in his wake.

Your body trembled beneath him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as his lips continued their journey. When he finally pulled back to look at you, his gaze was heavy, filled with hunger and adoration. He stood, towering over you as his hands went to the waistband of his pants.

Yunho’s movements were swift but purposeful as he undid his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops sending a fresh wave of anticipation through you. His pants hit the floor, and your eyes darted to the straining bulge in his briefs. The sight made your breath hitch, your thighs pressing together involuntarily as a tingling sensation spread through you.

He noticed instantly. A low, satisfied chuckle escaped his lips as he stepped out of his pants and kicked them aside. "Feeling shy now, baby?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement and something darker. "After all the ways you’ve let me touch you, you’re still so innocent. God, I love it."

Your cheeks burned, and you averted your gaze, but Yunho wasn’t having it. He crouched in front of you, his hands gripping your knees as he gently but firmly guided your legs apart. "Don’t hide from me," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "I want to see all of you."

You swallowed hard, your body trembling as Yunho stood again, his fingers hooking into the waistband of his briefs. He tugged them down, freeing his cock, and you couldn’t help but gasp softly at the sight of him. His cock stood hard and thick, the sheer size of it making your pulse race.

Yunho smirked at your reaction, his hand wrapping around his length for a moment as he took you in. "You see what you do to me, baby?" he said, his voice low and full of heat. "This is all for you. Only for you."

He moved closer, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned over you. The heat of his body was overwhelming, his presence so commanding that you felt yourself melting beneath him. As he positioned himself between your legs, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, you couldn’t help but let out a soft, trembling sigh.

"Relax for me," Yunho murmured, his voice gentle but firm. One of his hands slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as his gaze locked onto yours. "I’ve got you, baby. Just let me take care of you."

Your heart pounded in your chest as Yunho leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and tender. His other hand moved to guide himself, lining up with you as his forehead rested against yours.

Just as you braced yourself for him, Yunho suddenly paused, pulling back slightly. His forehead still rested against yours, and his breathing was heavy, ragged. He stared into your eyes for a moment, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a devilish smirk.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "I’m not done with you, baby. Not even close."

You blinked in confusion, your body already trembling with anticipation. But Yunho wasn’t in a rush. He shifted his weight, his large hands sliding from your waist to grip your hips, holding you steady as he leaned down.

"Lie back for me," he instructed, his voice rough but gentle. His hands guided you until you were fully reclined on the bed where you were initially sitting on, his body following yours as he pressed soft, teasing kisses down your chest, past your stomach, and toward your hips.

He stopped there, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just above your lower belly.. The warmth of his breath sent shivers through your body, and you couldn’t stop the way your thighs pressed together slightly. Yunho’s hands were there immediately, his grip firm as he gently pushed your legs apart again.

"Don’t hide from me," he said, his voice almost a growl. "You don’t get to do that. Not when you look like this. Not when you’re mine."

Starting at your knees, Yunho began trailing kisses along your skin, moving painfully slowly up the length of your legs. His lips were soft but deliberate, each kiss leaving behind a tingling heat that made your body ache for more. When he reached your inner thigh, he paused, his mouth hovering just above the sensitive skin.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice filled with a possessive hunger. His lips brushed against your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh before he pressed a firmer kiss there. "Already trembling for me. So soft, so perfect."

You whimpered softly, your hips shifting slightly as the ache between your legs grew unbearable. Yunho noticed—he always noticed. His smirk deepened, and the sound of his low chuckle made your heart race.

"Do you have any idea how much I need you right now?" he muttered, his voice rough and thick with want. "How hard it is to take my time when you look like this?"

His kisses moved closer and closer to your cunt, his breath warm against your bare skin. Your thighs trembled under his touch, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. Yunho groaned softly as his lips brushed the sensitive flesh at the very top of your thigh, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if to keep himself steady.

"Stay still for me, baby," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Let me take my time with you."

His lips finally found your cunt, dripping wet on the linen, and the sudden contact made you gasp. Yunho groaned in response, his hands tightening their hold on you as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your sensitive skin.

"God, you taste so good," he muttered against you, his voice filled with raw hunger. "So sweet. So perfect. All mine."

Yunho didn’t hold back. His lips and tongue worked against you with deliberate skill, dragging soft cries and whines from your lips as his hands gripped your thighs tightly. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly in place as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you moving away.

The heat of his mouth and the intensity of his focus had your body trembling uncontrollably. Each stroke of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, and the firm pressure of his grip grounded you in the overwhelming sensations.

"Yunho," you cried out, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair. He groaned against you at the sound of his name on your lips, his grip on your thighs tightening as he redoubled his efforts.

"You’re so responsive," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough. "So perfect for me."

Your back arched off the bed, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. His tongue circled and teased, his movements relentless as he drew you closer and closer to the edge. The sounds that spilled from your lips were uncontrollable—moans, gasps, and whimpers that only seemed to spur him on.

"That’s it, baby," he muttered, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin. "Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart."

And fall apart you did. With a loud cry, your body tensed and then shattered, waves of pleasure washing over you in a blinding rush. Yunho didn’t stop, his tongue and lips coaxing you through the intensity of your orgasm until you were left gasping and trembling beneath him.

As you came down from your high, Yunho pulled back, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you. His expression was one of pure satisfaction, his eyes dark and possessive as he took in the sight of you—flushed, panting, and completely undone.

"You’re incredible," he said, his voice soft but filled with raw emotion. He reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your face during the intensity of the moment. "So beautiful when you come for me. So perfect."

You barely had time to catch your breath before Yunho shifted again, his body aligning with yours as he climbed back over you. His cock pressed against your entrance, the sheer heat and size of it making your breath hitch.

"Ready for me, baby?" he asked softly, his forehead resting against yours. His hands slid to your waist, holding you steady as he lined himself up.

You nodded, your hands resting on his shoulders as you gazed up at him. The love and intensity in his eyes were overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips despite your trembling body.

With a low groan, Yunho began to push in, taking his time as he filled you inch by inch. The stretch was slow and deliberate, and he paused often to let you adjust, his forehead pressed against yours as he watched your every reaction.

"You feel so good," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion and restraint. "So perfect for me, baby. You were made for me."

His movements were unhurried, each thrust, a deliberate act of love and devotion. Yunho’s hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheeks as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, your jaw, and your forehead.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice rough with sincerity. "Every part of you. I need you to know that."

As he moved within you, his touch and his words combined into something overwhelming, leaving you breathless and completely consumed by him. There was no rush, no urgency—only the deep, unwavering connection between the two of you as Yunho made love to you with a tenderness that left no room for doubt.

Yunho moved with a rhythm that was slow and deliberate, each thrust a testament to how deeply he cherished you. His hands stayed on your body, one resting on your hip to anchor you to him and the other brushing up to cup your face. His eyes never left yours, dark and filled with emotion that left you trembling beneath him.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice rough with restraint, as if he was holding himself back for your sake. "You take me so perfectly, baby. Always so perfect for me."

You whimpered softly at his words, your body arching into his touch. Every inch of you was tuned to him, the way he filled you so completely, the way his lips found yours between breaths, the way his fingers caressed and gripped your skin. It was overwhelming, but it was also everything you needed—everything you didn’t know you craved.

His thrusts deepened, each one slow but powerful, sending jolts of pleasure through you. The sound of your soft cries filled the room, mingling with Yunho’s low groans. He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm and ragged against your lips.

"I love you," he said again, his voice rough and filled with conviction. "I love every part of you, baby. Your body, your mind, your heart—all of it belongs to me."

You couldn’t form words, your body too overwhelmed by the slow, unrelenting waves of pleasure he was pulling from you. Instead, you cupped his face, your fingers brushing through his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss. It was messy, desperate, filled with every ounce of love and need you felt for him.

Yunho groaned against your lips, his hips pressing deeper, and the intensity of the moment made your head spin. He moved as if there was no one else in the world but you, as if nothing else mattered but the way your body responded to his.

"You’re mine," he whispered against your lips, his voice low and possessive. His hand slid up to intertwine with yours, pinning it above your head as his movements grew more deliberate. "Every single part of you is mine, baby. Don’t you ever forget that."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming emotion of it all. Yunho noticed immediately, his lips brushing against your cheek as his thrusts slowed slightly.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice gentle despite the tension in his body. "Is it too much?"

You shook your head, your breath hitching as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I love you," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I love you so much, Yunho."

He smiled at your words, his forehead pressing to yours as his hips moved again, deeper and more purposeful as you locked him in. The pleasure built steadily, a slow burn that left you breathless and clinging to him as he guided you toward the edge.

"Let go for me, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. "I want to feel you come for me. Let me take you there."

His words, his touch, the way he thrusted in you—it was too much. Your body tensed, the pleasure reaching its peak as you cried out his name, your orgssm crashing over you in waves. Yunho followed shortly after, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he buried himself fully, his body shuddering against yours as he also came, filling you up.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. All you could hear was the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with his, your body still trembling as he held you close. Yunho pressed soft kisses to your face—your cheeks, your forehead, your lips—his hands stroking your skin soothingly.

"I love you," he whispered again, his voice soft and full of warmth. "Always."

You smiled softly, your body relaxing beneath his as you whispered back, "I love you too."

He pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as the two of you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth and love. The world outside didn’t matter—all that mattered was the way you fit perfectly in his arms, completely his.

NETWORKS;

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (04/10)

Under the Moon

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: dreams and frustrations are shared, leading to a strange and unexpected but enjoyable connection with Aemond and more moments together at the pier.

words: 11k

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hi everyone and I'm sorry for the wait! 🥺 I couldn't write this chapter, it took me a long time because it was difficult for me to develop certain scenes until finally I could finish it and I really hope you like it! 🙏🏻

remember that every comment and reblog is more than appreciated, thank you so much for reading beautiful people and enjoy the chapter!

warnings: none in this chapter.

The night is still young.

The sunlight has disappeared just a few minutes ago, letting the night sky in with the stars and the beautiful moon adorning the deep ocean with it's shimmering lights.

The smell of the salty air invades your lungs with every breath and the breeze gently hits your face, while the sound of the waves crashing against the shore is the only thing you can hear between you and Aemond.

Normally you don't usually come at such an early hour to the pier but... you couldn't help it. And meeting him here too at this hour was something you didn't think would happen.

Yet here you both are.

You feel the tension emanating from his body. You notice how he is completely rigid and takes several drags on his cigarette without giving them much time in between.

You don't know what has happened to him and that's why you asked him if he was sure he wanted you to stay. And even though he told you that you can stay, it doesn't mean that you should ask him what's going on with him... right?

You don't want to intrude and you don't want to make him feel more upset than he probably is. You're curious, in fact, you've been curious since the first time the two of you were here together.

Because you keep asking yourself; what kind of problems could he have? A Crown's guy?

Even though he has already told you that everything doesn't seem as perfect as it looks, you still find it hard to believe that. And you don't understand it because of all the people living at Crown's and specifically him they have no problems with money and never lack anything.

So you wonder what it could be and what it is that has him so stressed and upset.

That's not the only thing that invades your mind though. There's also the fact that the two of you exchanged glances at the party last night and he saw you mixing with the people on his side of town.

You have no idea what he's going to say to you about that. You don't even know if you're going to talk about it in the first place or if he wants to talk about anything in general.

So for the moment the only sound between the two of you is the sound of the waves.

Neither he nor you attempt to speak. You consider talking first as you watch him out of the corner of your eye but decide against it when you see him so serious and so lost in thought, staring off into the horizon.

And if that's what he wants now, peace and quiet just like you, you're not going to ruin it.

So you take a seat at the end of the pier as you kick off your sandals and slip your feet into the water, relaxing at the contact and more so with the view before you; starry sky and the moon reflecting in the deep ocean.

"So Stark is your friend."

He speaks suddenly, mixing the sound of his voice with the sound of the ocean and the atmosphere you both find yourselves in.

And him saying that gets your attention completely and you turn your body slightly to watch him while you're still sitting.

"Yes."

You reply, though nerves betray you, since after all... it seems that the two of you will indeed talk about that topic.

And as you watch him, again he has that look... indescribable.

You hate not knowing what he must be thinking, but he seems to be evaluating your answer. And you don't know if what he's going to say next will be an accusation or simple curiosity, so you decide to clarify that topic.

"My friend Chase works for his family," you begin to explain in a soft voice, "They both met and became friends, so one night Chase took him to a small reunion that my other friends and I were having at the beach on our side of town."

You say, remembering those moments.

"At first we all thought it would be temporary, after all... he's a rich guy from Crown's and his family is just as well known as yours, so we didn't think he would start hanging out with us."

You let out a slight sigh, looking out to where the ocean has no end.

"But it turns out he's simpler than he looks and... well... he likes to relax, hang out and be with a group of friends where nothing is demanded of him," you say, remembering his words, "With us he doesn't have to pretend or maintain the facade that most people at Crown's have to maintain."

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze for a moment.

"Or that's what he said."

You finish explaining and he doesn't say anything and honestly that starts to bother you.

You can tell he's a person who analyzes and evaluates people as well as words before he speaks, taking all the time necessary. But that's not a bad thing, what makes you desperate is that you don't know what he's probably thinking.

He has a way of doing things so... subtly and nonchalantly.

Then he turns his body towards you and leans his back against one of the wooden posts supporting the roof of the pier, having you completely on his radar of vision with the cigarette between his long, pale fingers.

He watches you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat and again, inevitably, you feel nervous.

"That explains it, then," he says softly, "Why you can so easily walk into Crown's and move among us."

You have to stifle a bitter laugh, since of course he thinks you're trying to pretend to be as one of them and that sounds totally ridiculous, even to you.

"It's not like I'm trying to pretend to be like one of you."

You say with a sincere tone, watching him seriously.

"Neither my cousin nor my friends or I do that. We're not from Crown's."

He tilts his head.

"Oh no?" he says in a soft but slightly expectant tone, "Then what were you all doing at the party last night if Cregan doesn't like being with his own kind?"

"The guys and I ask Cregan to get us in because sometimes they're the only way out of the everyday," you explain, "Those parties make us forget for a while who we really are and enjoy things we don't have access to, like... an escape. But it's not our life," you shake your head, "We don't belong there and we don't pretend we do, we just... want to have fun."

He listens to you and evaluates you silently, again, looking for some sign that disproves what you claim. But there is nothing, nor is there anything else to say, because it's the truth.

"But last night..." he begins to say, "I saw you and you seemed fine... and fitting right in. Even better than others."

This catches your attention and you tilt your head to the side, genuinely surprised and interested.

"You also seemed fine where you were and... with her... y-your girlfriend."

Your last words come out with difficulty, stumbling between your lips before you could stop them.

'Okay, now why did you decide to say that?'

You ask, or rather reproach yourself. But it's not like you can turn back time, he's already heard you and you... you don't know what to say to save or excuse your words.

But then you notice a change in him.

A subtle change passes over his face, almost imperceptible. He stirs for a second where he stands and throws the little that is left of his cigarette.

You notice again the tension in his body and for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon, hard and expressionless, shows a shadow of doubt that he does not want to show. However, the silence between you two fills with a slight awkwardness and a tension that you don't understand.

He tries not to let down that impenetrable wall around him, but it seems your words have made a crack and you bring that annoyance back to him.

'Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned his girlfriend?'

You're about to apologize but he speaks first.

"You know her?" he asks in a low, almost distant tone, still not watching you.

"The mean girl?" you ask without thinking but instantly regret it and panic invades your entire system, "Oh no, no, no, I mean... sorry. I-I didn't—

"It's okay," he interrupts you, with a disinterested calm that bewilders you.

This also gets your attention and confuses you but you already feel embarrassed enough because clearly you shouldn't refer to the girlfriend that way in front of her boyfriend, so... you try to think before you speak.

"I mean..." you clear your throat, "Floris Baratheon? Sure. Well, her whole family."

You try to lighten the mood.

"Although my cousin and I ran into her and her friends yesterday morning on the pier," you start to say, "Your sister was with them too, but... she wasn't present when she started making fun of us for not having money, being poor and all," you list with boredom, already being very common.

That especially gets his attention and for the first time in all the time the two of you have been here together, he glares at you with furrowed brows.

"She made fun of you?"

He asks you with a seriousness that instantly makes you feel nervous and intimidated. And of course, he's not going to believe you, she's his girlfriend.

"Well... n-no, I mean... surely she acts differently with you," you start to say nervously and without finding the right words to express yourself, "Surely she must be very kind and nice... but... with you and her people, you know what I mean?"

He looks at you confused, not understanding, narrowing his eye at you and you can't find a way not to make his girlfriend look bad.

"It's just that..." you get frustrated, shaking your head, "Look... huh... she's your girlfriend and I don't want you to think that what I'm telling you are lies, so—

"I don't think that," he interrupts you, this time with an honesty that takes you by surprise. "I believe you."

You look at him uncertain.

"Really?"

He doesn't respond, just nods his head as he turns around and rests both arms on the wooden railing. He runs a hand over his face and in the process, messes up his silver hair, letting a few strands fall messily over his forehead.

"I've heard stories," he says then, without looking at you, "Apparently... she finds it funny to make fun of those who aren't of her own status... like other people I know."

He says with some bitterness.

"But when she's with me or my family... she acts completely different. And it's a little hard to believe when my mother or father hears those rumors but....

He shakes his head in disdain.

"Cregan is right, it's all appearance. It always is."

You remain silent, letting his words echo in the air.

The revelation about Floris stuns you, not because you wouldn't have guessed it, but because he, being her boyfriend and close to her, acknowledges it with such bitterness.

And there is something in his words and in his posture, which makes you realize that he is no stranger to such falsehood and you wonder... maybe he thinks just like Cregan and is caught up in appearances and perfection, just like him?

Still, you remain genuinely confused, with a question you can't help but ask him.

"But... don't you love her?"

The little laugh he lets out catches your attention and you see him shake his head, as if the idea is something absurd and impossible to be, which leaves you more confused.

"It's not what it seems. Our relationship... it's not genuine."

You frown and look at him blankly, feeling foolish for not doing so but... you really don't understand.

"What do you mean?"

He doesn't say anything to you, just lets out a low sigh and bites the inside of his cheek, knowing perfectly well that he can't talk to you about it because it might be a bad idea.

He doesn't know you, you don't know him and these are... delicate, important issues that should be kept in the family.

It doesn't matter if are issues that consume him and suffocate him, he has to bear it and deal with it because that's the way things are in his family, and period, there's nothing he can do or say about it.

And you notice that. The hesitation and the distrust, because both you and he understand that he shouldn't trust you, a poor girl from Black Waves, with anything.

But you know when a person is drowning.

You see it in the look and the way they move. You saw it in Cregan when he first joined the group, all your friends saw it and Aemond... you can see that the surface is about to overtake him.

And yet he has to put up with that, for whatever he owes his family and you understand that. You are no one to force or try to convince him to talk to you.

"I understand that you don't want to talk about it with me."

You begin to tell him in a soft tone.

"And I also know that I'm no one to make you share your ideas or concerns with me because I wouldn't understand. Even right now I have a hard time understanding that someone like you, who has everything, would have problems, you know?"

You tell him with a small incredulous smile and a wry look.

"But that's just my ignorance because I really don't know anything," you say in acceptance, "And... I really hope you find that person you can talk to and get it off your chest," you tell him in the most honest way possible.

Then, again, it's as if something inside him changes but this time... it breaks.

You notice that subtle change, in how his shoulders that always seem tense, as if carrying the weight of the whole world, drop a little and his breathing becomes heavier and slower.

And you don't know it but something in him is falling apart, the moment you told him that you find it hard to understand that he, who has everything, has problems.

But that is the image that his family has always reflected. That is the image that his father has put on him and all his children for all people to see. A perfect family, him being the perfect, flawless son.

And it's so much weight, the reality and your words, that he finally reacts.

"My whole life is an obligation."

He speaks with a hardness in his voice, not watching you and you watch him intently at the moment he begins to speak.

"For as long as I can remember, my whole life has been planned, with no say or decision for me. Because my decisions were never mine, they are my father's and my mother's who is always supporting him, trying to find the good side in everything," he says bitterly, "The two of them deciding between my hobbies, my friendship's, my relationship's, my studies and my future, no matter what I want or what I feel."

You are surprised by the harshness and ease with which he speaks, not yet looking at you, but finally expressing himself and venting, letting out all that he has been enduring and must endure.

"And Floris is that... a decision I didn't make or I want to make," he says seriously, "It... it was never... never a matter of love, the two of us..." he sighs, "The two of us are nothing more than a convenience. A piece on my father's board."

You part your lips and watch him confused but with realization, trying to see if what you're hearing is what you think it is.

"He, my grandfather and his entire team are always looking for alliances and partnerships for the company. Ways to strengthen our connections with other families that are advantageous and Floris... is that."

He motions with his hand and still with the bitterness is all over his face.

"Is that link between his father and mine through me, as if I... have no judgment of my own and even if I do, that doesn't matter to him because I must do what he asks me to do with family in mind, because that's the only justification."

And then... he starts talking without stopping, expressing himself fully while you just stand there, silent, watching and just listening.

"Just as I must study a fucking degree I don't want and don't like," he onfesses, "But I must do it to keep the company someday because Aegon will never do it, my father is already angry enough at him, Helaena won't do it either, Daeron is still young and someone must do it, then that someone must be me."

H points to himself harshly and bitterly, anger in his voice.

"But I do it so the fucking fights in my house don't happen anymore and so my father doesn't end up hating us completely."

He takes a breath and puts on a bitter smile, looking up at the sky for a second, shaking his head.

"But it's not even worth it, you know?" he tells you in a lower, calmer tone, "That's the worst of it, my dad... he's not worth it," he shakes his head, "I don't owe him shit."

He runs a hand through his hair again, as he stares out at the ocean and bites his lower lip with anger coursing through his veins.

"He didn't even notice me since I was a kid until I told him I was going to study business to take over the company. And yet, I have to put up with it for my mother and my siblings... because I don't want my family to explode."

Silence falls between you again, but this time it's not awkward or tense.

His confession leaves you stunned, because you definitely didn't expect to hear any of this. Not even about his father and his family. And he's... still tense, with his jaw clenched and his gaze furrowed in anger.

It's like he's blowing smoke out of his body, from all that resentment and all that anger not only at his father, but also at himself, at the crushing expectations that have haunted him his whole life.

But, in some strange way, he finds himself with one less weight on his shoulders for finally venting.

And you can't believe it.

Maybe you've been so ignorant and you've seen so many movies and read so many love stories that you think... if you're with someone in a relationship, especially people your age, it's because you must both love each other.

And that's what you thought of him and Floris, two rich parents' children who have a bright future together. But now, everything you had assumed about them falls apart.

And how come you didn't see it coming?

You mean, all of them, all these men are rich and they reinforce that power with richer people with their alliances, whether it's of any kind, but the point is to relate to people who are equally or more wealthy and to keep them.

And now that Aemond has entrusted you with this, it makes sense.

And you can't be blamed for not having thought about it before, summer has barely begun, you're enjoying it, you're also working and certainly these ideas don't cross your mind when you're poor and have nothing to do with this world.

So you finish processing everything he has said in silence, realizing that he has shared more with you than he has probably shared with anyone in a long time.

You realize how important this moment is, even if you don't know exactly what to say.

Then Aemond reacts again and finally looks at you, letting out a long sigh as he closes his eye and runs a hand over his face again.

"I spoke too much," he says in a low tone.

And then you react too.

"No, no," you quickly say, "I-I..." you lick your lips, having no idea if what you'll say is good or bad, because you really don't know what to say, "I'm relieved you got it off your chest with me."

He shakes his head as he places a hand on his chin, looking off into the horizon.

"That's not even half of what's going on."

You press your lips together, getting an idea of what it might be about now that he's told you about it. And you let out a long sigh, still processing it and keeping in mind that he should let it all out.

"So it's all about your father and his business," you say softly.

And he nods, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. And you notice the mixture of weariness and disdain he finally shows on his face now that he's told you about the situation he's trapped in.

"My father has worked for years to secure his empire and his legacy," he says with a certain heavy tone, "And by partnering with Borros Baratheon, he strengthens and elevates his entire business."

He explains briefly.

"For him, this is an opportunity he cannot pass up and my relationship with Floris will make that partnership happen."

'Of course.'

You think with obviousness and bitterness reflecting on your face, as you briefly shake your head.

You're not even Floris but you just can't help but put yourself in her shoes, even though you don't like her and consider her a horrible person.

But if you were her.... you really wouldn't want to be in a relationship like that. Much less a relationship where all the time you are showing off in front of people when the harsh reality is otherwise.

"And does she know?" you ask quietly and cautiously, "Floris?"

To your surprise, he nods. And you don't know if that makes it all worse.

"She must have an idea about it," he replies in a more distant tone, "Maybe she doesn't quite admit it, but... no one can be so blind as not to notice."

You feel a knot form in your chest and can't help but watch him with a mixture of pity and understanding.

And he looks back at you for a second, so you try to keep a neutral face instantly, and then he continues talking with a frustrated look on his face, venting.

"And somehow, she thinks that can change. That she can try to make us both have something real, but..." he shakes his head, his tone turning sour, "From the beginning I didn't want to do any of this. It wasn't my decision because she doesn't interest me in that way."

He confesses and you listen to him with full attention.

"And it feels bad... it feels bad to see her trying to change that knowing the reality of things. And then I feel guilty..." he points to himself, "For not being able to reciprocate her feelings when I see her trying to do something that's not going to work."

And once again, you can't help but feel bad for Floris as the silence falls again between the two of you.

You remain silent, because you absorb his words. As these same words hang in the air, but at the same time, you feel that something important has been shared.

He sighs, as if the breeze could carry some of his burden away and the sound of the ocean enveloping him could protect him. He has let his guard down.

He has shown a part of himself that he probably won't show anyone else.

And while you don't fully understand what he's going through, you understand his words and how everything is defined by duty and by the expectations others have of him.

And in some ways, that hurts you for him. And those expectations and the weight of duty are too strong to go away so easily.

"And you haven't tried to...like .... really give her a chance?"

He shakes his head again.

"It's hard when the people around you let you know the real person she is," he says in a distant tone.

You let out a long breath, looking away from him for a moment, and then with smooth, nonchalant movements, you pull your feet out of the water, shake them off and stand up from where you are sitting.

You're not sure what you're doing, but you decide to approach him, even if it's just a little to make him feel that he's not alone.

Even so, you do it calmly and without very aggressive movements, since you don't want to scare him or make him feel that you are invading his space. And you place yourself next to him, also leaning on the wooden railing just like him.

You glance sideways at him for a moment before turning your gaze back to the horizon.

"And what do you really want?" you ask softly and with genuine curiosity.

He turns his head slightly towards you and notices your closeness, which, fortunately and surprisingly, doesn't scare him, since strangely, your presence... doesn't seem uncomfortable nor does it bother him.

Maybe it is the way you are listening to him, really listening to him and offering him a space where he can express himself without being judged, without expectations and without objections, that makes him not back down, stay and open up, even a little, for the first time in a long time.

But your question, makes that doubt appear on his face again for a moment, turning his gaze forward, feeling a little insecure behind his firm and controlled facade.

It's been a long time since he's been asked that question. In fact... he's never been asked it. And he doesn't know how to answer it.

"It's not about what I really want, Y/N. It's about what's expected of me."

You shake your head.

"But that's not fair, Aemond."

"In my life rarely anything is."

"But then what do you really want?" you ask again, your tone insistent and firmer, "Forget about your father and your whole family for a second," you say, "What I'm asking you right now, here, with no one around, just you and me... what do you really want in your life, Aemond?"

Your words float in the air and the silence that follows is deep, almost palpable.

You watch as he closes his eye for a moment, as if searching deep within himself for an answer he has buried beneath layers of other people's expectations. And when he wants to say something, he opens his mouth, but then stops, hesitant, unsure.

Yet he has the answer.

Until he lets out a sigh and for the first time looks directly at you, his expression softer, almost vulnerable, but not completely, just... a sincere expression.

And as if he's preparing to say something he hadn't allowed himself to say out loud before.

"I want to go to medical school in Oldtown," he finally says quietly but with a firmness he hadn't had before, "That's what I really want."

And you can't help but place a small but soft smile in his direction, relieved that he's finally talking it out.

"I've always been interested in it. I've always wanted... to do something meaningful, something that really matters. Not just for me, but for other people."

He admits, his tone vulnerable but determined.

"But...I've never told anyone, much less my dad. Because I know he'll never care and probably just laugh about it."

He pauses for a moment, as his mind seems to wander between memories and frustrations built up over the years.

"I don't want to do anything he tells me," he continues, his jaw tense. "I don't want to be with Floris. She... I don't know, she deserves someone else," he says with a shrug, "And I just... I want peace and freedom to be myself."

He confesses.

"I want to be able to choose my own path and live without feeling like I'm letting everyone around me down, that..." he sighs, "That's all I want."

You feel the strength and longing in his words. You're so engrossed in listening to him and watching him that you barely notice that the two of you are getting closer and closer.

And you don't really know him, clearly for obvious reasons, but you know that this Aemond Targaryen right now is different. He is not the man who always seems to be in control of everything.

No, the Aemond in front of you is someone who just wants to be free.

He looks back at you and you see that silent wish that he wants so badly to come true. And he may not tell you directly, but in that moment he realizes that this is what he has been looking for, unconsciously, someone who will listen to him, understand him, and stand by his side without judgment.

"And I know it sounds stupid," he mutters, averting his gaze, "It's impossible. But... yeah, that's what I want."

You press your lips together.

"Don't say that. It's not stupid," you assure him in a soft tone, "It's your dreams. Your true aspirations. And no one has any right to take that away from you. Not even your father."

The silence that follows your words is soft but heavy at the same time. You both stand still, absorbing the weight of the words you have just spoken.

You because you understand that no one should make less of your feelings or thoughts and Aemond because no one had really said those words to him before.

But also, he feels the tension in his shoulders return and he suddenly feels so vulnerable and exposed, something he's not at all used to and all because he trusted you with something intimate about him and his family.

He shifts slightly where he stands, uncomfortable, and you notice this, how his expression gradually closes, slowly turning back to his usual hard, impenetrable mask.

Then you understand that perhaps he is worried that you have seen his weakness, something no one else has seen. But what he's shared with you doesn't make you feel a kind of power over him now, at all.

So you decide to do something genuine too: share with him.

You take a deep breath, not because you're hesitating, but because talking about your past always brings a slight pressure to your chest, but you really want to do it.

"You know..." you begin in a soft tone, "I understand what it's like to have a dream... something you love deeply and want to achieve, even if circumstances aren't always on your side."

Aemond turns to you, his blue-gray eye catching your gaze.

"I've always wanted to study Literature," you confess with a small smile, "Writing, reading... I've always been passionate about it. And while I know it may seem impractical to many, my mom always supported me. She believed in me and believed that one day I could work in a big publishing house and maybe, even publish something of my own."

A small nostalgic smile forms on your lips as you look out over the ocean and remember those conversations you had with her, those days talking about books, characters and imaginary worlds.

Then you turn your gaze back to him and realize that he is actually listening to you, watching you intently, which gives you courage to continue.

"My dad couldn't make it to that stage of my life," you add later and bite your lips for a few moments, "He died when I was little from cancer."

You are surprised at yourself, as you have never been able to say those words before. And if you did, you would burst into tears, but in this moment... surprisingly you don't break down.

"He was everything to us and when he left... well, everything changed and things got a little difficult," you continue, "My mom did everything she could until we moved here because she could no longer maintain us in Nevada and my aunt and uncle took us in."

You pause for breath, feeling the emotion building up in your throat, but you manage to remain calm. And Aemond continues to listen to you attentively, without interrupting and with his posture again relaxed.

"Until a year ago, my mom also became ill with lung disease," you continue finally, watching the horizon, "We all did everything we could but she also passed away."

You are silent for a moment, feeling the weight of your words in the air.

You think about how you hadn't talked about this with many people, and you certainly didn't think you would with someone like Aemond. But now, here, with him listening to you in the same way you listened to him, you feel that maybe it was something you needed to share.

He doesn't say anything at first, but you see the slight gleam of compassion in his eye.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs sincerely.

You take a deep breath and nod, though you try not to let the sadness wash over you completely. You don't want the moment to become too dark.

"I'm fine," you reply softly, "Despite everything that's happened, I haven't stopped wanting to study Literature or work hard to achieve that someday."

You look up at him, finding his attention fixed on you.

"And you can do the same, Aemond," you add softly. "I know it's not easy. I know your situation is... complicated and that your father is... a dick," you joke a little, though it's the truth, "But there's always a way out. You may not see it now, but it exists. You just have to find it and you have to fight for it."

Aemond watches you silently for a moment, processing what you just said. His eyes soften slightly and you look at him with a warm, reassuring gaze, assuring him of your words.

Then, you feel as if something changes between you two.

Both have shared something important, something that has allowed them to understand each other better and to unburden themselves in their own way. And you both stand there, thoughtful, looking at the horizon with the sea wind blowing softly.

You feel a little less weight on your shoulders. And maybe, just maybe, Aemond feels the same way too.

"Thank you for listening to me," he says, in a soft murmur, watching you, "I really appreciate it."

A small smile settles on your lips and you watch him with all the sincerity in your eyes.

"I know we don't know each other but you don't have to face all this alone," you say then nod in his direction, "So I'll be here if you need me."

And you both stand there, sharing a moment of peace that neither of you had anticipated, just like the first time you both met on this pier.

A rich guy from Crown's and a poor girl from Black Waves, neither you nor he would have imagined it, but here you are... it's a reality and a relief at the same time.

And the feeling of regret doesn't come at any time.

You assume you've both already let out what you wanted, so after you both stay in that comforting silence for a few more moments, and then you watch the time on your screen and let out a long breath.

"I don't want to get emotional..." you start to say, breaking the silence, "But you do know that we both have to go back to our respective worlds and pretend we don't know each other, right?"

He can't help but smile a little, understanding exactly what you mean and can't help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment, as do you.

"Yeah, I'm aware," he tells you softly, watching you.

You observe him with a resigned look, without erasing the small smile on your lips.

"Here," you point to his pocket with your gaze, "I'll give you my number."

That gets his attention and he turns to stand before you, reaching into his pocket.

"Are you sure?"

"Are you?" you joke, smiling, "Come on, it's no big deal."

He takes it, unlocks it in a quick gesture and holds it out to you, to which you take it and... you don't know what to do for a moment.

Sure enough, it's an IPhone, the kind of phone that only rich people like him can afford because of it's high price. While you look at it and feel sorry for your old phone of a different model and that the touch is barely functional due to the time you've had it.

"Whatever you need, within my possibilities..." you say as you add yourself to his contacts, "Or if you need to talk, about anything, just text or call me."

You extend it back to him and watch him, as he's already watching you and picks up his phone, putting it back in his pocket, having no idea what to say for a moment.

"Okay," he murmurs, his voice low but clear.

You nod again, saying nothing more, with reality starting to get to you. So you clear your throat softly and let out a sigh.

"Well, I... I should be going now," you say, "I have to work early tomorrow."

Aemond's expression changes for an instant, not expecting you to leave so soon. And he straightens up completely, pulling his arms away from the railing.

"I can drive you home," he offers suddenly, not even him thinking before he speaks, but wanting to.

And that takes you by surprise for a moment, but then you shake your head.

"No, no, that's okay," you reply, "Thanks but I don't want to bother you."

He frowns.

"It's no bother," he insists more gently, "I can drive you, really."

You look out over the horizon for a moment, feeling the cool ocean air caress your face. And you really appreciate the offer but he needs to stay here.

After all he shared with you, he needs to still feel this peace and quiet of the place.

“No, thank you, you…” you try not to look rude, ”You need to stay here. You need it,” you tell him, "It will do you good, trust me," you assure him, ‘I'll see you another time."

You wave goodbye as you turn away, with a slight smile.

"Take care."

He watches you as you walk away, your soft but firm footsteps echoing lightly against the wood. The feeling of this summer night envelops you both, but both of you also feel this sense of something incomplete but meaningful between the two of you.

You think that for the first time, you realize that Aemond Targaryen, even where he comes from, all that he has and all that he will have in the future, he is not so different from you.

And he doesn't tell you that, in fact he hadn't thought or felt it before but now, as you slowly disappear from his sight, he realizes he is glad that you appeared on the pier almost at the same time as he did.

“Remind me why we have to do this.”

Alysanne's annoyed and upset voice makes you watch her and you smile in amusement as you watch her struggle with the buttons on her work shirt.

“Because we need the money to help your parents,” you say, brushing back your hair, “We also need to be able to buy our own things and also because we need to save up to go to college.”

These are valid enough reasons for both of you, but you both can't help but complain.

“I hate Mr. Frey, I hate him so much,” she mumbles.

“Think about the money, Aly.”

“That doesn't make me hate him any less. I haven't even been able to enjoy the summer like I'd really like to.”

Well, that's true, this summer has started out different and not how you both planned, but there's nothing you can do about it.

“And speaking of that…” she again says, “There's a party tonight. At Sunsets Pier. I think the Stark's and the Arryn's set it all up or something like that Cregan said but the point is, everyone can go.”

“Ugh, no,” you quickly say, making a face, “I've been to enough parties in such a short time.”

“What are you talking about!” she exclaims to you incredulously, ”There will be free food and drinks, live music and lamp shows or something.”

“They do the lamp show almost all the time,” you remind her without emotion.

“But everything else is free!”

You let out a long breath.

“I'm not in the mood to go. Especially not when I have to endure Mr. Frey most of the day and we only get one day off from him and his exploitative job.”

“Ugh, you're so boring,” she scowls at you as she watches you through the mirror and finishes fixing her shirt.

You make sure your keys, wallet and phone are in your small bag, then stare at the screen.

“Okay, time to go or we'll be late,” you let her know.

She lets out a whimper.

“I don't want to work anymore,” she whines like a little girl.

A few minutes later, you both arrive at the restaurant on time and immediately get to work, with Mr. Frey's eyes watching your every move like a killer gargoyle ready to jump at the slightest mistake.

And both you and Alysanne do the same as always.

Take the order, bring the food, clear tables as soon as they are empty, reorganize, clean up again, bring the customers anything they ask for in case they are missing, be available to them at all times and in some cases charge them.

And while you do everything automatically, totally used to it after a while, in the middle of it all you can't help but get lost in your thoughts and think about him.

It makes sense when it hasn't even been twenty-four hours, but… you really can't help it and you can't get him out of your mind. The way he talked to you about his frustrations, shared with you his dreams, his longings and the way he paid attention to you too… his look, his eyes… it all invades your mind.

And foolishly, you can't help but wonder if he's thinking about it too… about you. Although you just wish you weren't the only one feeling this way.

You also wonder when you'll see him again, but the thought of imagining it, thrills you, makes your heart race and makes you realize you want that to happen soon, which you never imagined such a feeling you could feel for Aemond Targaryen himself, of all people.

But then the restaurant gets more crowded as the evening goes on and you have to be more attentive and active.

You and Alysanne move back and forth, keeping busy with everything you have to do, even with Mr. Frey making sure neither of you slows down for a second, being so annoying.

And then, as you're finishing clearing a table, the sound of the doors of the place opening makes you watch the new customers almost automatically and your question of when you'll see Aemond again is answered in that instant.

Your heart stops for a second and you see him, entering the restaurant, joined by his family, the Targaryens.

You immediately recognize Alicent Hightower from all the magazine covers where she has appeared with her husband, always so elegant and majestic.

And where Mr. Frey, upon seeing her, attends to her himself with all the kindness and cordiality possible, allowing her to enter his restaurant as if she were the most important person in the whole world.

Next to her, you identify Helaena, which is not impossible because of her delicate and beautiful appearance, besides her silver hair, of course. With them also comes the youngest of the siblings, Daeron.

And at the end is him.

With his firm posture and the same serious, impenetrable look as always, he scans the whole place without much importance, when his gaze meets yours.

You again feel your heart skip a beat and trying to look busy, you instantly avert your gaze, pretending to be busy with something at the cash register.

You try to focus, but now that he has also seen you and now knows where exactly you work, it causes a wave of nerves to wash over you and your hands begin to tremble slightly, especially since you feel his gaze on you.

Luckily, they choose a table on the terrace, with a view of the sea, so the only thing that separates you are the large windows and the glass doors, although he can easily see you through them and you can easily see him too.

And it's a strange feeling to have him there, so close, in the same space, but behaving as if you don't know him.

Fortunately, it's Mr. Frey himself who takes their order and then it's Alysanne's turn to bring them the food, so you breathe a sigh of relief and stop feeling a little tense.

Time goes by and you can't help it, while you do your job, you watch his family and him out of the corner of your eye.

Mrs. Alicent has such a natural and perfect elegance and demeanor, looking even kind. Helaena seems more oblivious to everything, but you also notice that she is very close to her mother. While Daeron is more carefree and Aemond… he doesn't talk much but he looks more relaxed.

Even watching him here in the restaurant, he also maintains that hard-to-read expression.

What he shared with you last night is still fresh in your mind and you can't help but wonder how he is able to maintain that facade under constant family pressure.

You finish delivering the food to one of the tables that is, not close to his but not too far away either and then, out of inertia, you go back to watching him and he is already watching you.

Nervous, but with a blank stare, you look away again.

You both act as if you don't know each other, as if last night on the pier never happened. And though it hurts a little, you know it's the right thing to do.

Here, in the crowd and in front of everyone's eyes, especially those of his family, there's no room for that connection the two of you had last night.

Then minutes pass, then an hour and they're gone.

It makes no difference though, as you continue to work, keeping busy and distracted. Alysanne in a few small breaks tries to convince you to go to the party at the pier but you continue to refuse, as apparently the customers are also talking about that.

But you don't have the courage or the energy to be among a lot of people.

Finally, after the long hours have passed, both of you finish your shift and it's time to go home.

Clearly neither of you are allowed to use your phones during your shift, so when you hold it in your hands and turn on the screen, the first thing you see is a message from an unknown number.

But you instantly recognize who it is and a silly little smile appears on your lips as you read the message: Tonight?

You see the time and realize that he sent it to you at the time when he was at the restaurant, so you quickly reply without thinking: I'll be there.

You knew that if you told Alysanne that you were going to the pier now not so forbidden, she would kill you.

First she would start complaining and demanding you to know why you want to go to the pier and not to the party with her.

And you don't want to tell her yet about everything that's been happening with Aemond because even you don't know.

So you preferred to save yourself the nagging and all the questions, you also wait for her to leave and once she does, you also leave the house.

So now once again you have successfully managed to jump over the wall and you head towards the pier, where in the distance you can see the figure of Aemond at the end, with the smoke of his typical cigarette floating around him, looking towards the horizon.

Once again you can't help but start to feel excited and a little nervous, having no idea what the two of you will be talking about tonight, but you assume he just wants some company and honestly you want that too.

So feeling more confident, you start to walk onto the pier, with all the anticipation and excitement coursing through your body, unable to help the small smile on your lips.

"Hey, stranger."

You speak when he's a few feet away from you and he turns, incorporating his whole body to watch you and when he does, a confused little smile appears on his lips.

"Stranger?"

"Yeah, you know, because we have to pretend in front of everyone that we don't know each other," you say with an amused smile, positioning yourself next to him, "I brought marshmallows," you raise the bag in your hands.

He throws his cigarette away, frowning.

"Marshmallows?"

"Yeah, I... I don't know, I thought if you want, we can go to the beach and have a bonfire and eat these," you suggest, "But only if you want," you hasten to add.

Aemond stays quiet, watching your face and then the bag of marshmallows in your hands, watching as you have a slight hope that he'll say yes.

And it makes him feel a little weird since he's never done that before. Not even with Helaena.

But... that you planned this when he was the one who asked you to come without having any plans in mind other than the two of you sitting here and watch the ocean, it surprises him because as simple as the idea is, it's something out of the ordinary for him.

And because of that, it's why he doesn't reject the plan and nods in your direction.

"Let's do it."

You both walk back to the beach, where you don't stray far from the pier actually, and he leads you to a section where his family has firewood, so you both start carrying it to the shore to make the bonfire.

And actually, for a few moments, neither of you talk about anything. It's just both of you being in each other's company, not at all awkward and not at all weird.

Then you look further out, specifically in the direction of Sunset's Pier. It's not like this upscale section of Crown's is too far from the downtown pier, as you can see the decorative lights and people moving around from here.

"You know about the party going on right now at Sunset's Pier?" you decide to ask Aemond, as the two of you finish stacking all the firewood at the specific spot.

He shakes his hands and squats down as you take a seat on a trunk, then look out at the pier and all those people in the distance.

"Yeah," he replies in a soft tone, "My brother was trying to convince me all day to go with him and his friends," he says and then pulls out his lighter.

"My cousin too," you say, watching as he begins to light a section on fire, then watching him slightly confused, "Why didn't you want to go with him?"

He seems to think about it for a moment as the fire begins to spread all over the kindling, then looks at you with a soft gaze.

"I wanted to come here."

You watch him back for a few seconds without saying anything, and then he turns his gaze back to the fire, while you have the bag of marshmallows ready to open it in your lap.

“And you, why didn't you want to go with your cousin?” he decides to ask you too.

“Hum…” you shake your head as you take the sticks to roast the marshmallows and start preparing them, “I didn't feel like it. Besides… working at the restaurant already sucks enough energy out of me.”

Oh no.

You didn't want to talk about what happened at the restaurant and yet you brought up the subject. Mostly because you feel embarrassed and you don't even know why.

And he lets out a slight sound, a small nod of understanding as he watches the fire, his gaze getting lost in the flames.

“That was weird, huh?”

You watch him without saying anything for a few seconds, frowning slightly at him and thinking about it, since you don't know exactly what he's referring to, but he speaks again.

“Pretending not to know you,” he explains and your gaze softens, ”It was weird after last night.”

You look away from him for a moment as the wind gently blows your hair and the breeze hits your whole face.

“Yeah,” you admit, ‘It was a little weird,’ you say as you hold out his stick with the marshmallow, ”I didn't think you'd show up there, to be honest.”

He takes the stick and gets up to take a seat next to you on the trunk once the bonfire is finally fully lit.

“I didn't think you'd work there either,” he says and along with you, places the marshmallow on the fire, "I even wanted to say hi to you but…" he shrugs as you listen carefully, ”I don't know, maybe it would have been weird or something.”

You nod, as you both wait for the marshmallow to be ready.

“Yeah, I get it.”

The bonfire crackles, with the sound of the ocean enveloping you, and you both stand for a moment in silence, enjoying the marshmallows and the simple company of each other.

You enjoy his company and he enjoys yours, especially since with you he doesn't have to talk about anything specific. And everything is just quieter and simpler… just the way he prefers it.

So you both stay there, in this quiet corner by the seashore, it couldn't be more perfect and necessary, with the distant and barely audible echo of the music and the party on the pier.

When he breaks the silence again, watching you curiously.

“What's it like working at the restaurant?”

“Oh,” you think about it for a moment, not expecting that question but having no problem answering, "Well, do you want the short version or the long version?" you joke.

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips.

“Either is fine.”

“It's just that let's just say that if it weren't for the need to save and buy my own things, I would have quit a long time ago.”

You explain, making yourself comfortable and he listens attentively beside you.

“My boss, Mr. Frey is… hum…” you also think about it for a moment, “Well, there's no other way to put it but he's a dick. I have to put up with his poor treatment without complaining and watch as he always makes sure everyone knows he's in control.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” he says wryly and you smile.

“Yes, he is, believe me,” you reply sarcastically, “But you know… sometimes there's no choice but to bear it out of necessity.”

You know…

Aemond blinks and your words are left bouncing around in his mind.

No. The truth is, he doesn't. He's never had the need to work.Because while you face the demands of a despot boss, he lives in a world of privilege and comfort, used to people doing everything for him.

But somehow he understands what you mean. The two may have different lifestyles but you both understand each other.

You both watch the flames in silence, in a comfortable silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the sound of the waves, just as the mingled smell of burnt marshmallows reaches your nostrils along with the salty air.

And then, suddenly, you have an idea.

You put on a small smile and that spark of spontaneity appears in your whole being, as well as that impulse, so you stand up and Aemond next to you looks at you curiously.

“Shall we go for a swim?” you ask casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world in the middle of the night.

“What?” he looks at you clearly bewildered.

“Come on,” you insist, giving him a playful smile, “Let's go swimming.”

He shakes his head, looking out at the ocean a few feet away from the two of you to look back at you.

“You want to go swimming right now in the ocean at night?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, ”I've done it before.”

“Don't you know how dangerous that is?”

“Oh come on, it's not a big deal and we won't go far,” you try to convince him.

“These are the only clothes I have,” he points to himself.

“Me too,” you say with a laugh as you start to take off your tennis shoes, determined, “Just leave them here, come on, it'll be fun.”

He looks at you as if you've just lost your mind, doubtful, but there's something about your enthusiasm that's contagious, something that invites him to leave his inhibitions behind.

And when he least expects it, you're already heading for the shore, stripping off your clothes. Then he finally sighs and stands up, taking off his shirt.

You laugh excitedly as he joins in and you leave your clothes on the sand, stepping into the ocean. The water is cold at first contact, but not too much. So you jump in in one motion, only to turn around and look at Aemond.

“Come on!” you encourage him.

“This is a bad idea!” he tells you from where he stands, stepping in with slow, cautious movements.

You laugh and encourage him again, moving your arms and hands, letting the salty water envelop you completely.

Then, as he sees you, slowly that wariness inside him fades and with more liberal movements, he moves to your side and you begin to splash him, laughing, causing him to let go and stop thinking for a moment.

He starts splashing you too and then you realize that it is such an out of place moment and so unlike anything you had imagined you could do with him, but at the same time it feels so natural and almost liberating.

And Aemond, he lets himself be carried by the waves, because even though the darkness of the ocean can be intimidating, he feels a kind of peace that he didn't expect to find here.

“See?” you observe him with a small smile, ”It's liberating.”

He floats on the water, gazing for a moment out beyond the ocean and then the Sunset's pier in the distance with a soft, thoughtful look.

“Yeah,” he says as if in a whisper, acknowledging that.

You hang suspended in the water, watching him for a moment, unable to help yourself.

The moonlight bathes his face, highlighting his features and his slightly damp silver hair. You also see how the muscles in his shoulders relax with each breath and the sensation of the water, also looking at his bare chest and his skin glowing from the light and the water, giving him a crystalline and totally captivating effect.

The silver chain he wears around his bare neck also catches your attention, shimmering slightly with every movement.

His eyes, his lips, his nose, his look…. in all of him there is something primal and irresistible that makes you can't stop looking at him and your thoughts begin to dissipate uncontrollably.

Then he looks back at you and you try to look unaffected, as if you don't have a lump in your throat and this feeling in your stomach, smiling softly in his direction and then looking around, trying to control your thoughts.

'He has a girlfriend, remember?'

Your mind tells you too.

'It's not a real relationship, though.'

Okay, maybe it was a bad idea to convince him to swim when the man looks like this.

He tells you to swim some more and you both let the salty water envelop your bodies, with the full, bright moon above, illuminating the surface and creating a silvery path stretching to the horizon.

You also watch the stars, twinkling above you both, creating a celestial spectacle.

The water begins to feel warm, like a gentle caress on your skin. And as you swim together, you can feel her skin brush against yours, both of you not straying far from each other.

Until again you both hover and your gaze meets his, both the moonlight bathing your face and his, creating shadows and contours that accentuate features.

“This is nice,” he tells you, in a low murmur.

“Yeah, I know.”

His eyes are still on you, beyond simple observation.

There's something else, an intensity you can't help but feel. Aemond is not the kind of person to leave his thoughts out in the open for all to see because he is reserved, cautious.

But now, he seems to be letting a part of himself be seen, as if for once he's lowering his defenses… being with you.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, interrupted only by the soft splashing you both make in the water and the murmur of the waves.

You allow yourself to lose yourself in the depth of his eyes, in that intense blue-gray. And you can't help but let your mind wander to the slight closeness of his body to yours.

The softness of his voice and the way he looks at you… it hypnotizes you and makes you think something might be.

When then, you jump unexpectedly and startled where you find yourself floating, looking down at the surface of the dark water as if you can see through it, breaking the magical moment.

“Oh no, no, wait, something touched my foot!” you exclaim in panic.

“What?” he quickly says to you, his face showing a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Ew! I don't know but it felt… gross,” you babble, shaking your legs in the water as if you can push away whatever it was that touched you.

“Hey, hey,” he says, moving closer to you, his voice low but comforting, ”Easy.”

“I think we should go back,” you look at the shore and then at him worriedly.

But Aemond doesn't look frightened or perturbed, just serene. And he moves even closer, his hand reaching for yours underwater.

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs, his voice soft but sure as his arm goes around your waist, pulling you to him, ”I've got you.”

The strength and security with which he holds you seems to anchor you to reality, and without hesitation, you instinctively place your feet around his torso and your arms around his neck as you cling to him, feeling his firm body hold you completely.

Aemond looks at you, his eyes serious but with a soft glow, as if the distance between you had never existed.

”I've got you,” he repeats, this time in a lower whisper, his breath caressing your cheek as his hands hold you firmly, but at the same time gently.

You watch him with parted lips, as the water continues to gently sway around you, but it's as if everything has stopped, except for the racing beat of your heart and the warmth of the touch of his skin against yours.

And just like that, whatever it was that scared you no longer matters to you anymore the moment the foreheads of the two of you brush and slowly draw closer together.

Now you're both breathing hard, but it's not from the effort of swimming, it's the closeness. And it shows in the gentle press of each other's foreheads, in the way the breaths mix in the night, in the way their lips are dangerously close.

Neither of the two of you knows exactly what it is that you're doing and why, but it's inevitable. Something in the air, the magic of the night, the intimacy of the moment… it all leads you to this point.

You watch his lips, desiring it, and Aemond watches yours too, and then you both look into each other's eyes again, so close.

And then it happens.

Slowly, almost as if both of you are afraid to break the charm of the moment, your lips connect with his. At first it is a soft touch, barely a touch, as if tasting the flavor of each other, but soon the softness transforms into something deeper, more urgent.

His arms around your waist pull you even closer to him, as you cling to his neck.

The kiss intensifies, your mouths meeting in a slow but passionate dance, as if you've both been waiting for this moment for a long time, without even knowing it.

The feel of his hands on your skin, the heat emanating from his body, makes everything else disappear. The moon is still shining above you, the stars are still twinkling in the sky, but now there is only this instant.

His lips move over yours with a tenderness you didn't expect, but also with a passion that takes your breath away.

The softness of his mouth against yours and the warmth of his hands firmly holding you, makes you place a hand on his cheek and tilt your head to kiss him more deeply.

But suddenly, a rumble echoes through the sky.

You jump slightly, the sound interrupting the moment abruptly, and both of you stop the kiss as you turn at the same time towards the sky, confused by the noise.

When then, a burst of multicolored lights floods the night sky, followed by another explosive sound. And you watch in wonder at the fireworks, illuminating the horizon with flashes of red, green, gold and all colors.

The sparkles reflect off the ocean, painting the water with brilliant traces of color, as the party on the Sunset's pier is in full bloom.

And you guess that Alysanne didn't mean a lamp show, but fireworks.

Aemond also watches the show in the sky, then watches you again, both of you closer than ever and surprised by what just happened, both the kiss and the fireworks.

You watch him back, too, still surprised, your lips still warm from the recent contact, your heart still pounding in your chest.

And for a few seconds, you both stay like that, just watching each other under the fireworks, your bodies still entwined in the water, while the colors continue to dance in the sky.

But then, without much thought, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you lean into him again, your lips finding his once more, unable to help yourself.

And he reciprocates with the same need and gentleness, the kiss being more determined and firmer.

His arms wrap tighter around you, and you feel him pull you to him, closing any space between you. The water sways gently around you, but neither of you notice. Only the kiss matters, the warmth and the connection that has been reignited.

The salty taste of the sea on your lips and the sensation of his breath mixing with yours make it all feel intensely real and at the same time, almost like a dream.

His lips move with yours in a slow, deep dance, as the fireworks continue to explode in the sky, their distant sound almost becoming a melody.

But it's as if all that show is just a backdrop for what's happening between the two of you, the two of you kissing… under the moon.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . WRIOTHESLEY — your boyfriend always had his own ways of teasing you whenever you’d visit him at work.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, cockwarming, a lot of teasing, office scenes! my first wrio thing ueueue ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i had to write something for him before i lost my mind ,, im going sooooso crazy over him <3

you were always so incredibly needy by the time you finally got to visit your boyfriend wriothesley in the fortress of meropide. unfortunately, he’d seemed to pick up on that — always figuring out new ways to tease you by the time you arrived, like he hadn’t been yearning for you just as much.

you’d barely been there a few hours and you’d already been palming at his muscles over his shirt, losing yourself in one of the many makeout sessions with the duke that seemed to take all of the air from your lungs. he was a daunting presence, all sharp edges and rough lines and exceeding the kind of dominance he holds over everything else in his life as he kisses you.

“wrio, i want you—please—“ is where wriothesley’s little game begins when he pulls away to give you a narrowed sort of look— crossing his arms over his chest as he hums to himself.

“mmm, in my administrative office space? what ever shall i do with you?” the tone of his voice is playful as he tries to bite back the whisper of a smirk on his features, his sharp eyes are on you and he’s already so consumed by the way your thighs rub together from where you’re sat on his desk.

“it’s been so long, i wanna feel you.” your voice trembles under the weight of your arousal as you blink up at wriothesley, sending him a terribly unfair, glassy look that makes him tilt his head down at you before he breathes out a laugh. oh, he’d devour you entirely— and he will, eventually.

“oh? is that so? well i might have a suggestion to fix that.”

you should’ve known what he meant by a suggestion, known that is was always going to be something amusing for him but oh so annoying for you. he’d led you into it, drowning you in kisses and languid touches when he’d coaxed you into his lap— sinking into you with the sweet promise of making you feel good after he’d finished his work— it was his office you were in after all. god—he was so annoying.

“well then, is this enough for you, hm?” wriothesley grits as he exhales deep against the shell of your ear. your chest is pressed tight against his and your thighs are spread so prettily over his own as you sit on his lap— soft walls wrapped around his heavy cock as you both rest on his desk chair.

he’s got one hand on your ass as he palms at the skin, the other flipping through the paperwork on his desk and he’s so glad you can’t see the way he does it without purpose, his only goal to last as long as possible with you around him— but it’s harder than he thought it would be.

“you didn’t even finish your tea.” his tone is smooth as he grumbles, giving your ass a particularly rough squeeze while he eyes the set of teacups at the other end of his desk— he’d even used the fancy kind to make you that cup. “i could always stop and make you another if you’d rather that.”

“n-no!” you squirm at that, you’re already so wound up tight— feeling his cock smooth along your sensitive walls and stretch you out so mercilessly. his teasing isn’t doing you any favours and you’d do anything for a little friction, all he’s offering you being a few shallow thrusts everytime he readjusts himself on his seat with a ‘oh i’m just getting comfortable is all.’ but you know him, you know it’s just an excuse for him to rock his hips into yours, pushing his cock even deeper into you just to hear you bite back a whimper of his name, a plea.

“wow, you’ve really been waiting for this, huh?” wriothesley tries again and you don’t even need to see his face to know he’s smirking just as he pulls your hips closer to his. there’s a lewd squelch between you both with how wet you are, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your sweet spots until you’re mumbling out a strangled sort of sound, and you feel something burn in your abdomen as you all but drip down his heavy shaft.

“mmhm, that’s a real shame. bet you’re regretting being impatient now.” he truly was relentless,

“wrio! just move already, come on!”

“oh no, you insisted you’d let me work like this. all i’m asking for is a minute to finish my work and my tea, ‘s all. you can handle that, right?”

oh but despite his teasing you feel like silk around him, making his fingers twitch and grip at the edge of his desk as he tries so hard to focus on his documents in front of him. he wants nothing more than to have you over the table, walls trembling around him as you cum but he’d started this little game — he can’t give in too quickly.

“well can you hurry up, n-need you to move!”

“yeah, well .. maybe if you stopped moving so much i’d be done a little faster.” wriothesley grumbles playfully, pulling back to shoot you a look before he’s placing a few ticklish, open mouthed kisses along your jawline.

you can only glare cutely at him in response, not trusting the sound of your own voice when you’re so full— but you still manage to tighten your walls around him as a little playback. you watch his lips part at that before he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back a low growl but you still feel it rumble through his chest— he always liked when you teased him back, it made his games more fun.

“oh? good for you. that is wonderful~” wriothesley grunts with the praise but you can sense the sarcasm, goading as the muscles in his chest expand with a sudden, shaky exhale as he narrows his eyes up at you again— they’re darker now.

the sight alone has your pussy twitching, flexing around him and he hisses through his teeth at the sudden tightness before he thrusts abruptly into you in response. it makes you moan at the sudden friction he’s been so generous to give you— but makes you whimper even louder at the loss when he slows back to a stop before popping his neck to the side.

“quit teasing me! just fuck me, already!” wriothesley can’t deny the way your want—need for him has him like putty, making something burst and warm underneath his shirt when your fingertips graze their way beneath his collar, making him shudder when they trace so gently over his scars. he hums like he’s considering it, thinking it over before he’s placing a sloppy kiss against your neck and taking a ragged breath, then finally rolling his hips languidly into yours.

oh but it’s so fast the way he moves you, pushing you so quickly onto his desk that you squeeze around him from the movement alone. he lets himself curl over you this time, his cock throbbing when your thighs tremble around his hips and you’ve never been so thankful to feel the cold wood of his desk against your lower back and this man between your thighs.

wriothesley’s eyes are blown as they glance down between your bodies, so hypnotised by the way your folds spread for him before he almost crumbles with the first real bounce of his body against yours. his palms reach to squeeze at your hips, pulling back until only the tip of his cock is resting inside of you before he’s sinking back down, and the way your pussy coaxes him back in is filthy with the wet, clapping connection of his hips with yours.

“aren’t you eager? seems i win this round. you gonna give me a prize?”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[shadowkoo]

love me softly

→ Summary: When your long-distance boyfriend's visit falls through, you decide to make the most of your free time. But after a day out, you're in for an unexpected surprise when you get home.

↠ taeyong x f.reader | 1.9k words | 18+ ↠ genre: angst, fluff, smut, established relationship, idol au, long distance au

→ Warnings: lots of pet names, a touch of sad vibes in the beginning but that turns around pretty quickly, the sweetest softest smut i’ve written in a while, praise kink, the lightest hair pulling idk if it really counts lol, body worship (yong really really love his girl okay), creampie, unprotected & explicit sex, if i’m missing any lemme know

→ Networks: @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

→ Author Note: happy october :) this is just a lil shortie oneshot (which was supposed to be a drabble skldjfa;lksdfj) to get me back on writing track, i’ve got a big spooky fic coming in the next few weeks!! divider credit

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Taeyong mumbles through his phone. “It’s taking us longer to film than we anticipated, so I’m gonna be delayed another day at least.”

Your boyfriend had initially set aside time in his very busy schedule to come visit you after he finished filming his newest music video in LA; which should’ve wrapped up a few days ago. Since you live on opposite sides of the world, he wanted to take advantage of being only a few states apart instead continents apart. You’re just a quick three hour flight away and he’s been thinking about seeing you ever since he planned this break in his schedule.

Except his plans keep changing; first it was production problems and now it’s the weather. They just can’t catch a break. And all of this is cutting into the time he is supposed to spend with you.

“Is it even worth visiting now? We’ll only have a day or two left from the week we planned together."

Taeyong’s brows furrow, “It’s worth it to me, you’re worth it. I know it’s not ideal, baby, but I miss you so much. Even if we only have a couple of hours together, I’ll still come to you when this is finished.”

Hearing the film crew calling his name through the phone, you sigh, letting the welled up tears fall down your cheeks. They’re ready to start filming the next scene and he has to go, again. You won’t be seeing him today, again.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I have to get back on set. I’ll text you later, okay?” Taeyong’s heart rips into pieces when he hears you sniffle.

“Okay, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He hangs up and takes a couple of deep breathes, blinking back his own tears. He hates when you’re hurt, especially when it’s his fault. Taeyong lets out a puff of air, time to pull it together. The faster he perfects this scene and those to follow, the faster he can be on his way to you.

It’s the next day, and you wake up with swollen eyes from crying all night. You push back the blankets and force yourself to get up. Sitting at home and being sad all day won’t do you any good.

You know that it’s not Taeyong’s fault he keeps getting delayed, everything that’s happened has just been an unfortunate string of events. You’ll admit that going to see him had crossed your mind last night, but then you thought better of it.

Girlfriends at work can cause problems, you don’t want to distract him or be in the way of the crew. Plus, you two haven’t fully gone public with your relationship yet. His management team has been informed for a while now, and other NCT member’s know too.

But the millions of fans? That’s a daunting step that you two haven’t taken yet. You’re not necessarily hiding your relationship, but you’re not flaunting it out in front of the world either.

As you get dressed, you shoot a quick text to your friend Fia to confirm your plans for coffee and a trip to the bookstore. Running on little sleep, you're in serious need of caffeine, and you've been eagerly waiting for your favorite author’s new book to drop.

She replies almost instantly, saying she’s in and excited to see you. You skip your usual makeup routine and throw your hair into a loose ponytail before heading out the door.

Stepping outside onto the leaf-littered sidewalk, you can’t help but smile—it’s finally October, your favorite time of year. The air feels crisp, and everything has that warm, cozy vibe that you love, from now until the end of the year. It’s the perfect season for coffee dates, soft sweaters, and losing yourself in a good book.

Fia is saving you a window seat inside her favorite cafe, “Hi! It’s been too long, I got you an Iced Pumpkin Chai.” She cheerfully hands you the drink, “So, how have you been? I thought Taeyong would be coming with you?”

“Ahh, right,” you say, before taking your first sip. “He’s stuck in LA unfortunately, but I still wanted to catch up you.”

“Oh no, that’s a bummer,” she says, resting a hand on your arm. “How are you handling it?”

“Better than last time, but it’s still not fun.”

“I bet, well if you get lonely you’re always welcome to come stay with me. I don’t think James will mind.” James is Fia’s elderly cat, who takes his naps on the windowsill quite seriously. He’s to sleepy to care when Fia has visitors, as you’ve witnessed.

“I might take you up on that offer.”

Meeting up with Fia completely turned your day around. The two of you sipped coffee, chatted about your latest reads, and vented about the upcoming book-to-movie adaptations that are sure to fall short. Then, you made your way to the bookstore, continuing the conversation.

After each grabbing a few books, Fia convinces you to go thrift shopping with her next. By the time you finally make it home, your arms are loaded with the day’s haul.

You set down the bags so you can punch in your door key code, letting yourself in. The afternoon sunlight shines through your windows, illuminating the beautiful bouquet of marigolds on your table with a warm glow.

‘Hmm, that’s weird,’ you think to yourself as you set the bags down next to them, ‘Did I buy these earlier this week and forget about them? That would be just like me with everything that’s been on my mind.’

You think nothing of it and head to your bedroom, ready to change into comfier clothes for the rest of the night. Earlier, on the walk home you decided you’d spend the rest of your night by making your favorite soup for dinner, and then settling in for a Halloweentown movie marathon.

Just inside your bedroom door, you see a hoodie drapped over a suitcase. Your heart swells as your eyes drift over to the bed, where your boyfriend is peacefully sleeping. Not wanting to wake him, you change quietly and climb into bed and wrap yourself around him, you need to make sure this is real and not a figment of your imagination.

He rolls over and envelops you in his arms, kissing you softly. “Mmm, I was wondering when you’d get back.”

It’s really him.

“How are you here right now?” you ask, pulling back to scan his face.

“We finished filming late last night. Well technically this morning around 3am, and I got on the first available flight.”

“How long have you been here?” you ask next.

“Not long, just enough for me to change out of airport clothes and climb in bed,” he chuckles, pulling you back in for another sweet kiss. His lips gently press against yours and a hand reached around to the back of your head, letting down your hair so his fingers could run through the loose strands.

Taeyong tugs your hair with the lightest touch, but enough for you to let out a soft gasp. He uses the opportunity to push his tongue in past your parted lips.

Your hands rub up his solid chest, and you moan into his mouth as his kisses get a little more rough, a little more desperate.

“Did you like your flowers?” he asks when your lips are just barely touching.

“They’re beautiful,” you giggle, “I couldn’t figure out where they came from. I thought I might have gone crazy.”

“I saw them at the market just down the street and they reminded me of how radiant you always are.” His eyes gaze into yours and you can see that he really means that. Your heart melts.

“Ugh, I missed you,” you murmur before pulling him in for another long kiss, only separating when you need air.

He admires how swollen and wet your lips are while he hovers over you, looking down with desire-filled eyes.

“I missed you so much. I missed kissing you. I missed the way you taste. The way you mewl when I touch you right here,” he whispers, his hand slipping in between your legs, sliding them under your panties until his fingers find their way home.

Tossing your head back into the pillows, you squeeze your eyes shut as one finger, and then two, dip inside your slick heat.

“God, so wet already.” His fingers pump into you again and they curl at the right moment, lighting your body on fire. He keeps a leisurely pace, wanting to savor every second of this. He can take you from behind later. Right now he wants to prove how much he missed you. How much he loves you.

“Mmm, yes,” you moan, having longed for this so much over the past few months. He knows you so well, your body is so in tune with his. “Let me touch you too,” you breath as your fingers find his waistband. You stroke his growing length. Feeling the weight of him in your palm has always makes your mouth water for what is to come.

Rough Taeyong is devilishly hot, but soft and sensual Taeyong is a whole other breed of demon. He’ll worship you until you’re a dripping mess.

He watches intently as your eyes flutter shut, knowing very well that you’re close. He strategically presses his thumb up against your aching clit, rubbing in dangerous circles until he feels your walls start to tense. “Come for me, babe. Come all over my fingers like the good girl I know you are.”

His words are enough to send you over the edge. He swallows your loud moans while you clench around his fingers, coming beautifully undone and writhing underneath him.

Taeyong lets you ride out the waves, completely captivated by how ethereal you look in that moment. “You’re a goddess,” he breathes, bending down to meet your mouth once again. He pulls back, only to remove your clothing before removing his own.

“Love me, ‘Yongie,” you beg, needing to feel him inside you, just needing him.

“Always.” He moves a hand to cup your cheek while he slowly sinks into your wet slit. No matter how many times he’s with you, he’ll never get over how perfect you are. He bites back a moan when he hits your cervix. A perfect fucking fit, every single time.

He moves with a pace so slow it feels like divine torture. “I’ll never get tired of this,” he groans, pulling out until just his tip is held between your folds, then rolling his hips back inward.

“OH my god,” you moan, your nails digging into his bare back, “You feel so good.”

Taeyong nestles his head into your neck, bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.

“I’m close, baby, so close,” you whine. “Come in me,” you beg, pleading for him to release into you. 

Taeyong hisses, his movements becoming more jerky. “I love you,” he groans as the coil snaps inside you. Waves of pleasure wash over your body, the sparks tingling through your veins. He follows your suit, tensing as your inner walls writhe around his length, milking him of his creamy seed.

He collapses next to you, whispering I love you’s into your ear as you both catch your breath.

“So,” you begin once you finally remember how to speak, “Wanna help me make dinner?”

“In a bit,” he sighs, pulling your limp body on top of his to kiss you lazily, “I’m not done loving you yet.”

→ Taglist: @beomcoups @mar-lo @starsrens (join here)

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[astrophileous]

hi! is there any chance you could write a scenario for spencer with a plus sized reader? love your writing! congrats on the milestone and happy birthday month 💕

tyyy so much anon 🥺❤️ I hope you're happy with how this turned out 💞

Warning(s): fem!plus-sized!reader; I legit think there's no warning for this. not even swearing. but pls lmk???

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer looked down when he felt you shuffle against him. "Cold?"

The two of you were lounging on the couch with Spencer sitting on one of its end and your head leaning on his chest. Your legs were curled up on the cushion underneath a tiny blanket, the flimsy material barely doing anything as you pressed yourself even closer towards your boyfriend, trying to chase the warmth from his body heat to combat the chill running down your spine. Spencer noticed what you were trying to do and instantly tugged at the other blanket on his lap, laying the material gently around you and smiling when he heard you sigh in appreciation.

"What about you, Spence?"

"I'll be fine. I run hot."

"Mmh. Can't argue with that."

Spencer squeezed your thigh in response to your cheeky remark, your whole body shaking in laughter before you focused your attention back on the TV screen ahead.

It was a rarity for Spencer to find himself home safely at 8 o'clock on a Friday night, not to mention to have you home at the same time as him instead of at the ER tending to patients. On nights like this, Spencer made sure to always cherish the time with you in whatever way you liked, even if it meant he had to sit through nearly five hours of a Hallmark movie marathon after stuffing his stomach full with greasy Chinese takeouts.

The man was head over heels in love with you, and he would do just about anything to keep that mesmerizing smile permanently on your face.

"That's adorable," you said breathlessly after a few minutes of silence.

Spencer didn't want to admit that he had just spent the last ten minutes getting absolutely gobsmacked by your beauty, so he quickly tore his gaze away and directed it back towards the TV screen. His confusion only tripled in size when he saw that nothing particularly stood out from the scene. It was just another shot of the two main characters having yet another one of their silly little arguments as a cheesy jingle played in the background.

"What is happening?" Spencer asked at last.

You glanced at his question and scoffed. "You weren't paying attention again, were you?"

Spencer had the audacity to grin, and it was pretty lucky of him to have been blessed with such a pretty face that could melt even the hardest ice around your heart.

"Okay, handsome. Listen carefully. So, what happened is, the girl—"

"Bess?"

"Yes, Bess. Well, she and Aidan decided to meet for lunch to talk about the deed to the land, right? But that talk didn't really lead anywhere as they ended up fighting, again, and Bess walked away from the restaurant. Aidan ran after her and they fought again on the sidewalk, but then they got interrupted by the rain."

"Of course. The rain. How original."

You hid your bemused smile before continuing, "The two of them ran for cover in this little bookstore after that. Bess was shivering because she was wearing this little black thing, and Aidan noticed. So like the gentleman he is, he took off his suit jacket and gave it to Bess. They both ended up spending a couple of hours in that little bookstore waiting for the rain to stop, and Bess wore Aidan's jacket for the rest of the day. She didn't notice she still had it until she went home in the evening."

Spencer nodded along as he waited for your recount to finish, expecting to find clarity by the end of it only to be met with an even bigger confusion than before.

"I still don't get it. You thought that it was adorable that... they got caught in the rain?"

"And they call you a genius?" you teased, shrieking when Spencer lunged forward to tickle your sides. "No, silly. Not the rain. The jacket."

"The jacket?"

"Yeah. I think it's nice." You smiled, your eyes crinkling as you turned back towards the TV. "I've always loved that. When the guy gives something of his for the girl to wear. His T-shirt, his jacket, his sweater. Anything. The girl would wear his clothes and they'd usually look too big on her and it all just feels so... domestic. There's a sense of belonging in the gesture itself, sort of a non-verbal way of him claiming the girl as his. A little territorial, perhaps. But I personally find the whole thing adorable."

After he was done hearing your explanation, Spencer found himself at loss for words. "I didn't know that. That's actually a thing?"

"It's a pretty common trope in romance books and movies. One of my favorites, too."

"And you like that? Having your boyfriend lend you his clothes to wear?"

"Well, I don't know. I, uh, I actually never tried it myself." You suddenly grew bashful as you started playing with the hem of your pajamas top. "Everyone I've dated has always been smaller than me, so I never got the chance to experience any of that."

"Sweetheart—"

"Relax, Spencer. It's fine," you assured him. "I'm not sad about it. Do I feel like missing out sometimes? Yes, maybe, but it's not like it's the end of the world. I'll survive just fine. Promise."

You resumed watching the rest of the movie after that, the short conversation being shoved to the back of your mind as you relished in the final scene of the movie where the guy, finally and inevitably, managed to win over the girl with an arduous chase through the airport concluded by a romantic confession in front of gate 4E.

After movie night on Friday, the following week unraveled in a hectic frenzy for you. The ER where you worked saw a full house nearly every single night, forcing you to take not only one, not two, but three extra shifts in a single week. By the time the next Friday rolled around, you were exhausted beyond belief, collapsing face first into bed as soon as you arrived home without even waiting for Spencer to get back from his week-long case in Idaho.

The following morning, you woke up to a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. You followed the scent in your sleepy haze until you came face to face with your boyfriend standing behind the stove, unruly curls and a handsome smile as he glanced up at the sound of your footsteps. You couldn't even imagine how dishelved you looked in that moment—with dried drool around your lips and pillow imprints on your cheek—but the way Spencer assessed you from the distance, it made you feel as though you were meant to be sculpted as a flawless copy of Aphrodite herself.

"Good morning, gorgeous," your boyfriend greeted as he pushed a plate of pancakes across the counter. "Breakfast?"

The two of you spent the entirety of breakfast telling each other about your respective week while enjoying Spencer's pancakes that, surprisingly, tasted even better than they smelled. After the dishes were washed, Spencer grabbed your hand and started leading you back towards your shared bedroom.

"Come with me for a moment. I wanna show you something," he said.

You trailed after Spencer in curiosity, compliantly fulfilling his order to sit on the bed as he vanished into the ensuite. Three minutes later, Spencer reappeared in front of you, donning a grin so enormous that it nearly distracted you from the foreign pair of clothes he had changed himself into.

"What do you think?" Spencer asked enthusiastically.

"What do I think?"

"Yeah!"

"It's cute, Spencer. Is it new?" Spencer nodded eagerly, confirming your suspicion. "I see. It's kinda... too big for you, don't you think?"

The hoodie Spencer was wearing came in your favorite color, but it hung on his lanky frame almost like a poncho. Spencer still looked good in it, though. You admired his talent to still appear attractive even when he was wearing something that didn't fit him properly.

"I picked out a bigger size on purpose," Spencer revealed, taking off the hoodie before extending it towards you. "Here, try it. I went two sizes above your usual so it should feel roomy."

Your perplexed stare zeroed in on the clothing in Spencer's hand. "Wait. I don't understand. Did you buy this for me?"

"Um, no? Well, technically yes." Spencer rubbed his neck, suddenly turning sheepish as his gaze found your eyes. "Remember last week when you told me about girls borrowing their boyfriends' clothes? And how you never got to experience that? Well, I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I went ahead and ordered this hoodie for myself but in a larger size. That way, you can steal it from me from time to time. Have something of mine you can wear when you want to."

Silence descended into the room in the wake of Spencer's declaration.

His heart was a sonorous thumping inside his chest. Spencer waited for you to say something, but your voice never came. It wasn't until the first sob broke through the quietude did Spencer realize that you were actually crying.

"Sweetheart? Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?"

The man knelt in front of you in no time, his palm clenching at the side as if he was ready to go into battle to fight whatever or whoever caused the shed tears in your eyes. You lifted your head just enough to see him, smiling shakily when you saw the taut lines above the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe you bought this hoodie for me," you muttered once your sobs had subsided.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's why you cried? Because I bought you a hoodie?"

"It's not just because of a hoodie, Spence. It's the fact that you cared. You listened to my silly thoughts and you remembered." You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling him melt against the touch. "This is the nicest, most considerate thing anyone has ever done for me."

"That just breaks my heart, gorgeous. You deserve so much more. I'm literally doing the bare minimum."

"No, you're not. You're doing so much. You're doing everything, Spencer."

You kissed him, then. Urgently and vehemently; trying to convey just how intensely your heart felt for him. When you pulled away, Spencer was wearing a big smile undoubtedly identical to your own.

"I love you so much, Spencer. You know that, right?"

Spencer's smile blossomed. In his heart, he sketched the way your face looked in that moment to burn your beauty into the depth of his mind.

"Not as much as I love you, sweetheart."

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hi ! m a little shy so sorry for talking in anon 😊I was wondering, after I saw you opend reneé request. If you would want to write about ReneéReader (fem, obviously)where Reneé ADHD and anxiety are a little too much and Reader comforts then

Swirling Thoughts ||

|| Renée Rapp x fem!reader

|| Warnings: reader & Renée getting drunk, Renée struggling with anxiety, first time writing for Renée, short drabble (no part 2), light swearing, slight homophobia

|| Summary: Renée's meeting reader's parents for the first time, safe to say she's nervous as shit. Reader helps her through it.

Requests open!

Started: May 12th

Finished: May 13th

~~~

You and Renée have been together for a few months now, the public didn't know and neither did either of your parents. You had kept your relationship pretty secretive. Knowing the kind of chaos that could come with revealing it. You had kept it so secret that no one even knew the two of you were associated with each other until you were ready for them to know.

You were famous for your own works, such as the various shows you'd acted in and the two songs you had released. Music wasn't your main focus, but after a single scene of you singing for a show aired... people begged for more. For you it was more of an extra cash grab that accidentally went more viral than you planned for; which was how you had caught the attention of Renée Rapp.

The two of you were currently laid entangled with each other on the couch, watching a movie in your apartment. Renée had suggested watching one of your older movies and every time you appeared on screen, the two of you would take a shot. So that's what you'd been doing for the last hour an a half.

By this point, you were drunkenly giggling. Head on Renée's shoulder as you looked into her eyes. She wasn't quite as drunk as you, but she was definitely there.

"What, baby?" She asked in a soft tone when she noticed your eyes on hers.

"Nothing~ you're just really pretty." You whispered, a faint pink hue formed on her cheeks when she heard you. She'd never get tired of hearing you compliment her.

"Mm? If I'm pretty what does that make you?" Renée flirts back, hand coming up to your cheek and giving it a gentle rub.

You simply shrugged at her question, not finding an answer to it which made Renée raise an eyebrow.

"Baby, you're fucking stunning." She tells you, now you were the one blushing. Then a thought came across your mind, you wanted to know what she would think of it but you didn't know if you guys were at that stage yet.

She noticed you were in thought but waited to see if you would continue it on your own. When you didn't she gave you a playful nudge, pulling you closer into her arms," What're you thinking about?"

You hesitate, taking another drink despite the fact that your character hadn't been on screen. Leading Renée to realize this was definitely a more serious conversation.

"Do you think we're ready to meet each other's parents?" You asked, you could see Renée's breath hitch as she also took another drink.

"Hell yeah, let's do it." She gives your shoulder a squeeze, though it was the alcohol confidence that lead her to agree.

You guys spent the rest of the night discussing it, talking about the dates for meeting everyone and how you would go about it. You made sure to write everything down in your notes app; not wanting to forget the conversation in the morning.

You and Renée had come to the decision that this coming Sunday, the two of you would have dinner at your parents house. You texted your mom about it, being slightly vague with who exactly you were bringing over but letting her know it was your girlfriend. She was on edge about it. Your parents knew you were gay, your mom took it better than your dad but she still had her complaints.

Mom: Girlfriend?? You're dating again? Honey, you should've told me! There's a nice man that moved in next door.

Your mom texted, you sighed deeply as you read the text. Sunday night was definitely going to be... interesting. To say the least.

You: No mom, I'm happy in my current relationship. Thank you, though.

You weren't going to be rude about it, she was your mother after all. So you let it slide and hoped it would be just the one time comment.

While you were dealing with all of this, Renée was in the kitchen. Pacing back and forth as she fidgeted with her rings. She had gotten in her head and was overthinking everything. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed. Maybe they should wait longer. Was she ready for this?

Her eyes flicked to yours when she saw your figure step into the kitchen doorway. Your expression soft as you walked over, pulling Renée into your arms to slow her pacing. "What's wrong?" You could tell Renée was overthinking, you knew her well enough by now to be able to catch all the little signs.

"I..." Renée paused, taking a breath and allowing herself to melt further into your arms. You gave her side a soft squeeze as you felt her do this," I don't know if I'm ready."

You frowned slightly, having thought that might have been the case." I get it, baby. I'm scared too. How about this.." You quickly came up with a compromise, Renée's eyes on yours as she listened to you," We wait and see how the rest of this week goes. Then make a finale decision Saturday night, if you're not up for it you're not up for it and that's okay."

You could feel her shoulders relax as she gave a gentle nod. Yeah, okay. That sounded fine. She would at least still be making an effort as opposed to quitting as soon as possible.

"Yeah... okay." Renée replied, you gave her forehead a soft kiss and kept her close in your arms. Hoping you at least eased her mind a little.

And you had, she was grateful for you.

[magicians-abode]

Hi lovely! This is my first request to ever make!

If you would not mind, could you write a fic about Chillchuck Tims (from dungeon meshi) and a female half foot reader? Like in episode 17 when Falin wreak havoc in her new form and Chill drags Mickbell under Senshis pan to hide. But instead of Mickbell its the reader and perhaps something about trying to comfort and protect eachother in all those minutes that they cant see what is going on with the fight outside the dome? And because they have feelings for eachother and the reader knows about his stance towards no relationships in the group, so its a little akward to be stuck that close, but Chillchuck is also a little frantic because he thought he was gonna loose the reader in front of his eyes, if they got under the pan a few seconds too late

Thank you so much if it is possible ❤️

Hello lovely anon! I'm so sorry your request took so long for me to write, I had started it almost as soon as I saw it but then my inspiration just slipped away and just now was I able to finally finish writing it. I hope this is to your liking! Please forgive me for taking so long dear

"Safe in your arms"

[Chilchuck Tims x female!half-foot!reader]

Warnings: none - fluff - reader has female pronouns - a few swear words

That couldn't have been her, right? That couldn't be Falin, she'd never hurt a soul. What had happened? What had gone so wrong? She was a normal tall-man when Marcille managed to build her up again from her skeleton and some of the dragon blood... Wait. Dragon blood. Was Falin half dragon now?

(y/n) was too caught up looking up towards the beast that appeared to be Falin right now when she felt hands tug at her arms.— come on don't just stand there, we gotta hide!— Chilchuck's voice broke her from her trance, making her look around as everyone got ready for a fight and he dragged her far away from the scene. She looked at him, a panicked expression plastered on his face. It was understandable, if she had a mirror in front of her right now, she'd probably have the same look on her face.

Somehow, in the panic of the moment, Chilchuck had managed to lift up the pan that Senshi used to cook their meals in everytime and placed it over them like a dome as he layed back, hitting the debris of what was once part of the wall. Tugging (y/n) closer, Chilchuck wraps an arm around her waist and with the other, buries her head on the crook of his neck. They're both panting, not so much from the action of running to hide, but more so from the panic. They couldn't see what was going on outside, only being able to hear a few screams or grunts as Kabru's, Shuro's and Laios's party fought against what once was Falin.

(y/n) felt her body tremble and she held onto Chilchuck's shirt. His grip around her was tight, and it seemed like it would stay that way until he knew they were safe and could step outside from under the cooking pan.— Chilchuck...?— she was surprised when she heard her own voice shake as she spoke, and so was he.

The hand that he'd placed on her head began to run his fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her.— It's okay, you don't have to be scared, we'll be safe here...— or so he hoped. He sounded determined, confident and okay, but deep inside, his heart was beating a mile an hour, and his head was filled with a million possible outcomes for the situation they were suddenly in.— Are you hurt? You should've reacted sooner! What if the chimera had stepped on you?! What if everyone accidentally kicked you around because you were in the way?! You could've gotten seriously hurt!— his tone was hushed, scared and anxious as it trembled with worry.

She lifted her head from his shoulder to try to look at him. The only light that came from outside where everyone was fighting, sneaked very subtly under the dome that shielded them, not really managing to illuminate too much. But it was probably for the best, because she knew that if he were able to see her face, she'd probably have at least a faint blush on her cheeks, and she didn't want that to happen. Only now she realized how... intimately Chilchuck held her against his own body. He was skinny, very skinny, and her arms instinctively moved to wrap around his torso, nuzzling closer towards him. Was it for comfort? Or was it because she wanted to bask in what would probably be the only chance she would have to be this close to the half-foot? He had always been so strict with all those "inner party relationship" rules of his, it wouldn't surprise her if after the situation outside died down, he'd just huff and pretend like he hadn't been worried about her in the slightest.

The noises outside grew louder and the earth shook as Falin climbed her way up a building and took flight to run away after getting hurt by almost everyone. Under the dome and in their own world, the two half-foot's hugged each other closely, not having a clue about what the hell was happening outside.— Shit, it's okay, it's okay...— Chilchuck whispered in her ear, not only to her but to himself as well.— I've got you, just stay with me (y/n), I'm not letting you get hurt— his reassurances made her heart pump faster than it already was, her feelings toward him only growing stronger. Was there a chance he felt the same? Or did his words sound awfully sweet and romantic because of their panic?

Chilchuck's mind was in turmoil. He was holding the woman he cared for deeply in his arms, and even if he felt afraid, he wanted nothing more than to protect her, to reassure her that everything would be okay and end soon enough even if he had no idea if that was true at all. Her arms were wrapped around his torso and her hands balled into fists as she held onto his clothes, her head nestled on the crook of his neck, their bodies huddled close together. The racket outside subsided, and after waiting for a minute or two just to be safe, Chilchuck finally moved the pan away from over them and he looked around to the disaster that had occurred while they hid.

(y/n) slowly looked around as well, and they soon stood up, dusting their clothes off from some of the debris they'd been laying on.— What... happened? God are they dead?— she mumbled to herself.

Chilchuck stepped closer again, and now held her face with both of his hands. He gently brushed away some dirt from her face and with a worried expression, began fussing over her.— You gave me a heart attack back there! Look at me, I can't believe what would've happened if I hadn't dragged you away! You–...— his brown eyes filled with tears and he looked away, trying not to cry— Dammit, do you understand how... awful it would've made me feel if I hadn't reached you in time?!— he wasn't yelling, he wasn't angry, he was scared, maybe frustrated as well, the shock of the moment still wearing off slowly.— Even if you get revived by Marcille or anyone else, I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt... much less seeing it happen right in front of my eyes and being uncapable of doing something about it...— Chilchuck pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her waist, now he was the one burying his head on the crook of her neck.

—I'm sorry, I was just frozen in place, I...— (y/n) could feel him shake as he held her, and she wrapped her arms around him as well, trying to provide some type of comfort for him too.— I'm glad you were there to save me, Chilchuck... you were so strong back there...— she whispered, and the male half-foot chuckled, it was almost funny how she made him want to break his own rules about love.

—Never, ever, scare me like that again— he pulled away slightly, looking into her eyes with tender frustration.

(y/n) smiled gently, running a hand through his now messed up hair— I promise you, my hero— she whispered back, and the tension seemed to finally evaporate from his whole body. They held each other closely for a while longer, relishing on each other's presence and feeling happy to be alive and okay after such a tormenting experience. The rest of the party could wait, he needed to make sure you would stay with him and be safe.

[whyareyouhere66]

I feel like it’s been forever since a new Harry Potter fic was written, so I’m here to request(if u feel like writing it ofc<3)!

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Male!reader where reader likes to admire him from the background, but word gets out that they have a crush on him. Reader gets picked on for it because “why would Draco Malfoy of all people go for a Hufflepuff boy?”. U can choose what direction it goes in 👀 (unless you want me be more direct then I can add on to it!)

Yes! I’m here for it- hope you enjoy <3

Also, prefacing this by saying I don’t at all like Rowling or support her bullshit, this is just a cute request id like to do

CW: teasing directed towards reader, reader is like half an inch shorter than Draco (something like that, just for context) unedited (I’ll do it soon I promise) and makeout scene (spoilersssss uh oh)

x

Sound booms across the length of the long walls, the bustling Great Hall full of kids across grades eating their meals. Chicken, mashed potatoes, loafs spread out in baskets, it’s like a thanksgiving meal.

The sun, high in the sky, shines through the tall windows and creates a natural light to outshine the various floating candles. Down at one of the various tables, the Hufflepuff children sit at the wooden table and talk.

“I don’t think he understood the assignment, either.”

“He’s the one who wrote it!”

“Exactly the issue-“

Y/n, accompanied by F/n, sits across from another group at the decorated table. A yellow and black scarf sits loosely around his s/c shoulders, a few rings wrapped around his fingers. He takes another bite from his plate, listening to F/n and another student bicker quietly- the slightest pull of a smile rising on his lips. 

“You guys still talking about Snape?” He asks, eyeing the two. They both nod.

“He’s so grumpy all the time, Y/n,” F/n complains, jutting his chin towards the stone faced man across the room. Y/n chuckles and shakes his head.

“Snape always knows what he’s doing.” He says, planning to check out of the conversation when words of disagreement are thrown his way. 

Y/n moves to keep watching his friends- but his eyes flicker.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the platinum blonde hair his eyes always seem to catch. And suddenly, his friends’ words are but mush against his ears.

Draco sits at the Slytherin table, green banners hanging above his head just like the yellow ones above Y/n’s. 

He has a normal scowl, that would dull anyone else’s face if it weren’t his. As his friends continue to talk, though, his eyebrow lifts and a smooth smirk almost replaces it.

And oh, how pretty his lips are.

Y/n wishes he could hide the thoughts as they ring in his head, wishing his small smile wasn’t such a giveaway.

“Y/n? Did we lose you again?” The girl across the table asks, bangs falling into her face. Grace, is her name. 

“Yeah, you look distracted.” F/n snickers, nudging Y/n’s elbow because unlike the others, he knows exactly where his best friend’s gaze is lingering. 

Blood rushes to Y/n’s face, realizing how obvious he had been just now. 

“I’m fine.” He insists, elbowing F/n right back. The others shrug it off, not noticing how one last glance is shot towards Draco.

Lunch is closer to wrapping up when Y/n notices the time- 1:48. 

“Oh, wait-“ he looks over at F/n. “Man, we gotta go-“  

At this, the boy looks at the time and nods. They both grab their things, wishing goodbye to their friends- Ms. McGonagall would be expecting a finished project in the next hour. 

They weave through the students crowded  around tables, holding their bags close to their hips to take less room. Getting out early gets them more time, though their project was nearly done anyways Ms. McGonagall really talked this one up. 

Stepping out through the giant wooden doors, Y/n breathes out.

“Alright, you have the-“ his words are cut short when someone steps into his path. 

Looking up, he finds 3 people standing in front of him, having bumped into the first one. They’re all from Slytherin. 

“Sorry, didn’t see you.” He tries to step around them, but the boy in front recognizes him and suddenly seems very interested.

“Wait a minute,” he steps in front of Y/n again, “Y/n.” His name on this strange boy’s tongue doesn’t sound like a question, honestly it feels threatening. Y/n furrows his eyebrows, and steps back.

“Uh, yeah?” There’s an intimidating look in the Slytherin boy’s eye- one that not even his friends know the reason for. They, as well as F/n, watch curiously.

“Aren’t you that Hufflepuff that has a crush on Malfoy?”

What.

Y/n’s heart stops, his eyes widen. Who is this kid? 

“Huh?”

“Oh don’t think I haven’t seen anything,” confidence seems to build in the boys voice, the look on Y/n’s face coming as confirmation for his words. “You’re always making puppy eyes at him- oh, I so knew it!” 

The excitement in this boy’s voice is strange- was he betting on this? Does he not realize how creepy that feels?

“Wait, slow down,” one of the Slytherin’s step forward, wrapping her head around the news, “you like Malfoy? Really?”

Y/n doesn’t like the tone of her voice.

“A Hufflepuff? Liking Malfoy?” She scoffs, “oh please.”

Y/n feels too exposed, like he’s suddenly being poked and prodded from under a microscope. 

How had they found out? 

Who else knows? 

He looks at F/n, eyes screaming for help. Another minute here, when kids could walk around the corner at any moment, hear his secret slowly leaking from the safety of his own self, and he might explode.

“You guys are on something strong, aren’t you?” F/n swoops in, trying to play it off and Y/n makes a mental note to remind the boy how grateful he is for him in a moment.

“Quit projecting, will you? Pathetic, really.” F/n says, though avoids any eye contact with the three. He shoves Y/n’s shoulder, who stumbles, and leads him away as quickly as possible. 

By the time they get to the library, Y/n’s head is already swimming, mainly from embarrassment. 

He never wanted anyone to know- he still doesn’t want that. This little “crush” was supposed to stay between him and F/n, for that was the only person he ever trusted to carry it. 

But now? With some smug Slytherin boy walking around with his feelings cupped in the palm of his hand? Y/n’s lost his safety rail. Now, his feelings are vulnerable, ready to be spilled to Draco at any second. 

Two hands hold his shoulders firmly, he recognizes them as F/n’s. No surprise, considering there’s barely any one else in the library right now. Y/n’s eyes dart to meet his.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks, and it takes an extra moment for the e/c eyed boy to come up with an answer.

“I think so.” He says, nodding. F/n copies the gesture.

“Good, that’s good. I’m sure not that many people know, ok?” He reassures Y/n, who’s grateful for the words as they bring back some stability. 

“Right.” 

Now that he’s out of that boys uncomfortable gaze, he doesn’t feel as panicked as he did before. More so, unsettled. 

“Right, yeah, uh- let’s get back to the project.” With the nod of his head, and one last look, F/n is agreeing. The two boys sit down at one of the many tables, between two tall bookshelves. 

‘Maybe it’s ok,’ Y/n thinks to himself, ‘not that many people know.’

**

You realize now, that you spoke too soon.

The next day comes, and you’re now standing in the bathroom wasting away time that’s supposed to be spent in Snape’s potions class. It’s empty, aside from you of course, nothing but the sound of a running faucet. 

It’s so quiet that when the door creaks open, people stepping inside, your head snaps to the side, startled. 

It’s two boys, both from Gryffindor, named Avery and Jaxon and you immediately recognize them from a few classes. You turn back to the sink. 

Neither of them look at you, instead disappearing into two of the stalls. 

By the time they’re both out of the stalls, you’re washing the final suds from your hands. From the mirror, you see their faces change, realizing who you are. 

The air becomes unnecessarily tense, you’re unsure why, both of the boys are trying to pretend otherwise. 

Avery and Jax glance at each other, walking to the sinks. And it’s not until Avery decides to speak, that the silence is again broken.

“Hey, um-“ you look at him, “I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but…” he looks hesitant to speak, like what he say might come off as offensive, something sensitive. Your curiosity only grows. 

“Is it true, that you and Draco are dating?”

You nearly choke.

“What?” You asks, hating that this is the 2nd time Draco has been brought up to you. 

“I mean, I heard that-“ Avery seems to notice the growing worry plastered on your face- it’s spreading. Your secret is spreading.

“Oh,” Avery begins to realize, “sorry, Y/n, that was a bit invasive.” His tone is calm, only slightly uncomfortable. Pretty much the opposite to you- itching to drop the conversation. But, you keep a calm face, shoving the gross feelings down. 

“No it’s fine, um, why?” You can only hope your voice doesn’t give everything away. 

“Oh, I just thought I heard a couple Slytherin kids talking about it.” Again, his voice feels too nonchalant. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Oh.” The slightest shake. Unlike Avery, though, Jax still seems interested.

“Wait- do you like him though?” This results in an elbow to rib, and Avery looks at him like a mother scolding their child.

“Ow!-“ Jax grunts, glaring yet ignoring the hint, “I’m just asking. You know about the Slytherins and Huffs’.” 

“They just…” his eyes dart right back to yours, “they just don’t go together, man.” You hate the way he says it- hate how it feels like you’re being scolded, looked down on. Looking down at the yellow and black robes draped across your shoulder, you avoid Jaxon’s gaze. 

Which, in hindsight, gives enough of an answer.

The two Gryffindors shuffle out of the bathroom, and immediately you let out a groan. 

You’re fucked. 

Hands run down your face in exasperation- this wasn’t supposed to get out. Draco probably knows now, people think that you’re dating. 

The unusually large bathroom echoes mumbled curses back to you, silence so eery it feels haunting. You feel yourself  beginning to doubt if you should even return to potions class- knowing Draco is sitting at the desk a few feet from yours. 

“They just don’t go together, man…”

“A Hufflepuff? Liking Malfoy? Oh, please…”

Another sigh.

You feel your fingers pressing into your eyelids, passing over your temples and the wrinkles above your nose.

‘He’s gonna hate me’

Such a childish thought, but once it appeared you felt a sickening feeling in your chest because oh, how you wish he doesn’t. 

Outside, footsteps echo in the hallway. 

And Draco himself, walks down the corridor towards the boy’s bathroom, taking his time with the silence. It’s a much better option, compared to Snape’s incessant grumbling. 

He’s been trying to think the whole day- but is only now getting the chance thanks to that little posse of his.

For hours now, whenever given the chance, his mind drifts back to the conversations from early this morning at breakfast.

“Have you heard?” Pansy leans over the table, one eyebrow raised as if she’s careful of listening ears. Though, to that she doesn’t spare a second thought.

Blaise narrows his eyes, looking at her curiously. “Heard what?” He asks, and Draco impatiently looks at her.

“What now.” The blonde already doesn’t care, Pansy always seems to find some sort of gossip across houses. But this time, she’s sending a smirk right his way.

“Some little Hufflepuff has a crush on you.”

Now, to this, Draco does perk up- and his eyes flicker in your direction for only a moment. But, he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge it. 

“Mhm.” Pansy sounds so smug in her words, satisfied as both boys lean closer to her.

“Who?” Blaise asked, the roughness behind his voice covering any curiosity. 

“Y/n L/n.”

Draco looks bewildered for a second- you?  He never thought it was actually you, that was only a spark of hope in a moment of weakness. He was prepared to hear the name of some random girl he hadn’t learned the name of before- but the familiar ring of your name brought satisfaction to follow the shock.

He doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that shows through. Beside him, Blaise scoffs.

“You’re joking”. He says, and Draco shoots him a glare.

“What? It’s no surprise,” he says cockily, “jealousy’s never a good look”. The meaningless comeback earns a glare and an eye roll from Blaise- and surprises Pansy. 

“Draco,” she narrows her eyes, “do you like this? Him?” She gives him a once-over, checking to see if he’s serious. He is.

Draco doesn’t give a straight answer, though, instead scoffing and going back to his plate. 

“Get a life, why don’t you. Your gossip is boring me.” He says- but there’s the slightest pull at his lips, smiling your way.

Draco pushes open the large door, stepping inside the bathroom and immediately- his eyes land on you.

“Y/n?” 

Your head snaps up, and a new feeling sinks into your stomach when you see him. You can’t tell if you wish it was someone else, or if this is perhaps what you were hoping for.

“Uh, hey.”

Draco steps closer, and you can see some sort of glint in his eyes, and you can’t quite name the warm yet uneasy feeling that follows.

“Skipping Snape’s class now, are we?” He teases in a smug voice, and your blood aches in your cheeks. 

“Just taking a break-“ you don’t look at him, using a towel to wipe off your hands. You simply want to play it cool in front of him, though you’re unsure considering the past two times you seem to have failed.

“A break, hmm? I’m sure.” He says sarcastically.

Instead of picking a stall, like you expected, you watch from the corner of your eye as he approaches you and leans on one of the sinks.

“So,” 

You freeze. 

‘Don’t say it..’

“There seems to be a bit of a rumor spreading around.” 

You visibly wince, the moment you prayed would never come has arrived. He found out- and just like the others, he knows that he could never accept a silly school crush from your house.

Turned away, you’re unable to see the smirk on his face- but you can hear it in his voice.

“Draco…” you mumble, feeling the dread of what his response is going to be. He’s closer now, you feel it- and suddenly his figure is right beside you. 

“Y’know, if you wanted a date so badly you could’ve asked.”

You pause.

What?

His voice is new, because while there’s still such a teasing tone buried in the words, you notice…hope, as well.

You look at him, and notice his eyes have softened. 

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, “no need to have waited so long.” He still sounds partially like he’s joking, but his fingers are creeping closer to yours by the sink’s ledge.

The pieces are starting to connect in your head- he hasn’t pushed you away, hasn’t called you any names. In fact- he’s the one getting so close.

Draco watches, examining your face. He’s starting to feel impatient, actually, feeling he’s been clear enough. He doesn’t seem to understand how confusing his words can be- how your beating heart is twisting and unraveling in your chest. He’s too preoccupied with his own churning heart.

“What’re you saying?” You finally ask, and he nearly scoffs.

“Hell, you’re real thick in the head aren’t you?”

He doesn’t even try stopping himself as his hands cup your face, and his lips are molding right into yours.

He’s so quick with it, like he’s been waiting years for this, yet so smooth at the same time. You can feel your eyes as they shoot open, only to hazily fall half closed a moment later. 

His arms loop around your waist, so you were almost bent into his body. You have to take a cautionary step back just to stable yourself, one hand holding his neck, it almost takes you too long to realize he is kissing you. 

‘Holy shit, holy shit holy shit holy shit-‘ your mind races, and it feels like only half of it is functioning. Part of you is swimming, the other half melting into his arms because oh how long have you been waiting to feel him so close. 

He’s smirking into the kiss now, breaking it into quicker, shorter kisses that mesh together to make one, long breathless one. Through the haze of his lips, your hand creeps into his hair and he wonders why he waited so long to experience this.

You tug slightly, other hand grabbing his jaw, and you pull him away.

The room is no longer silent, both of you  catching your breath.

“I’ll take that as your confession, then?” You ask.

“‘Course,” he replies, “meet again after Potions?”

“Sounds good.”

[I hope you all enjoyed- I feel there’s probably more I could’ve added or something, but for now this is good. If anyone wants an add on or more or like a part two let me know!]

[sturnioloszn]

TRICK OR TREAT? - C.S

summary; your friend drags you to the sturniolo's annual halloween party but your slutty costume catches chris' eye and staring isn't enough.

warnings; smut, oral, praise, begging, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol.

a/n; this is my first post, so let's keep the hate tame, thank you. but if you enjoyed this, feel free to leave suggestions on other stuff I can write or if you want to see different content (texts, clips, etc) because I suck ass at writing lmaoo.

"Y/n come onnnn, are you really going to make me go by myself AGAIN?" My friend complains as she flops down on her bed in front of me.

"You know parties aren't my scene, especially not the Sturniolo's parties," I say, leaning against the headboard. Every year on Halloween, the Sturniolo's throw a massive party at their house and it always details a shit ton of alcohol and drugs.

"It'll be funnn, just give it a chance, you haven't come to a party with me since high school," She continues to whine about the fact that she always has to go alone or find random people to hang with but it's not my fault we are polar opposites.

She continues her persuasion for another half hour and I finally begin to cave.

"Even if I were to go, I don't have a costume to wear," I say, shrugging my shoulders, knowing that she'll find something so that I'm forced to go.

"You can just wear what I wore last year, you'd look so hot," She replies as she moves towards her closet. She's rummaging through her clothes, pulling out random pieces of clothing and tossing them over her shoulder, causing them to scatter all over the room, making a mess.

"How slutty is it?" I laugh, acknowledging the fact that she loves going out half naked every Halloween since we were 16.

"Actually, not bad at all," She says, pulling out a leather mini skirt and a low-cut body con top. I look at the clothes layed out on the bed with a clear sense of confusion.

"What is this supposed to be?" I say trying to make sense of the plain, black clothes.

"A black cat, duh," She grins.

"Are you serious?" I ask, furrowing my brows to see if she's joking or not.

"Of course, it doesn't look like much now, but with a few accessories and makeup, it'll look amazing. You're just going to have to trust me,"

Ugh, I guess I'm going to this party.

~

I'm sliding into the tight-fitting clothes that I was given, and I could barely breathe. The skirt just about covers my ass and any movement at all would cause my ass to be on show completely. Whereas the top pushed my tits together, making it the focal point of the outift. Wow. I looked like a slut.

I paired the outfit with black mid-thigh tights, black platform heels, and gloves with claws attached at the fingertips. I went to show my friend who was currently doing her own makeup.

"What do you think?" I ask, already certain of her response.

"Oh. My. God." She says, turning around in her makeup chair to look at me properly. "If you weren't my bestfriend...smash," She speaks again, now giggling.

I laugh at her stupid commentary before questioning what to do for my makeup. She insists on doing it, so I wait for her to finish her makeup before doing mine.

Our costumes didn't really correlate considering I was a black cat and she was a slutty Wednesday Addams but regardless we did look hot.

After a few hours of getting ready, we were finally heading towards the door. We took an uber to the triplets house even though I would probably be able to drive anyway because I had no intention of drinking.

As the car pulled into the neighbourhood, you could instantly identify which house the party was being held at. Aside from the heaps of cars messily parked around, there were a bunch of people gathered outside, in front of the house, with red solo cups in their hands and music blaring from inside the house.

We stepped out of the uber and began to make our way to the door. I felt at least 4 pairs of eyes on my ass, I knew this skirt was going to be a problem. The party itself consisted of a bunch of sweaty and drunk strangers rubbing against each other.

I will never understand parties.

Before we got too close to the speaker, I felt someone move to my ear. "I'm gonna go get something to drink, what do you want?" My friend asked.

"Nothing, I'm not drinking," I say, also speaking into her ear since the music is already too loud.

"Oh, come on, you need to loosen up, it'll make the party more tolerable," She says as if she acknowledges the fact that being at a party sober really does kill the atmosphere.

"Fine, just get me something that's not too strong," I give in. I guess I am drinking tonight. Good thing we took an uber then.

After a few drinks and a couple of shots, I feel my walls come down, and I began to actually enjoy myself. I lost sight of my friend a while ago, but I know she's either dancing or getting laid. Either way, I'm happy for her.

As I'm dancing and swerving my hips to the beat of the music, I feel a pair of eyes burn into the back of my head. I turn around and see Chris leaning on the kitchen counter with a red solo cup in his hand. We make eye contact for a brief moment before I decide to turn back around and keep dancing as if his glare wasn't intimidating the fuck out of me.

A few moments go by, and as I rock my hips, I feel a presence come up behind me, and 2 firm hands grip either side of my hips. I shift my head to the side to see who it could be, and of course, it was him. However, turning my head seemed to be a mistake because it gave Chris the opportunity to dip his head onto my shoulder. This makes my heartbeat instantly spike.

I then feel his lips move to my ear, "You've been driving me insane for 2 hours straight,".

The atmosphere becomes thick, and I'm struggling to find the air to breathe. "What are you talking about?" I ask innocently, putting up a façade.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't act naive," he responds. I guess he's smarter than he looks. Before I have the chance to say anything else, I feel him speak into my ear again, "Trick or treat?".

What? What is he talking about?

"Treat?" I respond not really knowing what I'm asking for. I feel his smirk grow against my ear before he intertwines his fingers with mine and begins to drag me down the stairs of his house. We walk down a narrow hallway, and we reach a room. He puts a code in to open it and pulls me into the room with him.

I look around briefly and realise it's likely his bedroom. It looks like a normal guy's room; a king-size bed, a desk with a gaming setup, a closet, you know, the usual pieces found in a bedroom.

I turn to look at him, and he's looking straight at me as if he's trying to memorise my face.

"So, do you want your treat now?" He questions seductively as he steps towards me. I consequently take a step back, but I'm blocked from making any further moves when my back hits the door. I gulp at the fact that there's nowhere for me to run or hide.

"What's my treat?" I ask, my voice being barely louder than a whisper. His eyes are glued to mine, and it begins to feel a bit like a staring competition.

"Whatever you want," He smirks.

"Whatever I want?" I repeat slightly in shock, my heartbeat growing faster and faster. On top of my heart trying to escape from my chest, I feel my wetness beginning to gather in my panties. I mean, who could blame me. I was being seduced by The Chris Sturniolo himself.

He nods at my silly repetition.

All of a sudden, I feel a wave of confidence wash over me. This must be the alcohol resurfacing.

"I want your mouth between my legs," I say, looking at his face for a response to what I just said. A sly grin crawls up his face as his hand slides up to the side of my face and holds me gently as he guides my head towards his.

I feel his soft lips come in contact with mine, and I feel myself melt into his touch. The kiss was soft and tender, but it very easily transformed into one full of lust and passion. The hand that was cupping my cheek moves to the nape of neck, and his other hands begins to roam across my hip and lower back.

I take the chance to slip off my gloves and tangle my hands into his messy hair. Chris grows tired of kissing my lips and firmly tilts my head upwards to give him access to my neck. He delivers wet, open-mouthed kisses all over my neck and collar bone before I feel him find my sweet spot. I release a soft moan at his discovery, which just encourages him to suck and stimulate that area further.

As he continues to mark my neck, I feel his hands move to the back of my thighs before delivering a few taps. I obediently listen to his commands as he lifts me up from the floor, and I wrap my legs around his torso. In this new position, I feel his hard dick strain against clothed pussy.

Suddenly, my back is pulled away from the door, and I feel him carry me towards the bed. Surely, a few seconds later, I was placed onto his mattress. He was on top of me, still placing kisses all over me but slowly making his way closer to my tits.

Before his mouth even has the chance to reach my tits he pulls away. I shudder a little at the loss of contact, but my disappointment doesn't last long when I realise he has his eyes on the prize. He shifts down the bed so that he's now lying on his stomach, and I feel his breath on my inner thighs.

He places a gentle kiss along the inside of my thighs, and I buck my hips at his face, needing his lips somewhere else.

"You're so impatient, aren't you?" He sneers against my soft skin. I groan at his question because he knows where I want him, and yet he's everywhere, but where I need him most.

"Please, Chris, I need you..so, so bad," I plead, I don't care how needy I sound. I just need the relief. With every kiss he placed on my skin, the wetter I became, and it started to become unbearable.

He hummed at my pathetic begging, which caused jolts of electricity to spark all around my body. He finally gave in, and he pulled my panties to the side, taking in the sight before him.

My wet, pink pussy was displayed right infront of him and all he could do was smile. He carefully brought his middle finger to my slick folds, and he collected the wetness that had gathered, I moaned at this action, finally getting some relief. He then brought his finger to his lips and sucked it clean.

He held eye contact with me the entire time, and the only thing I could do was look into his lifeless, blue eyes as he pleased me. He finally sunk his middle finger into me, and the relief was intense. His long, slender finger pumped in and out rhythmically.

"You're so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you," He states almost disgusted by me. His comment made me throw my head back and just focus on his delicious movements. After a few moments, he added his ring finger to the mix, stretching me out further.

All of this was nothing, though. The second he lowered his mouth, I knew I didn't stand a chance. His tongue begins to expertly lick between my folds, collecting all of my juices. By now, I'm a breathy and whimpering mess.

"Chris, please," I plead again.

"What do you want, baby?" He asks, briefly pulling away.

"I want to come on your tongue," I breathe out.

This encourages him to work more efficiently, as he moves his mouth over my bundle of nerves before sucking at it. I can't help but moan at how good it feels.

His fingers are still pumping in and out of me at an amazing pace, and his mouth is working wonders. I feel my orgasm building up in my stomach. I tangle one of my hands into his hair to push him into me further. I need him as close as to me as possible.

At this point, I'm practically riding his face, but I can't help it from how good it feels. My legs begin to spam uncontrollably, and I know I was close.

"I'm so...~ah~...close" I moan, letting him know even though he can definitely tell.

"Beg to come," He says without slowing his movements.

"Please let me come...it feels so good, please...I'm begging you, Chris," I beg shamelessly. He's satisfied with my pitiful pleads and starts to move both his tongue and fingers faster. All that can be heard is the music from the party bleeding into the room and the wet sound of him pleasuring me. This pushes me even closer to the edge.

I feel my orgasm about to wash over me, and I know he knows because I feel my pussy squeeze around his fingers and my thighs grip his head, basically holding him in place.

"You're doing so good f'me," He manages to say while drowing in me, and that was the final straw.

I finally let go, and I feel my juices cover his mouth, chin, and fingers as he continues to ride out my high. I arch my back off the bed, and the most pornographic moans leave my mouth.

I start to recover, and his movements begin to slow. He eventually separates his mouth from my pussy and he slips his fingers out. He moves his body back up to my face, and he places soft kisses against my mouth, and I taste myself on his tongue.

"That was..." I begin to say but realise I can't find words powerful enough to describe how amazing that was. He just smiles lazily at me.

He then moves to lay beside me on the bed, I'm still catching my breath as I hear him wince. I look over and see him looking down. I follow his gaze over to where his dick is basically fighting it's way out of his jeans. He's rock hard. I bet it hurts.

I look over at him once again and smirk before moving off the bed and bringing myself to the floor between his legs...

a/n; should I do a p2 to this??? let me know, and I'll do it, I'm also taking requests, it doesn't have to be smut. I'm happy to write cute one shots or fluffs with Matt, Chris, or Nick. anyway, thank you for readingg, love you <33.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Nick Amaro- No Place Left For You To Be Shy 

This is a continuation of A Crowded Bar Question.

This is NSFW!!!  

I’m just going to be honest guys, I'm not sure about this one. I loved the vibe that I put into the previous part. I was so excited about this sex scene, and I had a whole plan for it. I just don’t know if I pulled it or Nick’s character off. And I can’t tell if it’s bad or just not what I wanted it to be... But I spent a few hours writing it so I'm posting it anyway.  

It had been almost two months since the incident in the bar. The mark on your neck faded away but your memory of the night and Nick Amaro’s touch hadn’t. You had thought about going to him and begging him to make good on his promise. You wanted to experience more of the fire he had ignited in you. A fire you hadn’t ever felt with your ex. But Nick was right about more than just you being too drunk to consent to sex that night. You were vulnerable after your breakup. You needed time to process everything and start to heal before jumping into another man’s bed.  

You have seen Nick several times since that night. You were surprised that he acted as if nothing had happened that night at the bar the first time you saw him again at a crime scene. Not that he ignored you either. He was his normal charming self. He had made small talk with you and checked on how you were doing.

It made you question again if what you thought had happened that night really had. It was reaffirmed that it did indeed as you were packing up to leave. Your standard issue crime scene jumper had unzipped and pulled your shirt down leaving the mark on display. Nick’s warm hands had pulled the shirt back into place. He made full eye contact before giving you a wink and a mischievous smile before leaving to return to work. 

Things had only been a little different, just enough for you to notice. You didn’t see Nick at every crime scene, you covered any of the various departments in Manhattan. However, when you did, he was just a little flirtier, his charm turned up a notch or two higher than normal. He also always seemed to find a reason to touch you. Nothing that could be considered inappropriate, but a hand on your shoulder or him brushing by just a little too closely. Every time he did it sent fire through your entire body, a shiver up your spine. He was trying to be respectful and waiting for you to make up your mind while showing you that he was still willing to fulfill his promise. You also had no doubt that if you told him to stop or even gave him a hint of being uncomfortable, he would stop immediately and without question. 

The urge overtook you like most things did in your life, hitting you all at once and begging you to jump. Nick had offered sex that night at the bar and you wanted it. You didn’t know how it had happened but all at once his soft touches and flirty words sunk into your stomach and exploded into lust. You were doing your job when it happened. He had brushed by you just enough that you felt the heat of his body tease you along with the scent of his aftershave. Something snaps in you and before you can rethink your jump. 

You finish bagging a bloodstained shirt when you call him over, “Detective,” He turns away from the other crewmembers and saunters to you. It’s nothing out of the ordinary and nobody pays any attention, busy in their late-night work. He stops just a little too close and you turn into him making the space smaller. You hold up the bag in false pretenses and he takes it. You drop your voice when you ask, “You want to make good on your offer?” It’s bold and you think he might ask you to be more direct and tell him exactly what you mean by that.  

He doesn’t. 

It is like a switch being flipped back on. The heat between you two begins to smolder. When you look up from the bag you handed him and meet his eyes there is an intensity that washes over you. You are in the CSU standard blue jumpsuit but never felt more exposed. It was like he could see right through it. The passion in his dark brown eyes, there was no mistaking that he knew exactly what you were referring to. “Was just waiting on you, Carino.” His words are a husky purr. When he senses someone coming towards you, he hands the evidence bag back to you. The roughness of the callous on his hands scratches against your gloves as his touch lingers with promise. 

It hadn’t taken long for you to receive a text from an unknown number asking about the next night. You hadn’t questioned how he got your number, just saved him to your contacts under Amaro. You agreed that your place would be the better choice because his five-year-old daughter Zara was living with him full-time. You could understand him not wanting to bring you into his child’s home even with her being away for the night with her grandmother. It was just better that way, simpler. 

You knew it would be awkward. You had never set up a one-night stand before. Not to mention you were younger than Nick. Not by a lot but enough to make you feel like he was the more experienced. Anxiety and lust fought inside your stomach as you waited for Nick to show up. You drank some wine to just take the edge off. A sharp fruity flavor that made it so you could barely taste the alcohol. You only had glass but it helped ease the nerves. 

It was a little awkward when Nick first arrived. There was no immediate ripping of clothes off like hookups on TV. Nick was a detective, and his assessing eyes took over your small but mostly tidy apartment as soon as he walked in the door. You were still starting out in a small one-bedroom apartment. The look of the place was bohemian with pops of color and pattern. Your ex who wanted everything to look like it had just come out of a magazine hated it. It was too girly and not tasteful enough.

You had grown up in a lower-middle-class family in a small town. Your home wasn’t supposed to be about first impressions but self-expression and comfort. Nick didn’t seem to mind at all and after his obligatory checking of the room, his attention was returned to you. 

The heat of his body was becoming familiar to you as he stepped into your space. His thumb brushed across your cheek as he tilted your head and his lips caught yours. Just like that the switch had been turned back on. Lust bloomed through your body along with an intoxicating heat. You pushed onto your toes to get closer, your arm hesitantly wrapping around his neck. You moaned as his tongue ran over your bottom lip. You allowed the kiss to deepen but Nick pulled back tasting the alcohol still lingering in your mouth. Your brows crinkled in confusion. “You’ve been drinking.”  

“It was only a glass of wine. I’m not drunk.” He pushes your hair out of your face, his perspective eyes studying yours. You stare back at him with no hesitation because you know he won’t find any deceit there. You're not drunk. He isn’t taking advantage of you. You want to have sex with him. It had been so long; your ex and you had stopped months before the breakup. 

“You know we don’t have to do this. That any time you can say no.” You smile at him. He works at SVU it made sense that he wanted confirmed consent. It was sweet, even if it was slightly unexpected. You easily oblige him. 

“I know but I want to.” You press your body fully into his feeling heat bloom through you as you rub up against him as you lean up for a kiss. “I want you to make good on your promise. Please.” It seems to be all the encouragement that he needs. His lips find yours again for a hot open mouth kiss. The kisses were sloppy and needy.  

Even with taking a few minutes to find a rhythm, it was clear that Nick was a great kisser. It seemed that charming women wasn’t the only thing that Nick’s tongue was good at. The awkwardness passed in a flash. The kisses continued as he backed you into your bedroom. He took his time undressing you, starting with your shirt and bra, kissing every inch of the newly exposed skin. He laid you on the bed as his lips traveled down your neck towards your now bare chest. His hands rub up your ribs causing you to shiver.

One of his hands found your breast as his mouth latched on to your other nipple. You groaned and arched into him gripping his shoulders. His tongue circles your hardened nipple insistently and you hiss when he bites down just hard enough to leave an echo of pain that he soothes with his mouth. The pain mixes with your pleasure and you can feel the rush of arousal dampen your already wet panties. He switches to the other to give it the same attention. 

You tug at his crisp white dress shirt. While you were half naked Nick hadn’t lost any clothes yet aside from his suit jacket and shoes that he had taken off at the door. You had just managed to pull the shirt free of his pants and your fingers had finally found hot, tanned skin when he pulled back. His body heat was taken away as he stood leaving you cold and feeling exposed your arms crossed your chest unconsciously.  

Nick who was standing in front of you unbuttoning his shirt caught the movement and he tsked, “Oh hermosa, te sientes timida? (beautiful, are you feeling shy?) I promise you, by the end of the night you will feel like a Reina (queen).” There was surety in his tone as he undid the buttons on his cuffs before rolling them up his forearms and taking the shirt off. He leaned forward, putting his hands on either side of you caging you in.

Your eyes were fixated on his newly exposed toned chest. He closed the distance and you arched into him when his naked chest brushed yours. You wrapped your arms around him caressing his back. He left an open-mouthed kiss on your neck before whispering in your ear. “I’m going to make you feel poderosa, caliente, y en control de tu sexualidad. (Powerful, hot, and in control of your sexuality) There will be no space left for you to feel shy.” 

His fingers brushed the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rocked up in response. He chuckled making quick work of your jeans leaving you in only a pair of soaked panties. He groaned as he cupped you rubbing you over the wet lace. “You’re already soaked. ¿Necesitabas desesperadamente esta atención? (Were you in desperate need of this attention?)” He presses one finger against your core and your fingertips curl into his skin as it easily slides in. He pumps it inside you a few times before adding a second. Your nails scratch at his back as you rock firmly against him. You curse as he pulls them out of you once again leaving you needy and squirming.  

“Nick,” It comes out breathless, and his face wears a cocky smirk. He brings the fingers that were just inside you to his greedy mouth and sucks them clean while he looks straight into your eyes. And fuck is it hot. Everything Nick does is somehow sensual. You’ve never been this wet this quickly before. Who knew Spanish words, only half of which you could understand could turn you on so much. Wasn’t French supposed to be the seductive language? Or would it not have the same effect if it didn’t come from Nick’s wicked mouth? 

You watch that hand leave his lips and go down to his belt. You can feel his heavy stare on you as you watch him shed his pants and then his underwear. Your lips part in an inaudible gasp. Nick Amaro in all his glory is a sight as hot as sin. He is also above average... and then some. His cock is thick and long and already fully hard. It was bigger than anyone you had ever been with, and your ex by far. You watched with rapid attention as his hand wrapped around his dick pumping it a few times.

“Carino,” Your eyes shoot up to Nick’s blush staining your cheeks. His fingers curl around the elastic of your panties and you lift your hips so he can pull them off. “Slide back on the bed and get on your knees for me.” 

You do as you're told, and he follows you onto the bed. He kisses you again, rougher more demanding. You moan into the kiss while his hands trail over your body, gripping and stroking your naked form. He broke the kiss by pulling at your hip forcing you to turn around, so your back was pressed tightly against his chest. He ground his cock against your ass and you both groaned.  

You were a little confused by the abrupt change in position when he was the one who had requested it. When you looked up though you realized why. Nick had positioned you directly in front of the mirror you were now facing. His eyes were trained on yours in its reflection. You dropped your head letting your eyes fall closed. 

Nick’s mouth was hot and wet as he kissed up your neck to your ear. Two of his fingers found your soaking core again. You moaned when he started pumping them in and out of your wet heat, his fingers curling deliciously inside of you. The fire in your belly grew as you rutted into his fingers. His other hand slid up your body making its way to your throat. The pressure was gentle, barely there, raising your chin up. Your eyes open and you find his in the mirror again.    

His hot breath made you shudder as he whispered into your ear, “I’m going to show you how a man should make you feel. I’m going to give you everything you want, and more.” You groan his name in response. His tongue traces the shell of your ear, “The only thing I want you to do for me is watch. I want you to watch me take you there. Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”  

You aren’t sure if you can, but Nick’s fingers are still working you and his thumb has found your clit. The rubbing is madding and pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm you can feel it clenching your stomach. Your eyes go down the mirror and watch as his fingers fuck into your cunt. His other hand is sliding back around you as he plays with a nipple. Your orgasm hits you less than a minute later. You force your head back onto his shoulder your hips bucking into his fingers sloppily as he works you through your pleasure. 

When you come back to yourself you notice that Nick’s rocking against your ass more firmly now. His precum leaked onto your skin. His fingers have stopped, and he slowly removes them from your core. When nothing else follows you open your eyes and look back into the mirror to find Nick’s brown eyes. “That’s a good girl.” He continues to caress your body running his hands all over your exposed flesh as he nips and sucks at your neck, shoulders, and upper back. You find that after the release of an orgasm, you don’t feel as self-conscious. And watching the mirror, as you were asked, wasn’t hard when you were focused on Nick instead of yourself.  

You watch as he reaches for the condom that he had set on the nightstand and pulls just far enough away from you to slip it on. When the head of his cock finds your entrance, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Still, high on your pleasure, you can't find it in yourself to worry. Instead, you are rocking with him coating him with your arousal. When he pushes in there is a generous slide from your wetness but it’s still a stretch. You force yourself not to close your eyes at the sensation because seeing his face in the mirror when his slow movement finally has him bottomed out in you is magical.  

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size but soon you're wiggling against him because you need him to move. He starts slow with a steady rhythm, both of you getting used to each other. Your eyes are glued to the mirror watching his arms wrap around you. His hands caress your skin, playing with your breast, and rolling your nipples. Watching him take pleasure in your body is erotic. He is playing with your clit, and you can feel another orgasm building quickly. His hand twists in your hair turning you to face him. He doesn’t kiss you, not really, your lips are barely brushing as you share air. Your orgasm washes over you and his lips crash onto yours stealing your cry of pleasure. Your walls squeeze him tightly and he picks up his pace.  

You’re spent and fall forward, Nick lets you down to your elbows slowly. You are on all fours as you try to catch your breath and regain your senses. He presses down on your upper back making you arch your ass up higher. You swear because the change in angle lets him hit deeper sending a rush of wetness through your core. The extra slide allows Nick to thrust deeper inside of you. His tip finds a sensitive spot that leaves your thighs shaking and your walls flutter against him. He curses in Spanish as his thrusts get sloppy and his orgasm slams through him. He continues to rock against you as he empties himself into the condom.  

He falls forward, his upper half pressing you down. You can feel each of his harsh breaths as his chest heaves with his excursion. His forehead is pressed against your sweaty back. He stays like that for only a minute as his breathing evens out. He lifts his head and runs his hand down your spine. You hiss as he pulls out of you leaving you feeling empty. He gets up to take care of the condom.  

You roll over onto your back arms resting over your head spread out like a starfish. Your body is tingling from your head to the tips of your fingers and toes with leftover sensation and your mind has been scrambled. You haven’t felt this warm, sated, and absolutely exhausted in years.

You don’t hear Nick but feel the mattress dip when he sits down. When you open your eyes to look you see he has pulled his boxers back on and is holding a glass of wine from the bottle you had opened earlier and a beer from the fridge. “I hope you don’t mind.” 

You shake your head because at this moment he could rob you blind and you probably just lay there and let him with a satisfied smile. “Thank you,” You sit up taking the glass from him.

You take a sip, and it tastes even better now. You would swear at this moment that good sex makes everything better. Nick leans back into the pillows resting his back against the headboard. He holds out his arm up in an offering. You only hesitate for a second sliding over to cuddle up with him on top of the covers. He runs his hand along your back, a smug satisfied smile on his face as he takes a long pull of his beer. He looks proud of himself. You don’t think much of it after all he had just got off. Later after he leaves and you are just falling asleep do you understand. 

You echo his words half asleep into the dark empty room. “I will leave no place left for you to be shy.”  

Alright, guys so what does the Jury think?  

I also want to say the amount of love I have been getting on my stories is amazing! I thought that the SUV fandom had died out and that's why I started writing my own but I’m so glad to see it’s not. I am running out of stories to read though so if you have any recs, please send them to me!!! 

[jeankluv]

The forgotten boy - Geto Suguru | Chapter 03

words: 3,2k

summary: He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from that moment on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Geto Suguru lived for 1,000 years, being forgotten by everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”

ac: _3aem

tags: angst, fluff, fantasy au, different lifetimes, dual pov, use of y/n, fem!character, modern settings but also past settings, eventual smut, destiny, characters death (in the flashbacks), blood [more tags in the future]

notes: from now on the chapters will be published between Friday-Sunday, I want to take my time to write the chapters properly and they will probably be every two weeks. One week there will be TFB chapter and another week Birdie chapter. This way is easier for me to organize everything. I also have to thank everyone for all your kind messages in this fic, makes me so happy. I personally love this chapter for a particular scene that happens, I hope y’all like it too 🫶

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

Suguru was outside the coffee shop waiting for you to finish your job. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. The truth is that he has never had an actual date before. Sure he has had encounters with different people over the decades, but it was always one night where he needed to sneak out as soon as possible. Just imagine the shock of those who shared a passionate night with him after waking up and seeing a man they didn’t know anything about.

But with you, he didn’t want to have a passionate night. No. He wanted to get to know you and perhaps meet you on more occasions. Build something between the two of you, even if it was a friendship. He wanted to have that, someone to talk and share things they could remember.

He couldn’t deny it, you were gorgeous. Warm smile and kind eyes, that made his heart pump on his chest like never before. And small freckles on that face. Was it 9 or 10 freckles? He couldn’t remember it exactly.

“Kento!” Your soft voice made him look up. You were smiling at him. “Sorry, did I make you wait a lot? There was a last minute client and couldn’t leave.”

“No, it’s okay.” He smiled back at you.

“Good. So what do you want to do?” You moved your hands nervously.

“Mhm?” He thought for a moment. He only didn’t have much money with him, he didn’t expect to go out with anyone that day and he also didn’t want to borrow more money from Nanami’s apartment. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh I’m starving!” You smiled. “I know a really good place, near here. The sandwiches are delicious and…”

“I don’t have much money with me.”

You opened your mouth and then smiled. “It’s okay, I will invite you.”

“But I was the one that asked you out. It would be rude for you to be paying when it was me.” He said with a worried look.

“Then you will have to invite me out again.” You smiled and grabbed his wrist. “Now let’s go, Kento!”

Suguru just let himself be guided by you. Not only was your smile so warm, your hands were also warm. He watched your back while you still held his wrist, trying to make your way through the crowded street. It was lunchtime and many office workers had gone out to eat at the restaurants in the area. He could lose you if it wasn’t because you were still holding to his wrist.

You walked a few more meters and then turned to the left, through a small street that was not so crowded. You were still holding him and walking in front of him although there were not so many people around.

“Suguru, come on! We need to run from them!” A female voice told him.

Suguru stopped walking, making you also stop. When you turned, you saw his pale face, as pale as you had seen it hours before and his eyes wide open.

Suguru on his part, was trying to understand what that had been. A deja vu? Was that what they were called? He had felt real, even the cold of a nonexistent night had hit his face. But he had not been able to see the woman's figure well and her voice had been a distant echo.

“Kento?” You were looking at him and holding his arms on both sides. “You okay?”

Suguru nodded and tried to put those thoughts aside. “Yeah, don’t worry. There were just a lot of people before and I got a bit stressed. That’s all.” You nodded and this time placed yourself next to him.

You both walked slowly, not speaking but not feeling uncomfortable for the silence that it was formed between the both of you.

You stood in front of the bar where you wanted to take him and looked at him. He approached the door and opened it, letting you through. You entered the place, it was not very crowded and the people who were there seemed to be mainly people from the neighborhood, people who had lived there all their lives. You took his hand and took him to your favorite place. It was a table overlooking an interior patio that was decorated full of nature. You sat down, facing each other and took the menu.

“You should try this.” You said pointing at one of the sandwiches written in the menu. “It’s really good.”

“I would try it then.” He nodded.

“Good.” You stood up but he grabbed your hand. “What?”

“I should be the one ordering and paying…”

You shook your head with a smile. “Nope. This time I will be paying. That way you can ask me out again, right?” You winked your eye and walked out.

Suguru stood there with his mouth slightly opened and watched you as you spoke with someone that apparently you already knew. He turned around and looked through the window, when was the last time he ate with someone else? Probably with Nanami a few months ago, they met again and Suguru invited Nanami to eat, although it was technically Nanami’s money so… but it didn’t matter because that time after their goodbye, he knew Nanami wouldn’t remember him, but this time seemed to be different.

“Here!” You put the two sandwiches on the table.

“Thank you.”

“And tell me Kento.” Every time he heard that name it was strange. “What do you do for the living?” You bite a piece of the sandwich.

Suguru thought for a moment but without looking suspicious. “I work from home, in things related to marketing.” It was all a lie but he had read something about marketing in the newspaper and sounded cool.

“Oh.” You smiled. “That’s cool.” You nodded. “And do you like our coffee shop?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice. The coffee is really good and it has good employees.”

You slightly laughed. “It’s good to hear that and it’s also good to see you there everyday.”

“Let’s stop talking about me.” Suguru stopped you. “Tell me something about you.”

“Well… there is not much to say. I work in the coffee shop, I have a cat, her name is Blue.” You smiled. “And I studied arts.”

“Do you paint?” Suguru asked.

“Yeah.” You searched in your bag. “Here.” You took the sketch book from it and hung it to him. “You can look if you want and give me your honest opinion.”

Suguru held the sketch book between his hands and opened it. The first drawings were a cat, the same cat, it was probably your cat. There were also sketches of different people. You were good, really good. He turned the page and his eyes spotted a familiar figure, it was him, drinking a coffee.

“This…”

“Yeah, sorry.” You flushed. “I thought it was another sketch book with flowers but it was the one where I drew you. Sorry if you feel uncomfortable or something but you looked really good and I don’t know but something inside of me was screaming to draw you. Sorry again.”

“No.” Suguru shook his head. “This is really good. You are really good and I’m glad someone as talented as you can draw me like that. I’m honored.”

You looked at him with surprise. “I… that’s really nice. Thank you.” You said looking down and playing with your hands.

“You deserve to be in a museum or something.” He smiled.

“I doubt anyone would want to buy any of these.” You sighed.

“I would buy them.”

Click. You had this conversation before. But when? Where? You shook your head and smiled back at him. The evening went smoothly, talking about trivial things.

Suguru couldn’t stop admiring you, the way your face light up whenever you were talking about something you liked, the way you would move your hands excited while telling him something. You were mesmerizing. He wanted this to last as much as he could, he didn’t want it to end, he wanted to spend more and more time with you. Hearing you speak, hearing you laugh. He wanted to see you paint.

“Oh shoot!” You gasped, looking at the hour on the clock that was hanging on the wall.

“You need to leave?”

“Yeah…” You sighed. “Kento I really wish I could stay more but…”

“It’s okay, don’t need to worry.” He stood from his chair. “Just let me walk you away. Until you let me.”

“Oh…” You said in surprise. “Then accompany me to my bus stop.” You smiled.

He smiled back and you, taking all the courage on your body, grabbed his hand. You were flustered, you knew it but, nothing of that matter at the moment. You walked side by side holding hands as if you were a couple. Your heart was pumping hardly on your chest and your hands were starting to sweat.

Maybe he doesn’t like it.

On the other hand, Suguru was beyond happy and nervous. He felt like he was a teenager in that exact moment. Maybe it was all happening too fast? He didn’t know, but there was something that connected both of you, in a way he couldn’t comprehend.

“This is my stop.” You said pointing at the stop.

He nodded and looked down at your hands. “I guess it’s a goodbye.”

“Your number.” You mumbled.

He looked at you and shook his head. “I don’t have a phone.”

“Oh that’s…” Strange. “Okay, don’t worry.” You smiled.

“I will still go to the coffee shop.” He smiled back.

“That’s good.” You were nervous. “Then… I will see you tomorrow Kento.” You started walking off but you felt him grabbing your hand once again.

“Wait y/n…” He whispered. “There is something I need to tell you.”

There it comes, he was married or had a girlfriend or something like that. It wasn’t possible for a man this handsome to be single. You couldn’t believe it was going to happen. Damn it.

“My real name…” He swallowed trying to find the words. “My real name is not Kento.”

You opened your mouth and closed it several times, you were confused, to say the least. “Huh? Then what is it?”

“It’s…” He seemed hesitant.

Suguru hesitated, was he going to be able to say it. To say the name he hasn’t said in the last 1,000 years? But maybe if the curse didn’t affect you, he could say it.

“Suguru…” He did it, the words came out of his mouth.

“Suguru…” You repeated and Suguru felt like crying when he heard his name on your lips. “That’s a really pretty name.” You smiled. “Then Suguru, it was a pleasure to meet you and eat with you.”

“It was the same for me y/n.” He smiled.

“I will see you tomorrow Suguru.”

And unintentionally, you let go of your hands, separating yourselves and saying goodbye with a wave. Suguru saw you board the bus and smiled at him from inside. He felt his heart warm up again with every smile you gave him.

You boarded the bus and waved goodbye to Suguru. Suguru. You repeated his name in your head over and over again, feeling your heart swell each time you said it.

The bus started moving, and you watched as Suguru's figure became smaller and smaller in the distance.

Resting your head against the bus window, you began to think about the "date" you had with Suguru. It was strange that Suguru had hidden his name and given you a false one, but for some reason, it didn't make you feel insecure or intimidated. In fact, it only fueled your curiosity to learn more about Suguru. His mysterious aura intrigued you, leaving you yearning for deeper connection.

As the bus rumbled on, your mind drifted back to your encounter with Suguru, each memory and conversation was being replayed in your mind, vividly.

Despite the ambiguity surrounding his identity, a strong bond seemed to have formed between you, as if destiny had orchestrated your meeting.

You wanted to know more about him, to see him again, to know what he was hiding behind those tired eyes.

Once you arrived at your stop, you advanced with a firm step to the place where you were going. You were going to present one of your works to be evaluated and perhaps obtain a job. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you felt your hands shaking more and more as you got closer to the art gallery.

Outside the gallery you saw Shoko, smoking a cigarette. When she noticed your presence she threw it away and smiled at you.

“You are here!” You hugged your friend.

“I'm scared to death, Shoko.” You cried a little.

“You will do well, the painting is impressive.” She rubbed your back, giving you the security you were missing.

“Have you brought it?” You asked, to which Shoko nodded her head.

You both headed towards her car, where the painting that you would display was stored with great care.

“You don't know how much I appreciate you bringing it to me.” You sighed. “If I had had to bring it on the bus, it would surely have been damaged.”

“No problem.” She shook her head, not caring. “I'll wait for you outside.”

"Don't you have to work at the hospital?" You said, grabbing the painting carefully.

"Not today, today is my day off." A smile appeared on her face. “We can go have something to drink later, we can call ‘Hime to come over, if her schedule allows it of course." She shrugged. “And Yuki, she's still out, right?”

“Yes, I don't think she's back yet. That's fine with me.” You smiled. “Then I'll see you in a bit.” You said turning on your feet.

“Good luck!” Shoko yelled at you from where you had left her.

Resolutely grabbing the painting, you opened the door to the art gallery and entered with your head held high and your step firm.

On the other side of the city Suguru walked with a calm step, as he usually did. But this time with a new warmth in the chest. Being able to share with you, even if it was just lunch, had made him feel alive.

He looked at his wrist and remembered the warm touch of your hand gently surrounding his wrist. The smiles you had offered him and those ten freckles that decorated your face. Yes, Suguru had counted them and had wanted to memorize them perfectly.

Arriving at the place where he spent his afternoons, he sat in the same place and contemplated the same view that he had been contemplating for months. With the breeze blowing against his face and moving his hair, he closed his eyes and began to think.

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

— over 1,000 years ago

Suguru was on the hill of the town, while in one hand he grabbed a stick he had found and made drawings on the ground. He was bored.

He had done every task a 6 year old could do and now he was on that hill completely alone and bored. There wasn't much to do in that town and children his age were also helping their parents, so he only had to wait for someone to get him out of the boredom he felt.

“Suguru!!” A voice called him from a distance.

With a smile on his face, Suguru stood up from the ground and threw the stick away from him. Running up the hill, his best friend went up. His white hair was easily visible from a long distance and his cry calling him had probably been heard throughout the whole town.

“Satoru!!” Suguru said happily as his best friend reached him.

The little boy leaned on his knees, trying to catch the breath that had escaped from his lungs after running up the hill.

"Guess what?" Satoru looked up, regaining his usual energy. Suguru shook his head indicating for him to continue. "Today I went with my father to a village and there was a river on the way. And there were tadpoles in it!"

Suguru looked at him strangely. "Tadpoles?"

Satoru nodded. "It's where frogs come from!" Suguru opened his mouth in surprise. "My father let me bring some and we left them in the pond at my house. My father says that then frogs would come out." Satoru grabbed Suguru's hand and pulled him along. "Come on, I'll show you!"

The two children ran down the hill. The townspeople were not surprised to see them together, since, since they could remember, they had both been together. Crossing the streets, the two children arrived at Satoru's family home and approached the small pond there. Satoru letting go of Suguru's hand, crouched down and put both hands in the water and then showed them to his best friend.

“Look." He nodded. “Do you see the black things?” Suguru nodded. “That will then turn into frogs!” Satoru said with excitement.

"How?" Suguru asked, wanting to satisfy his intrigue.

Satoru shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to answer. “I guess they will become strong and transform into frogs.” Suguru nodded. "Like you and me!" Satoru exclaimed, leaving the tadpoles back in the pond. “We will become strong and we will become the strongest!” He raised his fist. “We will serve the emperor as the strongest warriors.”

“I doubt our parents would like the idea.” Suguru sighed in resentment.

“But once we are older we can do as we please.” Satoru smiled. “We will leave this town and become the strongest together.” He stood up and stretched out his hand for Suguru to grab.

Suguru looked at the hand and then at his best friend, in his eyes he could see determination and bravery, and that gave him infinite confidence.

With a smile he grabbed the hand of his best friend and nodded. “We will be the strongest warriors!”

“Yes! The strongest!” Satoru replied.

“Don't even think about it!” A voice interrupted them.

"Mother!" Satoru protested. "You can't stop us, Suguru and I will leave this place and become the best warriors in the world."

“You are too small to know what you want.” Satoru's mother scolded them. “You don't know what dangers there are. Spirits, curses and worse.”

“Mom, those are children's stories.”

"No my son, it's real, it's better that you never join the emperor's army."

“Is that dangerous, Mrs. Gojo?” Suguru asked.

“Yes Suguru, so please don't do it.”

“But it won't matter because Suguru and I will be the strongest ones and we will be able to handle everything.” Satoru smiled arrogantly.

“This kid…”

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

As Suguru looked towards the horizon, memories of the past still lingering in his mind, he couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation wash over him. The sunset in the distance served as a poignant reminder of the passage of time.

With a deep sigh, Suguru knew it was time to return to the present, to the reality that awaited him at "home." Although the past had its own appeal, he realized that thinking about what could have been would only serve to anchor him in a perpetual state of longing and regret.

As he walked away into the sunset, Suguru took a moment to focus on the present moment, to appreciate the beauty of the world around him and the possibilities that lay ahead. The fleeting memory of your face crossed his mind as he thought about the future that awaited him. And a smile appeared on his face, because for the first time in centuries, Suguru harbored some hope in his heart.

Final notes: I know somethings might seem rare at first but then they will make sense, but if I say something it would be a spoiler. Also don’t ever be surprised if I call Suguru by mistake Satoru, bc sometimes I’m writing TFB and I go “Satoru said” and I’m like “shit this is not Satoru this is Suguru!” So yeah

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