#well said and i love the tags so there they are

[aliceoseman]

Heartstopper S3 Q&A weekend!

Hello everyone! I don't usually use this blog to answer questions, but I've been wanting to answer some of your questions about season 3 of Heartstopper, and I figure this is probably the best place for it!

It's nearly 2 months since the release of S3 and I'd love to go on a deep dive with you all. I always feel like I don't express myself very well in interviews, so I feel more comfortable getting to express myself in the written word here! You may have questions about characters, relationships, themes, production, music, animation, and more... I shall try my best to share some interesting behind-the-scenes trivia!!

Please keep your questions relevant to season 3 of Heartstopper - I probably won't answer them if they're about anything else!

The ask box will be open from now through this weekend, so you have about 2 and a half days to send your questions. I'll answer what I can, probably slowly over the next week or two! I won't get around to answering everyone's question though, I'm sorry in advance! You're welcome to share the answers on other social medias if you'd like to.

If you don't want to see Q&A answers and are simply here for the fan art, please block the tag 'heartstopper s3 q&a'.

*

Also, just to get a few FAQs out of the way:

Season 4: I don't have anything more to share about season 4 right now, I'm sorry! As I've said, we're working incredibly hard to make it happen, and there's nothing else I can say about that at the moment.

Bloopers: Are coming soon, but I don't know exactly when!

Deleted scenes: I'm not currently sure whether there will be deleted scene releases.

*

Thank you so much for your support for the show! I look forward to chatting with you about season 3 of Heartstopper!!

[bunnys-kisses]

on top of the world

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, post-las vegas gp (2024), pregnancy/pregnant!reader, tender & gentle sex, established relationship,

a/n: congrats max for another wdc!

max wrapped you up in his arms and held you tightly. he kissed you on the side of the face with such love. such affection, there was a fire to his kiss, the after burn of a heated race. he came in fifth this weekend, but he was just that good that he managed to get enough points to secure his fourth world champion!

and when max pulled away with misty eyes. the thrill of the wdc never damped. he smiled brightly at you and said, "i won the wdc."

you swallowed and in the heat of the moment replied, "and i'm pregnant." you wished you could've taken the words back, but instead max just kissed you once more. your legs felt like jelly as you clung to him. wrapped up in one another, but max's grip loosened on you. after all, you were pregnant.

"you're pregnant." he said as his hands trailed up your sides once you were in the privacy of the hotel room. during every interview with what felt like every news network in the world. not only did he want to talk about his win, but the growth of your family.

you traced your hands down the front of his red bull branded t-shirt, "remember why we were so curious why jimmy, sassy and donatello were always hanging around me?"

he nodded as he undid the buttons of your blouse.

"the entire weekend i felt sick in brazil and we chalked it up to something not agreeing with me." there was another nod from your boyfriend, "and then when you put your face between my breasts and i always yelled because they were so tender? yeah... i'm pregnant."

he looked at your face and then your middle. he patted a hand across the soft flesh and licked his lips, "you're serious, right? no joke?"

you held his face in your hands and looked into his blue eyes, "max... maxie... my love. i took five of them. i'm pretty sure it's impossible for all five to be false positives... when i head back home i will get the blood work done."

he beamed at you and pulled you in for another heated kiss. soon you were pulling at the shoulders of his t-shirt. his hat was flicked off onto the floor and with a bit of help you were both soon completely nude on the bed.

he looked amazing, even post-race. he was well showered and out of his driving clothes. but, he still looked flustered from the heat of the race, and even though it was so late into the evening. you both couldn't sleep, not while your brains were running a mile a minute. he admired you, loved you as his hands spread across your form.

"you and i made a baby, huh?" he said as leaned down and kissed your stomach, how much it would change while you carried his child. his kisses continued to trail across your body and you felt a shiver of euphoria through your system as he got between your legs. his cock stood at full attention and he wanted to map out every inch of you skin. as much as possible. he wanted to feel the love of his life as much as he could, to worship your body.

"yes, that's what happened." you giggled as your combed your fingers through his dirty blond hair, "that's usually what happens when you have unprotected sex." you smiled then kissed him when he rose his head.

"i hope you know, i'm here for you and our baby, okay? i'm not walking out, no, never." he nodded earnestly, even though there was no doubt in your bed. it was sweet for him to confirm it for you. you pulled him into a searing kiss and got him onto his back with you on top of him. you spread your hands across his broad chest, you could feel his racing heartbeat.

you rubbed your hands up and down his chest as you pulled away. you looked down at him before you slowly sank on his cock. before he could say anything you replied, "we'll go soft. no need to get too worried there, mister verstappen." you moved your hips slowly against him and he tensed up for a moment at the feeling.

max knew you were going to be his wife, he was certain anyone at the team could see that. the way max held you and kissed you. the infamous maxplaining about you and your own accomplishments. while you weren't a superstar driver, he wanted everyone to know that you got your master's degree. he simply hadn't popped the question so your last name could on every degree you earn. but that might have to change a little prematurely with the news that you two were expecting a child. he groaned a little as he felt the circulation of pleasure through his body. the rise and fall of your hips as you made love to him.

both of you still running off the high of the race and of the victorious news. you moved a little faster, but he slowed you down. he panted, "i want to feel you, all of you." he swallowed back a heavy moan as he moved against you. he admired every curve of your body. you were his, all his. the two of you were going start a family. be a family. one thought crossed his mind, he'd need to go ring shopping.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

you continued to work his body slowly, feeling every each of one another. max's hands tickled you a little and your giggles made his pulse leap. you could feel the circulation of pleasure in your brain as you moved against him with such affection and love. you loved max, you loved him more than you could put into words. there were no words in any language that could describe your affection towards the man. your man.

your bodies moved together. but it wasn't fucking, it was making love. you were enjoying each other's bodies with heated want while you moved against him lovingly. you moaned a little louder when the pleasure started to creep up through your body. you leaned in to kiss him once more as you moved your hips. you braced yourself on his toned chest and moaned deep into the kiss. that seemed to excite max as he held onto you a bit tighter. not tight enough to bruise. but, enough to be protective over you. over his beloved woman.

when you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his and giggled, "soon we're going to have to find new ways to do this." then kissed him on the face.

"i'll take you anyway i can, my love. anyway you'll let me have you." he shuddered at the feeling of you. the two of you moved against one another during heated kisses and you could feel the pleasure spike in your body. when you broke the kiss, he said, "i won this all for you. but i think you upstaged me." he chuckled lightly, his cheeks dusted with pink, "i was going to come home with the world championship, but you were to come home with our child." he kissed you again, "i guess i'd rather be beaten by my wife than anyone else."

you felt a rise in you from his words, only to spur you on with slow but steadier movements. you raked your nails dwon his pale chest and whispered praise towards him. it wasn't erotic so much as intimate. how much you loved him, how much he meant to you. "when i see your eyes, i feel the future, max. and not just trophies and fast cars. i see a home, a life, a family." and he shuddered at your words. you knew how to make him feel so comfortable, safe and sound.

you marginally picked up speed and knew you weren't going to last much longer. you kissed him deeply as you rode him perfectly. your pussy fit perfectly, and he loved the feeling of you around him. cunt around his cock, hands on his chest,t he weight of you on his hips as you moved against him. everything oozed with perfection and made his heart stammer.

the two of you continued, the kisses only furthered. you held onto him tightly and with a few more movements of your hips. you clamped down around him and came. you moaned deeply into the kiss and let the pleasure wash over you.

max felt a similar feeling and while you rose through your orgasm. he finished inside of you as well. mindful not to be too rough with you. you two kissed more as you felt up his chest and he felt up your hips. you stayed seated on his cock for a few moments while you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on you.

but a night of euphoric highs led to emotional crashes that left you sleepy. soon you got yourself off of him and laid next to him on the king sized bed. you were panting heavily. max was playing with your left hand, especially your ring finger.

you smacked him on the chest with that hand while you laid out on the bed, "and no, max. we're not getting married in vegas." then looked at him, "we'll do it right... plus i'm certain your sister and my sister would kill you."

max just beamed and pulled you into a tight cuddle, "fair, fair, mrs. verstappen."

-

you told very few people about the pregnancy, especially not the press. people did notice the slow down of photos of you on max's social medias as you got further along.

one fan wrote online, "maybe they broke up?"

another said, "he better not embarrassed with her now or something stupid like that!"

you found the comments endearing while you were in your home in monaco, the cats still gravitated towards you. with the newest of the bunch always finding their way around your swollen middle. max did take photos of you, every chance he could. but, those were for his private collection as the following season started to wind up. while you would've loved to be there, the swell in your middle was only getting more obvious.

"you better facetime me." your lover wagged his finger at you.

"not if jimmy lies on top of my phone and i lose it for an hour." you giggled before you kissed max on the mouth. it was hard to see him go, especially when any updates about your child with him were over text and calls. it was hard.

he would eventually post a photo after a mysterious absence from social media around the summer break, "going to win a fifth world champion for you the way i won the previous four for your mama." and that answered every questions fans had. the photo was max holding his son with the stupidest grin on his face.

and by the end of the 2025 season, he had secured a fifth victory. for you, for him and for the son you both loved dearly <3

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal 2

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, prisoner!Sukuna, dead dove, descriptions of violence including murder and child neglect, dark romance trope

Synopsis: Sukuna is in prison because of you. He’s ordered to undergo weekly counseling sessions. Talking to his counselor about you, it's apparent that his obsession with you is quite concerning.

An: You guys ate up session one 🤭 Hopefully session two can live up to the hype.

Session one. | Session two.

It was criminal how the counselor had actually been looking forward to his next session with Sukuna. They had ended on such a cliff hanger with their last sessions, talking about your first word to Sukuna in sixth grade — “please.”

The guards shuffled Sukuna in. His massive stature still clad in a blue jumpsuit as he plopped onto the couch without a care in the world. “Miss me, doc?” Sukuna asked with a crooked grin.

The guards slammed the door shut, locking and barricading it with a metal rod — as if it’d stop a monster like Sukuna.

He was in a max security prison. While the prison didn’t necessarily want the counselor to get hurt, if Sukuna was ever tempted to run… Well… they’d just take their chances on hiring a new counselor.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” The counselor noted as he fumbled with his pen. He was still nervous to be counseling the troubled individual, but he felt a weird sense of security as well. It seemed all of Sukuna’s victims had stemmed from an obsession with you, so in theory, the counselor should have nothing to worry about.

Sukuna glared at the counselor as he fumbled with his pen. He hated the clicking sound, but he gritted his teeth to bare it. He was in a good mood today. There’s nothing he enjoyed more than talking about you, and while he didn’t believe in this counseling bullshit, he enjoyed reminiscing about your past with him. “Yeah, whatever.” He shrugged as he slumped his body against the couch.

“We ended off last week with mouse saying her first word to you.” The counselor said, completely skipping complimentary words. He wanted to get right back in to the nitty gritty.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a feline smile as he kicked his feet up on the table next to him. “Her voice was unlike anything I had heard before. It was just barely a whisper, weak from not being used enough.”

“What made her talk to you?” The counselor asked, completely enthralled in Sukuna’s story.

This time, Sukuna let out a small laugh, remembering the memory as if it had happened yesterday and not several years ago. “Mouse use to wear her hair in these pigtail braids when we were younger. I wanted her to talk to me so desperately that I finally grabbed ahold of her braids, and I pulled on them, telling her that she had to say something in order for me to stop.”

“So, you hurt her?”

Sukuna’s eyes cut towards the therapist as the air in the room went stale. His feline grin was no more as he was now scowling at the man across the room from him. “I wouldn’t consider a bit of hair pulling to be hurtful. Mouse didn’t either.” His tone was low, nearly a growl. He clearly didn’t take the accusation too lightly.

He had been convicted of heinous crimes, and he had also been accused of a few more that they didn’t have enough evidence to charge him with. Sukuna drew the line when it came to you though. He’d be the monster they drew him out to he in the press — never to you though.

The counselor gulped harshly, reminding himself to not get too comfortable with Sukuna. He shifted in his seat a bit, but he said nothing to try to discount what the criminal was saying.

“As I was saying,” Sukuna hissed lowly as he got back in his comfortable position. “She was cute, whining to try to get me to stop. It was hard not to, especially when she gave me that pout. When she finally whispered the word ‘please’, I remember feeling like a fire had lit inside me. She was so vulnerable. She needed me.”

“I let go of her hair, and I made sure to braid it back for her since it had gotten a bit messy from my incessant pulling. Her hair was always so soft, and she smelled so sweet.” He spoke slowly, reliving each moment of you two in sixth grade together. His heart ached for you.

“Did she start talking to you then?” The counselor prompted, wanting for Sukuna to continue.

“Sure, if one word answers count as talking.” He let out a dry laugh as he looked up at the ceiling. His jaw line and neck were well defined and sharp — the looks of a true predator. “Mouse was quiet, reserved. She didn’t need words to convey her feelings or thoughts. I could usually tell what she was thinking before she could.”

“I immediately noticed when there was a change in her demeanor.” Sukuna’s voice shifted to a darker tone. The light left his eyes as he remembered a particularly troubling incident between you and him.

“A change..?”

“She didn’t have to say anything. There wasn’t any marks, but I could just read her like a book. She came to school one morning, and she looked like she hadn’t slept at all. She tried to give me that polite smile she gave everyone else, but I wasn’t buyin’ it. I knew something was up.”

The counselor leaned forward, furrowing his eyebrows as he listened closely. He wondered what was going on with you and how this transpired into Sukuna becoming deadly for you. “What did you do..?”

Sukuna grunted as he adjusted his position on the couch. “It was the first time I followed her home. Her house was nice, but it was anything but happy inside. I heard her dad yellin’ inside. Her mom was screaming right back at him. They went at it for far too long. I knew it wasn’t a good place for mouse.”

“So, I tapped on her window until I caught her attention over the screaming match.” His gaze lowered to the ground as he had an almost thoughtful smile on his face. “Mouse was scared — an easily frightened thing. I convinced her to crawl out her window with me that night. It’d be the last night she slept in that house alone.”

The counselor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion from Sukuna’s words. “How did that play out with her parents?”

The prisoner gave a cocky grin with a small shrug. “Her dad was most time not there or too drunk to notice. Her mom felt so guilty about the fighting that she never said anything to mouse. Every night I came to her window, and she either crawled out with me, or I crawled in to be with her.”

The counselor silently pondered for a moment. It seemed like the unhealthy attachment between you and Sukuna wasn’t one-sided. It seemed like you both needed each other like you needed air.

He took a deep breath as he was reminded of one of the warrants for Sukuna’s arrest. His first murder victim was allegedly your father, but Sukuna wasn’t necessarily convicted of it. They hadn’t had enough evidence, especially since you and your mom adamantly refused to give any statements to police.

“You’re thinkin’ about her old man, huh?” Sukuna asked as if he could read the counselor’s mind. He propped his elbow up on his knee, and he held his jaw with his hand.

“Did you do it? Kill him, I mean?” The counselor asked, even though he wasn’t sure that he wanted the answer to that question.

“Is this protected underneath patient confidentiality?” Sukuna asked. Sly bastard.

“Since you don’t pose a current threat to yourself or the community,” His counselor let out a breath of defeat, “yes, it is.”

Sukuna’s grin widened, and he relaxed back into the couch. He looked more tense when he talked about your troubled days than when he talked about the literal murders he had committed.

“Mouse was asleep on me late one summer night. If I remember right, we were teenagers by then. We were in her bed, and it was probably around the early hours of the morning when her dad came stumbling in. He kept making a fuss, trying to wake up the whole goddamn house.” He started on his story, and the counselor didn’t dare to interrupt.

“He walked into her room, and he started yelling at me to get the fuck out of his house. I told him that if he woke up mouse, I’d kick his fucking teeth in.” Sukuna started to laugh. His skin felt like it was buzzing with energy from remembering that night.

“Mouse started to stir, and when she woke up, that fucker tried to drag me out of her bed. He tried to take me away from her. When I got ahold of him, I dragged him outside of the house where mouse and her mom wouldn’t hear him scream. I made good on my promise.”

The counselor furrowed his eyebrows slightly as his stomach turned. He didn’t necessarily want to ask for more details, but his morbid curiosity got the better of him. “You kicked his teeth in… How did that lead to him dying?”

Sukuna laughed heartily at the therapist’s question. “You really don’t know a thing, do you?” He asked rhetorically. “I made that bastard bite down on a tree branch that had fallen on the ground in their backyard. He was so drunk that it was barely a fight, and when he bit down, I used my foot and-“

“Okay-! Okay! I got the image now…” The counselor spoke up quickly, waving his hands out in front of him. Sukuna got a real kick out of the counselor’s suddenly squeamish behavior.

“Ryomen! Get your ass out here! Your time is up!” A guard yelled loudly from the other side of the door, using his fist to loudly pound on the metal.

Sukuna was still laughing as he stood up off the couch. His massive frame easily took up the room when he was on his feet — the true embodiment of intimidating. “See ya next week, doc. Maybe I’ll finally get to tell ya how I made mouse mine.”

With that, Sukuna left the counselor’s office.

Tags: @catladythoughts @pinky0328 @coldluminarykoala @lemonlimecrystal-blog @san-it-is-i-guess @kunasthiast @nonamevenus @ecliipzed @jup1tersuccubus @gojodickbig @totallygyomeiswife @gremlinartstudio @tojislittleprincesss @jaybirdluvr73 @emyyy007 @b3bybunny @unofficialsapphire @thequeenofcurses @canecomplex

[eminella]

not going to even try and write this in the tags because tumblr has a stupid freaking word count on tags, so ok, anyway

this was so freaking good, so well written, AAA, im screaming

“dude, don’t you have any rizz?”

literally recoiled from my phone and gagged

Gojo you are so stupid i love you

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.

this is great subtility

kudos to you OP

“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—”

so real on the manwha part

sighhh

“are you one of those girls?”

Omg YES

YES GOJO

PLEASE SIGN SIGN HERE

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.

AAAAAA

SO CUTE

SO ROMANTIC AAAA

I LOVE SPIDERMAN MASK KISSES 😭😭😭

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. 

i love their relationship

ugh, young love

im obsessed with their dynamic

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.

AHAHAHA

i love this

(i know I've said that ^ a bunch of times but i really mean it OP)

“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.”

hehehe

love my boys all desperate and pathetic

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?”

ugh this bastard

hate him

(gojo i love you)

infect me with your love

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

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

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

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

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

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

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.

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

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

that is, until gojo satoru.

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

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

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

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

but then, the door creaks open behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…what can i get you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and yet, here you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you said to surprise you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“you know, i didn’t get your name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i really can’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“as you wish.”

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

you’ve seen him before.

okay, pause.

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

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

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

alright, pause over. back to now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nice hit, by the wa—”

“it’s you!” you exclaim. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“let me get that for you.”

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

gojo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

that day at starbucks, though.

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

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

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

what was it again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no.”

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

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

“how is it complicated?”

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

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

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

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

“well, when you put it like that—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

“rough night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“from?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you should do that more,” he said.

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

“laugh.”

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

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

“is that right?”

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

“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“take my mask off.”

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

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

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

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

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

“gojo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you trust me, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“and yet, you’re still here.”

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

“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do what?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your breath catches. “satoru…”  

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

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

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

you nod, and then his lips are on yours.  

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

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

that’s when he freezes.  

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

your heart drops into your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

then it comes again, a little louder this time.

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

satoru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for once, you thank the gods that he listens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

nestled right against his morning wood.

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

oh, say can you see—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru just tied you up using his webs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

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

plspls pls comment and reblog!!!

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

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

@creamflix

[comatosebunny09]

defense(less) zone | sylus

— summary: it wasn’t until your friend returned with a third glass that he noticed something was…off. the woman—tara, he believes her name was—pat him on the shoulder as she strode past. “have a good night, mr. skye,” she drawled, leaving sylus to ponder what the hell that meant. — cw: aphrodisiacs, written with female reader in mind, awkward boners, stupid humor, alcohol consumption, accidental intentional drugging, profanity, sylus in-heat, sexual content, mdni — notes: here's half of what you asked for. once i finish up with my other wips, i'll revisit this one. thank you so much for reading! — tags: @leighsartworks216 @world-of-hearts @queenofstresss @cheshireworld @beewilko

Sylus knew better.

He knew after the third time you warned him not to touch the grog that it was imperative he listen.

Sure, he teased you about it. “I assure you, sweetheart. I know how to hold my liquor.”

The sharp look in your eye held a warning. “That’s not the problem.”

He chuckled with his hands thrown up in mock surrender. You were being a killjoy, sure. But he heeded you, avoiding the table that held the concoction of spirits like the plague.

Until…

Well, your friends—they were so lovely. Equally as insistent, shoving drinks and hors d'oeuvres into his hands while you were off socializing.

It was your fault for leaving him alone. You were the talk of the ball since you’d stepped foot in the venue with Mister Tall, Dark, and Devastating. Naturally, when you left his side, your friends swept in, buzzing about like hoverflies.

They bombarded him with questions, swooned over him, complimented him. He was used to the limelight. This level of attention. But it hit differently when people weren’t kissing his ass because he was a kingpin.

He found his defenses melting into the floor the more they talked to him, and it was easy for Sylus to understand why you acquainted yourself with them. They were lively. Disarming. Dangerous.

One of your lady friends sidled up to him with a glass of something ominous. Light pink in color, and it swirled and glittered like a nebula. Its acrid scent should’ve been enough of a ward. But he didn’t want to be rude. And he wasn’t a bitch, so he drank it, ignoring its harsh edge. He needed to blend in. Show you he could drink like a sailor and still carry you home by the night’s end.

And…maybe he was being a little impressionable.

It wasn’t until your friend returned with a third glass that he noticed something was…off.

“Thank you,” Sylus said, the glass poised at his lips.

Your friend watched with mischief painting her features. That didn’t bode well. Sylus threw back the last drink, placing his glass on a waiter’s tray passing by.

The pair stood in uncomfortable silence—Sylus smiling warily with a hand stuffed in his pocket and the young lady refusing to look away as a Chesire grin split her face in twain.

The woman—Tara, he believes her name was—pat him on the shoulder as she strode past. “Have a good night, Mr. Skye,” she drawled, leaving Sylus to ponder what the hell that meant.

The rest of your coworkers followed suit, slowly trickling away to the dancefloor. As Sylus said his goodbyes to the last of them, the room started to teeter, and his chest grew heavy as if weighed down by lead.

Sylus massaged his temple, trying to blink away the sudden bleariness. There was no way in hell he was drunk. Not this early in the evening, and not after a handful of watered-down cocktails.

He scanned the room. Caught your eye amongst the sea of revelers. You raised your champagne flute to him in greeting, a quiet smile rounding your lips. This ball was important to you—an opportunity to create a lasting impression on your new superiors. Sylus would kick himself if he spoiled it. So, he nodded.

But he learned to regret that simple gesture soon enough.

He stumbled forward a step or two, and the marbled floors below swam. What the fu—

Shaking his head, Sylus’ eyes flit to you to see your brows pinching with concern. You looked like you wanted to tear through the crowd to get to him. He smiled to lay your worries to rest, mouthing, ‘I’m alright.’

Seemingly satisfied, you spared him another apprehensive look before returning your attention to the woman before you who’d ensnared you in conversation.

Sylus wasn’t exactly sure what was amiss with his body. Just knew he was growing hot beneath the fibers of his tux, and the hairs at his nape were pasted to his skin by sweat.

He wended through the crowd, taking long strides towards the restroom. Maybe a splash of cold water would draw him back to sobriety.

On his journey, he caught sight of the punchbowl you’d steered him away from all night.

He swallowed past a lump of barbs in his throat, quickening his pace as a familiar swirl of pale pink gleamed condescendingly at him from within.

—

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty.

He inspected himself in the mirror, his large hands on either side of the sink bowl to keep him upright.

He’d broken out with a fine sheen of sweat. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Why the fuck was it so hot? And why was his chest burning like that, the sensation slowly puddling in his stomach?

Sylus turned on the faucet. Cupped his palms beneath its languid spray, splashing water onto his face. He slapped his cheeks, willing himself to get his shit together. Despite his efforts, the lights of the men’s room continued to spin and blur, and he struggled to keep himself afloat.

He winced at his reflection. Took a deep breath, mouth hanging open when he exhaled. He looked flushed. Unkempt. The veins of his neck visibly throbbed, and he felt the beginnings of a headache seeping in. Could he really not hold his liquor?

“Hey, man!” called a boisterous voice from behind. It was followed by a clap on Sylus’ shoulder, and had he been anyone but himself, he would’ve barreled into the wall. A growl roiled in his chest, and he cut his eyes at the intruder.

The guy in question—one of your coworkers whom Sylus spoke with earlier—draped an arm about his shoulders, studying both their visages with a drunken cant to his lips.

“Great party, huh?”

Sylus could only grunt, his throat slowly constricting, and his wits scattered about.

“You alright, man?” he queried. “Not lookin’ so hot there.” He studied Sylus’ side profile a moment longer before a knowing foxlike grin crept over his lips. “Aw, dude! You get a hold of the grog, too?”

Sylus felt the color drain from his face.

“Yeah, man. That shit’s lethal. Don’t know what they put in it this time, but I’m harder than a rock!” The room erupted with his raucous laughter directly into Sylus’ ear. He proceeded to palm himself, playfully wiggling his hips.

Sylus wondered how long you’d give him the silent treatment if he committed murder tonight.

“Take care, man,” the obnoxious asshole bellowed, patting Sylus a little too roughly between his shoulder blades. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Sylus tracked his movements to the door until it swung closed behind him, blotting out the swell of noise beyond. He bowed forward, his forehead colliding with the glacial surface of the mirror—a welcomed contrast to his inflamed skin.

“Fuck,” he rasped, hanging on by a thread.

They spiked the grog. They spiked the fucking grog. He’d had three glasses of it, and whatever was in there disrupted his senses and made his pants grow unbearably tight. That would explain why everyone was so nauseatingly happy.

Your visage flashed in his mind. Made his body pulse, and he crumbled with grit teeth.

He knew you’d be up his ass when you found out.

In his defense, you left him to the wolves. To those jackals you called friends.

—

He finds you in no time. Sniffs you out like a bloodhound after he gave himself a lengthy pep talk in the bathroom.

“Sweetie,” Sylus calls from behind. Eases a hand down the curve of your spine. You shiver. Damn your dress for having such a devastating plunge. For boasting your pretty skin like that.

You’re so soft here, he thinks, dragging the backs of his fingers up and down the ripples of your vertebrae. The scent you carry is lethal. Floral and sweet. His eyes nearly pitch into the back of his skull when he gets a whiff, toes scrunching in his dress shoes.

You peer at him over your shoulder, a soft smile to your lips. Toy with your necklace. Very demure, very docile.

“There you are,” you purr with that thousand-watt smile, your voice honey-smooth. He feels it pooling in his lower belly. Bites his lip against a pathetic sound threatening to make itself known.

Over your shoulder, he gives your company a curt, dismissive smile. Perches a hand on your hip, drawing you back towards him to spin you around. He then leads you to a spot devoid of people, away from the strobing lights. His palms clasp around your arms, thumbs cruising over supple skin.

“What’s up?” you whisper, pressing a concerned hand between his pectorals. His Achilles Heel. His heart beats a war cadence against you. He might just take you here if you’ll let him. Split you nice and open.

Alarm meddles with your features at his silence. At the violent tremor of his heart. Your brows furrow, and your lips quiver. “What’s wrong, Sy?”

God, you’re beautiful, even when you look all concerned. He traces a languid triangle between your bowed lashes and lips. Wants to kiss you so fucking bad. Smudge that pretty lipstick down your chin. Slide his hand between your thighs and make you sigh his name in front of all these people.

His dick throbs.

Fuck. Focus. Stay focused.

“Sweetie,” he tries again, swallowing thickly. His eyes are at half-mast. He’s trying his best not to sway—not to look like a bumbling idiot, but whatever’s in his system has him seeing double.

You jet into mom mode. Gently grab his wrists, the feel of your digits branding his skin, wrenching a needy sound from his throat. “Sylus, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

He debates on telling you the truth. Turns it over like a record in his mind, weighing the pros and cons. Feels silly, like a child admitting to rifling through the cookie jar.

A wave of vertigo hurtles into him, reminding him of his plight. He teeters forward, catching himself at the last minute. Angles closer, his breath stirring your baby hairs.

“I…might’ve indulged a little.”

“Huh?” you ask, rubbing up and down his arms. You smooth his hair away from his forehead, behind his ears. Gather his cheeks into your palms, and he burns like an inferno. “The hell does that even mean?”

He tries his best to roll his eyes. For someone so gorgeous, you can be incredibly daft.

“The grog, sweetie.”

“The grog…” There’s a faraway look in your eyes.

He watches the gears turn in your head before realization descends on your shoulders. Whatever concern you held for him sloughs off, replaced by mortification. The world eases by in a Gaussian blur, every sound a muddled mess to his ears.

Suddenly, you’re shoving at him. Pelting his chest with half-hearted jabs, and he stumbles back. Bad idea. He catches your hands, holding on tight to keep himself afloat.

“You drank—you drank the fu—”

Glancing around, you haul him towards an alcove. Push him up against the wall none-too-gently, forcing a grunt from his lungs.

“You drank the fucking grog?”

Uh-oh. You’re whisper-yelling. He’s in for it now.

“Yep.”

“After I told you, like, thirty times not to?!”

“Yep.”

“What the fuck, man!”

He’s swaying again. Plasters on a silly grin. It’s comical, watching you quietly panic.

“To be fair, your friend fed it to me.” He motions to something off to the side with a tilt of his head.

You pick up on his cue. Tara’s not too far off, waggling her fingers in a way that bleeds mischief.

“Unbelievable!” you sigh, scrubbing a frustrated hand down your face. “I can’t leave you by yourself for two seconds.”

You’re clearly upset. He doesn’t mind catching strays. Couldn’t dodge them even if he tried. So, instead, he takes hold of your hands to calm them. Tugs you closer, eyes a bleary shade of burgundy. 

“What’s done is done, sweetheart. How we next choose to handle this is what matters now.”

You give him a look. A once-over, painting a sharp line down the slope of his body. It is then that you catch sight of him—hot and turgid against the stitching of his trousers. A knit forms between your brows. You look like you want to scream-slash-cry.

“That bad?” you ask. Your disappointment from before abates, replaced by something of concern. He chuckles, and it’s an effort on its own. 

Sluggishly, he directs your hand to the cusp of him. Groans something filthy and bitten-off, eyes screwing shut. He bows into you, a bead of sweat trailing down the ridge of his Adam’s apple. 

“That bad.”

[mono-dot-jpeg]

inextricably bound - viktor, jayce

summary; stuck in a plane above all else but at least you're together

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, bad jokes?, a dash of angst?, czech viktor, jayvik are canon fuck whatever christian linke was saying, just two bros being soulmates in every timeline and they're each others everything (but not in a gay way am i right chat /j), god forbid two dudes be canonically gay in every timeline, sorry im pissed off, im coping with jayvik being gone, OOC jayvik??, i dont know how to write for jayce well, jayvikreader poly sloppy toppy (jk), it's like implied that reader just got pulled in and doesn't know the dramatic moment they had n the astral plane before finally making up., headcanon that the astral plane is almost like being in limbo for death or reincarnation

[reader's gender not specified or mentioned]

word count; 808

a/n; can you tell im mad that there are jayvik non believers? like hate them all you want, but you can't just say that they were just bros and im glad most of the fandom can understand that. am i absolutely greedy for viktor? yes, but im not taking him away from his literal soulmate/twin flame/whatever the fuck gay shit they got going. also i feel like this isnt my best work but anyways enjoy :)

empty.

that's what being in the astral plane feels like. but it's calm. most of your body is engulfed the stars that you once looked up to. now you were part of that. not as a star but as a being. your face is illuminated a white gold shimmer.

"love?" a voice echoes and before you know it, two familiar faces are close to yours.

"vik? jayce?" your voice echoes in the listless space. and it's only then do you register how.. normal they look again.

despite the stars that cover their body and shimmering light of the ethereal, they look like themselves. it was the viktor and jayce you knew. your hands move, your body floating as you hold viktor's face.

"it's you. viktor.." the mentioned male looks at you, guilt and love in his eyes. jayce's hand rests on the small of his back, a silent encouragement for the shorter man. "it's you.." your voice trembles. viktor can't look you in the eye until jayce's hand gently nudges him, and it's only then that he sees the absolute love pouring from your eyes. "i should be more concerned that we're stuck here, but fuck.. i missed seeing you."

you can't exactly cry in the astral plane. your tears end up sparkling and twinkling away and become part of the galaxy you've been pulled into.

"miláček.." you don't even realize how much you've missed his normal voice until now. even if it did have that ethereal echo, it was still him. your viktor. your forehead presses against his for just a moment.

"you... i have a lot to say, but let me be happy for just a moment." viktor tenses at your words, but he relaxes in your touch. you pull away to give jayce the love you missed giving him.

"jayce.. you did so well. more than well. i don't know everything of what you experienced, but you never gave up. didn't know i could be more thankful for you." jayce smiles brightly at your words as you hold his face between his hands in appreciation.

he looks at you with that look he used to give you and viktor when things we once normal. that silly lovesick grin on his face, but you know he can't express how thankful he is for you and him. "i missed you so much, too. you have no idea." he said softly.

"now, with that out of the way, what exactly happened?" the two men look at each other before slowly explaining how everything started and ended with them. and they definitely ended it, seeing as they were taken here by the crystal that jayce held so dear to him. "but why am i here then? i mean, it makes sense for you two to be here. you're basically soulmates."

"don't say that, miláček. we love you too. whether you're in this timeline or not." viktor said gently, floating to you and holding you in his arms. "we won't allow you to think so lowly like that. especially when jayce is around. and especially because that line of thinking does not seem to do well for us. my insecurities blinded me to want to fix everything to a dangerous degree.." he confesses.

"you’re ours whether you like it or not. and it's not like we can find a way to leave here." jayce smiled softly, his large arms wrapped around yours and viktor's shoulders. he hugs you two close, not missing a moment to hold you both in his arms.

"i guess it was really meant to be when i said you're both stuck with me forever." you joked, kissing them on the cheek. "but we're really stuck here?"

after your kisses, viktor starts giving his share of kisses. "it would seem so. not that i'm complaining." jayce joins in on the sweet kissing session, making sure to give as much as he could before you or viktor start telling him to stop. echoing laughter rings out in the empty void. the cold of the astral plane could never make you shiver when you were with the men who did nothing but give you warmth.

"maybe we'll just reincarnate. do you believe in reincarnation?" you asked between kisses. they pause for a moment, contemplating your words.

"eh.. well, i'm sure it wouldn't be crazy to believe in reincarnation." viktor said with the slight tilt of his head, his look silently conveying his uncertainty but uncaring of it.

"if we do get reincarnated, i'll make sure to find you two before anything else." jayce whispered, his face firm with determination and love.

"that's so sweet. and sappy." you laughed lightheartedly.

the two men can't help but join in with their own laughter and just for a moment, the stars twinkle a little brighter as if joining in on the joy.

[zweetpea]

Yandere Batfam X reader p2

Feat. the batfam! (Jason, Dick, and Barbara)

Part 2 of this!

Will be making a part three with Echo's birthday!

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if you weren't tagged for some reason pls comment and i'll figure out how to fix it

You had been dropping Echo off for about half a year now. 

For some reason every time you had dropped echo off Damian was the one who answered the door, despite the fact that he hated you. He even once told you that he’d rather have a wanted thief as a step mother than you.

Regardless, today he wasn’t the one to open the door. It was a tall man who had jet black hair in a hairstyle reminiscent of MatPat. He was rather muscular and had big blue eyes. He just stared at you with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. His outfit was kind of basic: just a white tee shirt, a blue racer jacket, and some navy blue jeans.

“Um… hello?” You pulled Echo closer to you while the tall new man stared at you awkwardly.

“Hi… Hi! Uh, hi! I’m Richard but my siblings call me Dick.” He smiled nervously and held out his hand to shake.

You ignored his hand. “Well, siblings can be cruel.” 

Dick suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Heh, yeah.”

“So where’s the terror tot?” You said monotonously. 

“You mean Damian? Him and Bruce left for a gala in Switzerland last night.” He smiled shyly at you.

You facepalmed and sighed. “Why didn’t he tell me?” You pouted, very annoyed at your baby daddy.

Dick sensed your anger and tried to distract you. “Well Bruce asked me and Jason to look after our sister!”

You stepped back slightly. “Sister?” You tilted your head cautiously. 

“Hold on! We're doing what?!” Another man popped in from the doorway. He was slightly taller than Dick and had dark black hair with a long strip of white and blue eyes. He was wearing a worn-down bomber jacket, a black t-shirt and black ripped jeans.

Dick glared at him. “We’re helping take care of our little sister, JASON!”

He looked at you and propped one arm above his head against the door frame. He smirked at you and chuckled. “Oh so you’re the lovely lady Bruce can’t shut up about. Though I can’t exactly blame him. If you were mine I don’t think I’d ever let you go.” He looked you up and down with hooded eyes.

You and Dick gave him disturbed looks. Dick was the first to speak up. “Jason, stop being disgusting!” Dick smacked him on the back of the head.

“Can you blame me? She’s a beautiful woman! And she’s far too young for Bruce.” Jason looked at his older brother bored and slightly irritated. 

“I’m standing right here you know!” You growled, very vexed.

Jason smirked again. “I know. How about you come inside and keep me company.” 

She handed Echo over to Dick. “I’m late enough as it is. If I keep this up I’ll have my pay docked.” She turned to walk off.

“I have a trust fund! You could be my sugar baby!” Jason called from the doorway. 

“You are so disgusting.” Dick glared at Jason. 

Jason scoffs. “She’s hot. Plus I’m not wrong! She’s way too young for Bruce.” 

Dick brought Echo in and set her on the couch. She had gotten used to the place thanks to Damian so she didn’t cry without her mom. She did try to crawl away when Dick started to scold Jason. She almost fell off the couch when a certain redhead caught her.

“You both are idiots.” Barbara held Echo under the little baby’s arms.

“BABS!” Dick came over and gave her a side hug before taking Echo. “When did you get it?” 

She smiled. “Alfred let me in through the service door.” She had her hair tied back like usual and a green turtle neck sweater. She flopped herself on the end of the couch near where Jason was standing and smirked at him. “You boys would be lost without me.”

Jason glared at her. “Oh shut up!”

“Jason, be nice. We could really use the help Babs.” Dick sat next to her.

“I know.” She giggled. “So this is Bruce’s latest pet project?”

Jason sat perpendicular from them in the recliner. “You shoulda met her Ma, Barbie. She was a smokeshow. Way too hot for Bruce. In fact, I believe it’s my duty to take her for myself to make sure Bruce doesn’t get canceled for this inappropriate relationship.”

“JASON STOP!! You’re being inappropriate!” Dick scolded.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up! I saw the way you were looking at her! You act all high and mighty but you actually want to do exactly what I’m saying!”

Dick blushed and looked away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jason and Barbara could tell he was lying from the way he furrowed his brow. “She’s Bruce’s. He already called dibs and I’m not going to go behind his back. And you know what? I’m going to make sure you don’t either, JASON!!”

“Fine! Fine. Let’s just take care of the kid.” Jason grumbled and leaned his head against his fist, resting against the armrest of the recliner.

Barbara looked at him. “She’s not just a kid. She’s your sister.”

“Whatever!” Jason threw his hands up.

A little later Echo started crying so the three of them took her into the Kitchen.

“So what do babies eat?” Dick asked.

Jason shrugged. “I have some burritos from last night.”

Dick looked away thinking for a moment. “Well Echo can’t have solid food so you’ll have to put it in the blender.”

Jason shrugged. “If you say so.” He picks up Echo.

“THE BURRITOS NOT THE BABY YOU IDIOT!” Dick screamed. 

Barbara ripped Echo out of his hands. “Idiots, both of you. She left instructions for how to help Echo feed.” Barbara gave Echo her bottle and she started to suck. The littlest Wayne drank every last drop and Barbara burped her.

Dick smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “Wow! You’re amazing with her! You’re a natural!” 

“Thank you, Dick.” Barbara leaves to put Echo into her nursery. 

A few hours later you come to pick up Echo.

“Uh, Hello.” You grabbed your baby from Barbara. “It’s nice to see that she was in actually capable hands.”

Jason gasped. “Dick and I are plenty capable!”

You deadpanned at him. “Maybe so but Barbara was the first person in history to be awarded the Wayne Institute of Technology’s Scientific accolade while she was still in high school. I was very impressed with your work, Miss Gordon. Keep it up and someday you’ll be running Wayne enterprises for sure!” She shook Barbara’s hand and walked off with Echo.

Jason smirked and nudged Dick as Barbara was left their star struck. “I’ll share her with you.”

Dick looked down at his younger brother. “Deal.”

[ariiadnes]

ଓ.° ・ arthur morgan. red dead redemption 2. note: female reader, is referred to as 'missus'. arthur is drunk.

you truly weren't sure what to expect when hosea informed you that lenny and arthur were, in fact, very much inebriated-- ah, well, that was the kind and proper way to describe it, hosea said. you also weren't sure why you were so insistent this time around on tagging along and getting a certain outlaw home yourself; you knew he'd always find his way back to you, come hell or high water.

"honey bun," you say, words quiet and nearly drowned out in the chaos of the saloon, "i think you drank too much."

your touch is as tender as ever, hand gently pulling on his as you carefully, albeit clumsily try to drag him out of the building. you can see lenny laughing loudly in the corner, hosea sighing as he pats the younger gentleman on the back. you can't help but smile at the nonsense, though it falters the moment you feel arthur let go of your hand.

"...sorry, miss." he mumbles, half coherent. "i got a beautiful missus waitin' at home. can't be doing anythin' like holdin' hands."

you tilt your head, brows furrowed in slight puzzlement. must have drank more than usual, you assume.

"...arthur morgan."

"...yes'm?" he suspects you won't let up-- he's preparing for some incomprehensible ramble to shoo you, and you're very well aware of this-- as much as you'd love to hear it, you're a little tired, and you'd like to just go to sleep and be held by a certain cowboy that you love dearly.

"i am your missus."

you both just stare at each other, amusement meeting cluelessness, confusion, and...ah-- there it is. you smile when his eyes seem to brighten up at the sudden realization and recollection that you are, in fact, his.

"...so you are." he says. "well, i'll be damned. lucky me." he mumbles.

you roll your eyes, holding your hand out, the curve of your lips growing ever so softly as he gladly holds it.

"lucky you, arthur morgan."

[waynes-multiverse]

Hi, I first wanted to say that I’m a big fan of your work, I’m constantly rereading your fics and they have really helped me escape from my busy Uni schedule. I was hoping you could write some smutty head canons about dean, no pressure ofc. I hope you enjoy your day and thank you for taking the time to create and post fics for people like me who need a way to escape their hectic lives.💕

Aww, thank you so much, lovely! I gladly support the escapism 🥰

Sorry this took me so long! I was on a bit of a break there, but I was so excited to get into this. God knows I have so many headcanons 😆

Hope you’re doing well and hope you enjoy this 🤍

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18 for some smutty content (duh)

Main Masterlist || Tag List

Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean

Dean is very hands-on, which means he’ll touch you whenever he can, even if it’s just a hand on the small of your back while you’re pumping gas or walking into a bar.

This also means he takes PDA to a whole new level. He teases you under the table when you’re doing research in the library or eating in the kitchen. He weaves his arms around you when you’re doing dishes. He trails kisses down your neck while you’re cooking.

Especially while you’re cooking. Something about food just turns him on. So much so that every once in a while he stands in front of your door with some whipped cream, chocolate sauce, a cute wiggle of his eyebrows, and a giant grin, begging you to be his dessert.

Sam is mostly annoyed by his brother’s indiscretions, though. Too many times (almost every damn day) Dean has walked into the kitchen in nothing but his gray robe and announced his morning wood to you, not seeing Sam sitting in the corner. That’s when Sam usually folds his paper, takes his coffee, and hurries to the library before Dean’s hands find their way to your body once more.

Sam suffers the most, however, if there’s only one motel room available and the three of you have to share. Dean has zero self-control (and also doesn’t care what Sam sees or doesn’t see). While he cuddles you, he holds you so close to his body that it’s hard to breathe. And again, hands and lips – they wander. Constantly. The man doesn’t possess an off-switch.

It got so bad that Sam has established a rule that the two of you are not allowed to share a bed anymore and Dean has to take the couch for the night. But as soon as his little brother has dozed off, he crawls right back into the warm comfort of your bed.

Speaking of rules, Dean loves breaking them. If there’s a sign that says “Do not enter,” you can be sure as hell he’ll shove you in there and will enter you. For Dean, there’s no such thing as bad timing or an inappropriate place. He even breaks rules that don’t exist and are just common sense like, “Do not have sex in a museum while you’re breaking into said museum.”

And while he loves breaking rules, he also loves following them. Especially when it’s “sexy rules.” He loves when you playfully push him around, when you shove him backwards onto the mattress and tell him what to do. He will smirk at you giddily all the way through and be the best damn boy you’ve ever seen.

Overall, he’s curious about your fantasies and constantly asks you want you want to do. He enjoys it when you take the lead in the bedroom and loves to see what you come up with. He loves being underneath you and watch you ride him with his bottom lip tugged behind his teeth. It barely hides his huge grin. He loves to see your tits bounce from this angle. According to him, it’s the best goddamn view in the world – forget the Grand Canyon.

However, when he’s had a bad day or a rough hunt, he actually likes to be in charge. It all depends on his mood. But taking control of you helps him cope with the things he can’t control in this world. So whenever he comes home with tense shoulders and a tightly creased brow, you know you’re in for a treat.

When he orders you around with his deep voice and sharp tone, you melt into a puddle and only all too happily oblige to his every command. Your legs grow weak when he dominates you with just a look. God, he loves the way you whimper and squirm underneath him, loves how you moan his name when you’re on all fours in front of him, and loves how your lips feel around his cock when you suck him off.

You love to give him comfort in whatever form he pleases. And Dean loves that you trust him with all your heart – and he knows to never betray it. He will always respect your limits, even though he gently pokes them sometimes, testing how far he actually can go.

Sometimes he bends rules like he bends you.

And truth is, he can go pretty fucking far. There’s not much you won’t let this man do. His dirty mouth can convince you to do all kinds of things – things you would for sure refuse if anyone else was asking. But it’s Dean, and one look of his sparkling green eyes will have you on your knees for him.

But honestly, Dean is the same kind of whipped for you, too. He will do anything for you, short of moving actual mountains. Massages, hot baths, ice cream at midnight? He’s got you covered and doesn’t expect anything in return, except for your unconditional love. He’s got it either way, but you do have to reassure him sometimes.

Dean’s a giver, not a taker, so you do have to force him sometimes to ask for the things he wants. But boy, when he gives, he goddamn gives with both of his massive hands. After he’s done with you, there’s not a single inch of skin left on your body that hasn’t been worshipped. You always come first – literally.

Dean takes pride in making you cum, and it doesn’t matter with which body part of his he does it. They are all equally skilled – his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and his dick. He eats you out and fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, because you both know in a life full of monsters, there actually might not be one. He makes every night and every day count.

Then, there’s his mouth. It should be no surprise, but it’s goddamn filthy. He could make you come with words alone, and not rarely, he sure likes to try. A lot of times it’s stuff you haven’t even heard, dreamed, or thought about until Dean’s said it and put it in your goddamn head.

And yes, Dean’s very sexual and a great lover through and through. He enjoys sex, but most of all, he enjoys going to sleep and waking up next to you. He loves cuddling with you on the couch during a movie, he loves holding you close at night, and he loves that special moment when you’re both coming down from your highs and are still connected, bathing in the afterglow.

Dean has been so touch-starved all his life that he enjoys the little things. He loves when your fingernails caress his back and massage his scalp. He loves using you as his freaking pillow. At this point, you’ve learned not to drink too much water before bed, because you know you won’t be able to escape his prison of strong arms – not that you’d ever want to (unless you really do have to pee).

I honestly could've went on and on and on with this one... 😂

MORE HEADCANONS? 👉 Put 'em here.

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TAGS:

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@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @snowayumi

[hwonnrinji]

THE FIRST SNOW

kim minji x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : you were in a long-term relationship with minji since the start of high school. after graduating, minji broke the news that she's going back to canada. a long-distance relationship wasn't an option, so the next best thing was breaking up. you were still in love with her for a period of time but eventually started to move on– until you bump into someone on the street.

{ a/n } : tsbu lara fic hasn't seen the light of day since creation, i feel bad -v-

{ tags/extra } : 2 years after break up, lovers to exes to ???, light angst, hyein and reader are sisters, may or may not have projected a little

═════════

now playing : the first snow - exo

⤷ "if i met you,

would tears rise up?"

════════

═══════════════════════════

"Y/N! IT'S SNOWING!" hyein shook you awake while she rambled about the snow in excitement, pulling on your arm to go outside and see. you gave a half-ass protest but hyein insisted you check it out. "it might be one of the prettier first snows."

"hyein, do you have any idea what time it is?" you rubbed your eyes tiredly, the glare from the streetlights were rather annoying. the snow was as pretty as hyein said it was but you'd prefer to see it when you're fully awake.

"it's six in the morning," hyein answered. you turned to look at her, having to slightly look up to see her face. now that you're getting a better look at her, she's in her school uniform. "i have to leave for school in a bit."

"oh. i'll go get ready." as you were about to make your way to the bathroom, hyein quickly stopped you.

"it's okay, dain will pick me up."

your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you stared at her. "can dain drive yet?" seeing her tense, you sighed, putting your hand up to stop her from talking. "whatever, i don't care. just get to school safe and on time."

"why are you making it seem like i'll skip?" hyein pouted, clinging onto your arm.

"it's because you do. if you skip one more time, i'm sending you back to incheon with mom and dad," you warned. blood seemed to drain from hyein's face

"what?! noo, i like seoul," she whined while shaking your shoulders to take back your threat. you groaned, swatting her arms to let you go. "plus, haerin is the one driving."

"really? ok, have fun."

"hey! why are you suddenly ok when i mention that cat?"

"haerin value her studies so of course i trust her." you shrugged. a sudden voice called out for hyein down the street– more like a couple voices –signaling that her friends were here. "don't spend too much money on snacks, ok? love you."

"love you too, bye!" hyein rushed out of the house, turning the corner. you peeked your head out to see haerin's hyundai parked at the end of the neighborhood. you softly smiled seeing hyein run happily to her friends, reminding you of your high school years.

"well since i'm awake now," you headed back inside to get ready for the day, thinking about whether or not to go to class a little earlier than normal. since that's too much work, you decided to get coffee first.

~

your phone kept buzzing with endless notifications from god knows who, and while you tried to ignore it to admire the snow around you, a sudden call interrupted you. with an annoyed huff, you took your phone out of your pocket to see danielle calling. "hello?" you answered as you continued to walk to the coffee shop.

'did you hear?' she asked on the other line.

"hear what?"

'minji's back from canada.'

you paused for a moment, your lips parting in shock. minji, your ex that broke up with you two years ago to leave to canada, was now back in korea. "wait, i thought the move was permanent."

'it was never permanent?'

that little liar. "she told me it was," you said almost bitterly.

'really? before she left, she said she'd come back. look,'

danielle sent you a screenshot of minji's instagram story, the photo being her on an airplane with the caption 'back home.' you were absolutely furious, your hand gripping your phone so tightly that it might break. "she told me she wasn't coming back."

'maybe you remembered wrong? 'cuz that's not what she said to me nor haerin.'

"no, i'm sure. if she was coming back then we would've gone long-distance."

'y/n–'

"look, i don't wanna talk about this anymore. i'm gonna go." you didn't give danielle a chance to talk any further, your finger already pressing the hang up button. great. just when you were finally moving on, minji decided to come back. you shook your head and continued on your way. to say you were pissed would be the least similar way to describe how you were feeling. how could she lie and come back like nothing?

you finally reached your destination, your hand reaching out to grab the door handle until another hand appeared in front of you. "oh, sorry–" you backed up from the door but stopped midway once you saw who was holding the door.

"y/n?" god, you hated that voice.

"what're you doing here?" you asked with no interest, yet the sting in your eyes and the tug at your heart says otherwise. minji glanced inside the building before returning back to you, a confused look smothered on her face.

"getting coffee?..." right. it's a coffee shop. you fought back the urge to roll your eyes and cry at the same time, stepping back to let her go through. "you can go first."

"just go already." minji hesitated but reluctantly opened the door to go in first, pushing back the door behind her just enough so you can enter as well. you scoffed but didn't reject the offer, stepping inside to feel the warm atmosphere, a contrast to the outside. you placed your order quickly before finding a seat at one of the tables near the window.

minji sat in the seat in front of you, startling you a bit. her eyes seemed like she wanted to talk to you but you weren't sure if you were ready for that conversation yet. "can we please talk, y/n?"

"stop saying my name." you leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed over your chest. "you lied to me."

"it was the only option," she confessed. the sting in your eyes grew with each word she said. you ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the loose strands in frustration.

"only option? was i not enough to deserve the truth?"

"i didn't mean it like that..." her eyes were sad, practically begging you to let her explain. "i got accepted into a university in a toronto," she started, "i wanted to keep our relationship but i was going across the world. it would drive me insane to hear you say that you miss being held by me because, fucking hell, y/n. i'd miss it too."

your bottom lip started to quiver as tears welled up in your eyes, droplets falling down onto your lap. you're can't cry. not here, not now.

"i didn't wanna hear you say you wish i was there with you, i didn't wanna see myself crying in front of the bathroom mirror after calling you," minji continued on, "i didn't wanna have to pretend like i wasn't affected. so, i left."

"but why? why did you have to go? you could've stayed."

"it was the only university that accepted me. if yonsei accepted me then i would've." you sniffled, your hand coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. you hated yourself for crying at that moment. "i was young and naive, but now, i know what i want." she reached across the table, holding your hand dearly. "i want you. i want us to start again."

"minji, you can't just leave and come back to ask for a second chance."

"please, y/n, please. i'm still in love you and i'm sorry it took this long for me to realize." her pleas were convincing but you weren't sure if you should give in. "let us be us again."

"i... i don't know." you pulled your hand back, slipping out of your seat. you left minji sitting alone as you walked out of the building, too caught up in your emotions. you felt a firm hand grab your wrist and turn you back around.

"love, please–"

"don't call me that!" your chest rose and fell rapidly as tears streamed down your cheek. "no. you don't get to break up with me and then call me love." minji only stared at you, half sorry and half full of pity.

"please think about it," she begged. "text me when you have an answer."

"don't boss me around." you took back your arm, stuffing your hand in your jacket pocket. "hyein still hates you."

"i'm sorry."

"stop, just stop. your number is still blocked and i don't plan on unblocking you." your hands curled into fists in your pockets out of anger. "see you around."

- tbc -

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

im clawing at the bars of my inclosure for wolverine headcanons please please go crazy do whatever you want cause i am consuming content at the rate of a black hole and i love ur stuff but if you are in need of some guidance or ideas how about non sexual intimacy cause i go crazy(er) for that

This can be about any Logan really, and it should be gender neutral <3 I hope you like it!

As always request are open for both Logan and Bucky Barnes

Ways Logan shows love:

He is very much an acts of service type of guy

Words are hard for him sometimes, but doing things for people he cares about is a breeze

He does things that are so simple but really show that he loves you. Things like pumping your gas for you or driving you around. People drive crazy and you shouldn't have to risk your life to just get to the grocery it's no trouble at all for him to take you

Honestly, it's no trouble for him to do anything for you

Omg and he is skilled in many things! I mean he's lived many different lives and has tried many different hobbies and trades so he can do almost anything for you

You need a new bookshelf? He'll build you one from scratch

You're so busy you don't have time to make dinner? He'll bring you your favorite food in exchange of your books and laptop, you need a break anyways

Your water heater broke? Well obviously, he can fix it why waste the money on a plumber!?

He does begin to enjoy physical touch if that is one of your love languages. It doesn't have to be intimate, and honestly, after a while, intimate touch isn't what he seeks out. He enjoys knowing you're near. If you're near him, then you're safe

In the beginning he would flinch when you tried to cuddle, then after a few months he would wait for you to initiate the cuddle session that he grew fond of but after around six months of being together he starts to get more comfortable with asking for cuddles

Forehead kisses are his favorite. So are the kisses he leaves on the very top of your head

He was so used to changing himself to become whatever the people around him needed him to be, but with you, he figured out quickly that you just loved him. You loved Logan, not the Wolverine. After he figured this out, he started to allow himself to let walls down, to let you in, and he never regretted that decision

He would let you practice your hobbies on him. You wanted to practice a new type of eyeshadow look? He can sit still for you, no problem. You want to try a new recipe? He'll try whatever you make him happily

If you had a presentation at work or for a class, he would sit and listen to you go through it for hours until you felt prepared

Following that idea, he would listen to you talk about anything for hours. He loves hearing the gossip you've collected and if you need to rant, he will listen and tell you that you were right (even if you were so clearly wrong) because you do no wrong in his eyes

He praises you constantly! Like I said, you do no wrong. To him, you are an angel, and he truly believes that you can accomplish absolutely anything in your life

Overall, he just wants to make your life easier. You make him so happy, and you've become such a light in his life. Doing things for you is the least he could do

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

@slowlikehoneyyy

@brisinggamenwearer

[bunnys-kisses]

lovingly dominant

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/30s), size difference/kink, dom/sub dynamic, bdsm au, virgin!reader, light bdsm, praise (kink)

a/n: in a surprising twist, bunny has written call of duty again!! expect more cod stuff into december when the f1 season is over and it stops eating my brain <3

john price considered himself a little old fashioned. he thought it was better to have his birdie of the week on her back and rut into her until they both finished. he had no need for whips, chains, collars, and whatever else the world of bdsm had to offer.

but after so many missions and so many years, the pollution of combat bled into his sexual desires. he craved for control, near domination of his birdie. yes, they looked cute on their backs and their soft noises. but it looked far more appealing to keep her blindfolded, second guessing what was being done to her while price's filthy words spilled across her brain like wine on a white carpet. tainting her. tainting you.

most dominants loved a trained submissive. loved that they knew the ins and outs of the dynamic, tinkering to their liking. price on the other hand had a thing for over eager virgins. ones who got all their bdsm know-how from horribly written fan fiction. he liked to teach and guide, he liked to shape his submissive into the perfect image of what could be.

and when he met you, oh, well something else came up. an unwavering possessive need. price tried to not get possessive, this was all just a little game for sexual pleasure. but when he found out his little trainee worked at a flower shop, it was all over for him. it was only doubled down when you had your first meeting at a coffee shop and you got the most delicious looking slice of strawberry shortcake.

the cream on the corner of your mouth almost made john price lose resolve. instead he covered up with a cough before you asked, "do you want some, mister price." and who was john price to deny such a lovely girl her offer. you even fed it to him, a glimmer in your eye and gentle smile.

"it's lovely, baby girl." he said before he wiped a bit of the cream off his beard which made you giggle. that giggle seared into his brain and he knew that you weren't getting with any other man.

you met at his flat a few weeks later, and you were eager. price liked that. sex was only half as fun when the person he was fucking was almost having a good time. you came over in a big sweatshirt and jeans that were a little baggy, something that covered up. it made price curious as to what was hiding underneath.

"look beautiful, birdie." he said as he guided you inside and you got your sneakers off. you looked over at him to help you through the flat. you held onto him a little nervous, the only familiar thing in the place. price held you by the middle and let you press your face up against his strong chest.

he was in a flannel with a white undershirt and jeans. you could see the gold chain around his throat and the heavy chest hair. you had seen him naked from photos shared and he had seen you naked, but to feel it up close left a shiver of excitement through you. he leaned down and kissed you on the top of your head as he led you to the bedroom.

he said, "afterwards, i'll make ya some dinner. not the best chef, but, i can cook ya somethin' to replenish the energy you spent fucking me." he then ruffled your hair, which made your heart leap and he got you onto the bed.

you nodded meekly, you looked so small. so innocent. a girl like you should be on dated with finance guys or even the artsy kind. not a weathered, older military man like him. but even things in smaller packages can be surprising, just like when you took off your clothes and revealed a matching set of bra and panties. a soft grey colour with pastel yellow accents. it made price have to adjust himself in his jeans.

"ah, pretty girl got a surprise for me. how sweet?"

you nodded, "i wanted to make tonight special. good luck for a long... dynamic between us. so, you don't get rid of me if i suck." and soon you were in price's embrace while you still sat on the bed. your cheek pressed hard against his soft but firm middle.

he petted your head a little and said, "ah, don't worry, petal. even if you do bad tonight, i got every intention of trainin' ya. make you the perfect girl." the words spoken hit right to your core and when he pulled away long enough to strip down, you felt your eyes go wide for a moment.

a photo couldn't capture every inch of john price's skin. the scars, the tattoos, the hair, the muscle, the fat. he was like a big brown bear and it made you soaked. you shifted a little in your spot on the bed and rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. it was surprising that you were still a virgin, but you always chickened out. now as an adult, you wanted to just get it over with. but, you wanted to have fun. and why not have fun with a well experienced dom who wouldn't half-ass your first time. it didn't hurt that he had the kind of looks that would make any man with half a brain jealous.

"i hope i meet expectations." he chuckled as he put his hands on his hips. his cock stood at full attention and you swallowed. there was something so masculine about him, but not in a toxic way. he played with your hair once more before he patted your cheek, "no need to gawk, petal. i'm not goin' anywhere." and you swallowed. he chuckled before he got into bed with you and slowly unwrapped you of your lingerie like delicate christmas paper.

he hadn't been this excited to upwrap something since he got the toy firetruck as a kid. but in total fairness, you were hotter than any fire red truck. his hands grazed across your body with total tenderness and his hungry blue eyes gazed the skin.

the stretch marks, the moles, your own scarring. you were beautiful in ways that price couldn't describe. to compare you to something would be unfair to the thing being compared to your beauty. he took you by the wrist and kissed the center of it.

"this is a promise, petal. for as long as you keep me as your dominant and you my submissive, i with cherish you, adore you, and most of all. make sure that you cum over and over again." before he kissed you on the lips and got you onto your back. he admired you, "usually i like to take pretty things on their hands and knees. but, tonight's gotta be special, right, doll?"

you nodded.

he tapped your nose and said, "ah, ah, ah. that won't cut it. the words are 'yes, sir', got it? would hate to bruise that little behind during our first time."

you found your voice and said, "yes, sir." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek before price pulled away to rest on his knees to fuck you with just right. you felt heat course through your body as you took in the sight of him. burly, large from top to bottom.

course dark hair on his body, a little heft in his middle (but who didn't love that), a sparkle in his blue eyes, and hands large enough to break things between the digits. he admired you in return and said softly, "pretty little petal, yeah? ah, who let ya be so beautiful?" he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your slick sex, "i got so much to teach ya. how to tie ya up, how to gag ya properly. mmm, we'll have so much fun." he then pulled away to grab a condom from the nightstand. he held up the silver foil to you and said, "rule one, play safe or don't play at all."

you nodded and remembered to reply, "yes, sir."

price gave you a smile that lit you up and said, "good girl." then quickly got the condom on. he admired your soaked sex for a moment longer, "she achin' for me, huh? cute." then slowly, almost agonizingly, he inched into you and felt the spread of warmth through his body.

heaven was created with your pussy in mind. price was never a quick finisher, but he almost finished inside of you when he managed to get all of himself inside of you. he kept eyes and ears open, the type of examining done in his line of work, to make sure that you weren't in too much pain.

"ya alright?"

you nodded and swallowed.

price added, "baby girl. words." and then nodded his head when you replied that everything was okay, he nodded and said, "roger that." which made you pussy clench. a smile spread across price's face as he leaned forward. he captured your hands in his and pressed them to the bed under you. he chuckled lowly, "ah, someone likes a military man? a man in uniform gets ya goin'?" he kissed your pulse point, "ah, too cute, petal. i guess seeing that on my description didn't scare ya off." he rocked against you, "know it's a crime to mess up a man's uniform."

you swallowed, "sir. fuck." and felt the strike of heat through your body. you had to admit, you had seen a few photos of him in uniform. the beret, boots and all. and it made something turn in your stomach. only added an appeal to him that made you hot.

price replied, "i guess it worked out. because i like cute little civilians who are more than eager to make me feel good. doin' your civic duty makin' me cum, baby girl." these was a tension in his voice that made you heart hammer and your throat feel tight. the bed squeaked a little under the both of you as he continued his movements. he knew he was going to have an amazing time with you.

you whined, "please, sir."

"tell me. tell me what ya like about it? what gets my baby girl goin'? i gotta know, because maybe i can get somethin' together that'll rock your world." his words were hot and your cunt fluttered around his achy, hard cock. for a moment he was uncertain if you were actually a virgin, you took him so well.

you moaned when you felt a spark of pleasure in your core, your entire life had just been your hands and an assortment of toys. but to have price work your body beautifully was something else. you replied sweetly, "i... i want to thigh ride you in uniform." you felt a flush of embarrassment.

he chuckled, "oh that would be quite the sight, huh?" he continued to move against you beautifully, "i bet that i could make ya cum just from my thighs. rub your cunt all over it, messin' up the fabric. higher-ups will be wonderin' about the pussy stains all over the fabric. maybe if i'm lucky i'll get some of your wetness in my beard. let 'em smell you on me." and well, that excited you deeply.

you arched your back a little bit, but price kept you pinned perfectly under him. you tightened your thighs around him and he continued to work your body. it wasn't rough sex, but it also wasn't boringly soft either. he worked you at a steady pace, like a man with immense stamina. he eyed the bounce of your breasts and he moved against you.

he licked his lips at the sight of you, "baby girl." he purred, "you're a dirty girl. but don't worry." he soon held onto your wrists instead of your hands, a further act of domination, "i like 'em dirty. i like girls i can sink my teeth into. soon enough you won't be able to cum unless it's my fingers, tongue or cock in you. ya got the kind of soft skin that would bruise perfectly. but be careful, petal, i can be quite mean with a paddle." and it was met with a heavy moan. music to his ears.

you had never been spoken to like this before, but it excited you. you wanted to be price's dirty girl any day of the week. you felt excitement cross over you as he picked up the pace. the two of you fucked heavily and it left a taste of want in your mouth. this was better than anything you hoped for. it wasn't just that price checked boxes on a superficial level, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and moan. heavy noises came from your mouth as he worked your achy cunt, you felt amazing.

"ya like knowin' that i'm your first. big, scary captain makin' a mess of the sweetest cunt in the world. knowin' in a way, i got ya for life." he licked his lips. he liked that you were pure in that way, call him old fashioned. but knowing that he got to have you first was sort of like getting the first slice of cake at a party. something he wished to sweetly devour. and with you it was with heavy thrusts and filthy words. taint you to his liking.

you whined as you clenched your fists, you tensed up and he loved the feeling. he could almost read your mind with how sweet you felt. he could nearly feel your heartbeat as he fucked you. he loved the sight of you, you looked damn near perfect under him. you said between heavy pants, "please, sir. fuck, please!"

"feel good, petal? like how i take you." he moved against you further and it left him feeling the anticipation for climax. he continued to fuck your sweet body, working every last centimeter of warm skin, "remember, ya gotta ask me to cum."

his movements were overwhelming, his pace left you feeling breathless. and in your first lesson of intimacy, you croaked out, "can i cum, sir? please, i need to cum."

and price could be a giving man. he looked down at you, haze in those blue eyes as he said, "of course, baby girl. cum for me, cum for your captain." and swore under his breath as you beautifully came apart for him. he held onto your wrists tighter and groaned. it paired nicely with your sweet little moans.

"sir! fuck!" you gasped as you clenched around him. you finished and it only prompted him to move faster while you laid in such a blissed out state. no one had made you finish like that, not even your own nimble digits.

but price was just that good.

the bed creaked further and the headboard hit against the beige wall of the bedroom. he fucked you faster and made sure to cram every inch inside of you. with a few more heavy strokes, he finished into of you with a heavy groan. he fucked you through his climax before he slowed to a stop.

he wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply, "beauty, beauty. where has the world been hidin' ya from me." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips. you melted against him and moaned.

when he pulled out, he got up with a creak in his hip to throw out the condom before he was back in bed with you. you were both naked under the covers as price traced your form with his calloused fingers. the roughness on your soft skin made you shiver.

"how about it, lovie." he said in that low, gruff tone of his. his hand grazed across your side and behind, "how about i invite the boys over and their little birdies and we can have a little playdate. introduce you to the group."

you swallowed, "play... date?"

price pulled you closer. he held onto you the way someone would hold a stuffed animal. he smiled at you, "don't worry, petal. no one's gettin' their hands on ya. not while i'm still breathin'." his voice was tinged with a possessiveness. you nodded in response and he added, "besides, i know i'll make the boys nice and jealous with you." he chuckled, "my beautiful baby girl." then kissed you on the lips.

you could only imagine what would happen at a playdate with price's friends and their submissives. it also didn't help that it made you a little excited as well. <3

[gilbertscurls]

heyyy i love your writing a lot like obssesed but like i have a request where matt and nick talks about how they know from the beginning chris loved the reader even tho he used to deny it all the time

i hope you like it!! <3

obvious — chris sturniolo

Chris always rolled his eyes whenever Matt or Nick would bring it up. For years, they’d been relentless with their teasing, their sly smirks and knowing glances whenever you were around. Chris would always brush them off, claiming they were imagining things. But tonight, sitting on the worn couch in their living room, Matt and Nick weren’t letting it go.

“You’re telling me you never noticed?” Matt asked, leaning forward with a smirk that screamed mischief. “C’mon, Chris, you were so obvious. From day one.”

Chris scoffed, sinking deeper into the couch. “I wasn’t obvious. You guys just love stirring up drama that isn’t there.”

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, it was there, alright. The way you used to act around her? It was like watching a middle schooler with his first crush. You could barely string a sentence together when she walked into the room.”

Chris crossed his arms defensively. “That’s just because I was caught off guard! She has... an intimidating presence, okay?”

“Intimidating,” Matt repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You mean gorgeous, smart, and the only person who could make you shut up for five seconds.”

Chris rolled his eyes again, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Nick grinned, sensing victory. “And let’s not forget all the little things you’d do. Like offering to drive her home, even when it was completely out of your way. Or how you’d ‘accidentally’ make too much food just so you could invite her over to eat.”

Chris groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are ridiculous. I was just being nice.”

“Sure,” Matt said with a laugh. “And ‘being nice’ includes learning her favorite coffee order and bringing it to her every other morning?”

Chris opened his mouth to protest but found himself coming up short. Because deep down, he knew they were right.

Nick leaned back, his grin softening. “You might’ve been in denial, but we saw it clear as day. Even when you were pretending she was ‘just a friend,’ the way you looked at her said everything. You were gone for her, man.”

Chris fell silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. For years, he’d convinced himself that his feelings weren’t obvious. That he was being careful, keeping everything under wraps. But maybe he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought.

“She’s not just... anyone,” Chris finally admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s different. She makes me feel... I don’t know, like I want to be better. For her.”

Matt smiled knowingly. “We figured that out a long time ago, bro.”

“And we knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it out too,” Nick added.

Chris sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well... better late than never, right?”

Matt and Nick exchanged a look before Matt clapped Chris on the shoulder. “Exactly. Now go tell her, genius.”

Chris didn’t need to be told twice.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike

[fushiguruuzzzz]

ᥫ᭡ A Strangers Heart

𝄞 “I think it’s strange you never knew || A stranger light comes on slowly || A strangers heart without a home” — Mazzy Star

Playlist — that minx ! 🍓 | Moodboard

Itadori Yuji x Fem!Reader

Words — 9.6k

Cw — mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, mentions of catcalling, strangers to reluctant friends to lovers, no animal death I changed my mind but forgot to remove the tag oops, foul language, leads are both 16, a 20yo hits on reader he’s creepy asl, reader sort of inspired by Kat Stratford, aesthetic is Maxine minx inspired, not proofread, lmk if I missed any !!

Another summer, another hick on your farm desperate for an extra buck. Except, this time, something’s different. It isn’t just some douchey, approval seeking suck up chasing your father around and spending his extra time hoping you’ll hop on something other than your horse. This one’s different. And when late night bonfires and early morning horse rides turn into something more, what’s a girl to do with only a few weeks left?

a/n — ik most people lwk don’t fw Yuji like that but PLSSS give me a chance…. I’m not even that attracted to Yuji I just love him sm he’s so silly. I had to write a cute lil (not so lil… oops) farm Yuji fic :(( honestly my first ever fic that’s more than 2k words but I yapped hard here. Don’t judge chat don’t judge!!!! If u read this I’ll kiss u on the mouth I promise

By definition, summer was that warm chunk of the year spent basking in sunlight, free of the stress that came with education and growth. It was cold beer and campfires and sleeping from dawn to dusk, being awake at the call of the night. Everyone always talked of their vacations, their countless hours spent at the side of their friends (if you could even call them that, it was more so anyone that they could gather up) with no regard for responsibility at all.

In a way, your personal summer was as said. But simultaneously, it was far, far different. To you, summer was stargazing and picking strawberries and riding bareback through the forest. Summer was the thrill of driving down the gravel road, screaming as loud as you wanted to. It wasn’t like you were disturbing anyone, anyway. Nobody was around for miles, aside from the crazy old couple living by the church and the Kugisaki family, whose youngest was usually in your passenger seat. It was the crimson tint left on your lips after a long day of lounging and snacking on the cherries you’d picked up from the market just the day before. Summer was blissful, free.

Summer was also fucking annoying.

With every summer came more activity on the ranch. Your father was a simple man, he could handle his own farm, but sometimes things got too much. The summer brought on more horseshows, more wild animals itching to sink their teeth into the livestock, and the sticky uncomfortableness that came with every move. So, the staff consisted of just a few more people. The year rounds were you and your father of course, as well as two of his close friends. More your uncles than anything, if you’re honest. Occasionally they brought their wives or their kids, and if they were chill enough, that wasn’t a bother. Others came and went, barely spared a second glance by you. The one problem came with summer, the need for an extra set of hands bringing excuses for more pests to wriggle their way into your peaceful farm. The summer workers.

It was only one or two boys, only two months of the year, but they had much more of an effect than one would assume. Your father was a wealthy man, he was generous with his pay. When word spread of this –as much as it could in this scattered excuse of a town, at least– the power hungry assholes scrambled for their place. Usually it was aspiring cowboys decked out in shiny buckles and enough leather to make you a new back seat, hoping that doing well enough would get them on your family’s good side, get them “in”, as they said. It never worked. Your father may seem arrogant, but he isn’t stupid. It’s easy to see a peacocks intentions when it bares its feathers at you.

Often times, when they realized that their consistent efforts weren’t doing much good, they chose another form of preoccupation. You. You and your babydoll tops and sunkissed skin and bows in your hair that seemed to work in your deceit were often a target of various wolf whistles and not-so-creative rewording of asking what colour underwear you were hiding beneath your jeans. Even when they were warned, told stories of what happened to the rest of them, they persisted.

“Don’t be fooled,” they’d been told. “She’s tough as nails. She’ll stab you with ‘em, too. Ever wonder why she hangs around that Kugisaki girl?”

Fools.

It wasn’t your fault, really! You can only take so many catcalls, so many sly comments laced with thick southern accents until you find them looking conveniently punchable, and then you’re washing your knuckles of a red substance, either strawberry juices or blood depending on the day. It wasn’t like you didn’t make a point to avoid them, in fact, you might even be considered harsh for it. Better to be safe than sorry. You always ended up sorry though, somehow. As they lay on the ground below you (hopefully not in the manure pile) clutching their ever so precious faces, you almost feel a pang of sympathy. But then a profanity falls from their lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you remember who you’re looking at.

“New intern starts today,” your dad says, glancing up at you from the plate of sausages and pancakes you’d thrown together for him. You felt a need to groan, and for a moment you were convinced you’d let it slip, your father raising a brow and giving you a pointed look. “Don’t hit this one with your car.”

“I told you that was an accident, daddy!” you rolled your eyes, letting your fork fall onto your plate with a soft clang. Your shoulders slumped, letting out a huff of disdain. He simply shook his head, though the just barely hidden curl of his lips didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Sure,” he said. “Accident or not, any more blood hits this property, you’re in shit. We can’t keep trusting they won’t call the cops.”

Yeah, sure. You doubt the police would do much anyway, they barely existed out here, let alone acted. Though you knew arguing was pointless, so you pushed your pride to the bottom of your priority list and nodded.

“Yeah, ‘kay. Stop hiring assholes and we’d have much less problems, though.”

“Hmph.”

𓍼

“Another one?”

“I know. I’m surprised they keep comin’ with how they all end up leaving,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips. You tossed your head back, shutting your eyes and letting your face bathe in the sunlight. You were sprawled out over a heap of hay, the compressed cubes scratchy against the exposed skin of your limbs. It dragged over the bottom of your thighs with every movement, kneading into your hair if you weren’t careful enough.

Nobara eyed you, her expression mirroring yours. Considering the two of you were pretty much attached at the hip, she’d gotten to see all of the reality TV worthy strategies you’d come up with to rid your farm of the parasites known as farmhands. There weren’t many people around these parts of the country, you could count two neighbours, only one whose house you could spot from yours. So that one neighbour having a girl your age was a luckily miracle, your friendship was fate. Not to mention you actually enjoyed her company, too.

“Hey, maybe you’ll get lucky this year. Maybe it’s a gentleman come to sweep you off your feet and whisk you away to the city, make you a housewife,” she grinned, orange hair shining in the sunlight as you met her eye.

“You and the city,” you rolled your eyes, picking a stray piece of hay and lazily tossing it at her. “As if.”

If there were any differences between you and Nobara, that was the largest one. She longed for the city, was desperate for it. You were sure the moment she got the chance, she’d pack up and leave. She was a city girl at heart and everyone knew it. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content with your little farm life and intended on keeping it that way. It had always been that way.

“Forgive me for not wanting my cause of death to be a horses foot,” she grumbled, though no real malice lingered in her tone. You shook your head, shook off her words.

A comfortable silence settled over you, the distant whirring of tractors and the pounding of hooves against dirt fading to background noise. You gazed out over the field, the stables parallel to the barn the two of you were leaned up on. Then, you noticed something. An unfamiliar head of hair, attached to a boy who was holding the reins of a horse, leading it towards the building you’d been looking at. Had it been brown or black you would’ve paid no mind, but it was pink. Was that natural?

“Well, there he is.”

“Our mortal enemy for the next two months.”

He paused, seeming to feel your eyes on him. He turned, spotted you, eyes narrowing as the bright sun shined into them. And then, he smiled. It was big and bright and warm, a stark contrast to the wolfish, greedy smirks you were used to receiving. His eyes crinkled at the sides, his irises almost as welcoming as his grin. You felt something odd in your chest.

He was still your enemy. You were sure. Just… maybe he was worth giving a chance.

𓍼

The sifting of dirt beneath your feet made a soft sound as you walked, doing little to warn the salmon haired boy of your presence. You came to a halt behind him, and you were beginning to think he was a little too spatially unaware to work on a farm, because he still didn’t turn around. He was busy tending to the horse, gently brushing through the chestnut fur. You had an urge to clear your throat, but the guy was unaware either way, so you chose the more efficient route.

“What’s your name?” you asked, your voice cutting through the otherwise quiet atmosphere. He flinched, head turning in your direction all too quickly. Upon seeing your face, his guard seemed to be let down, a more relaxed expression taking the place of the startled one from moments earlier. He was silent for a moment, seemed to be caught in some sort of trance. Only when you cocked a brow in question did he realize, a somewhat bashful grin on his lips.

“Oh- I’m Yuji. Itadori. You’re… Mr. [l/n]’s daughter, right?”

You gave a nod, somewhat curt. You didn’t want to waste your breath being too nice, not if he was going to be like the rest of the piggish teenage boys hanging around every summer. Truth be told, you weren’t mean, just guarded. Especially with men, you’d grown a sort of buried resentment towards them, as much as you hated to admit it. That was a story to later be told, though.

“That’s right. You’re here for the summer, yeah?” you asked. It was better to be sure you were correct about his role here, to prevent looking stupid in the case that you were somehow wrong.

He nodded. “Hey, you’re my age, aren’t you?”

“Sixteen?”

He nodded, his cautious smile turning to a full grin. You could basically hear his thoughts jumping out of his mind, screaming at you.

“That doesn’t make us friends,” you said, hip popping out to the side as your arms crossed over your chest. “Just so you know.” Why did you feel such a need to push him away? Were you always this defensive?

“Eh?” He gazed at you for a moment, eyes narrowing a fracture as if he were figuring you out. His hand had stilled, the brush now resting pointlessly against the fur of the horse. “…okay,” he shrugged. Though for a moment, it was like he knew something you didn’t. That sparkle of determination in his eyes was all you needed to see to know exactly what his motive was.

𓍼

The moment Yuji Itadori set his eyes on you, his purpose for the next two months was set in stone. This goal wasn’t to harass you, to make your life a living hell. It wasn’t even to annoy you, or to make you fall in love with him. It was to make you his friend, make you like him. He wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t the loser you seemed to take him for (even if he was). Yuji wasn’t one to suffer and dwell on those who didn’t like him, he could deal with that, even if it bothered him some. Being the outgoing and kind guy he was, it wasn’t something he dealt with often, anyway. It was the fact that he could tell you didn’t hate him that drew him to you, he wanted to know why you put on that act.

The interactions started small, like a thrown comment about the shirt you were wearing or the offer to help you out with whatever chore you’d been tasked with. That was his job after all, so you couldn’t tell him off for that. He’d hang around you and Nobara, and as much as it pained you to say, she was warming up to him. Maybe you were, too. It had only been two weeks, for fucks sake! He’d already weaseled his way into your life, you couldn’t escape him. Your dad loved him, his boyish nature being something your father always sought out in his workers. Probably the longing for a son, honestly. You knew it wasn’t a jab at you, he loved you with his whole heart, but every man wanted a son in the same way every woman wanted a daughter. It was that familiarity of who he once was.

Because of this, the little fucker had even begun eating with you.

“Hey, Mr [l/n]!” came a voice, a head popping in through the side door. Your dad suppressed a grin at the sight of him, looking over his shoulder from where he stood beside you, seasoning the meat as you chopped vegetables. You didn’t bother looking back, it was always the same person anyway.

“Yuji,” your father greeted, nodding at him in acknowledgment. Yuji stepped inside, smiling mindlessly as he glanced around the kitchen. Every time he was in here, it was as if it were his first time seeing the place. You didn’t understand what was so fascinating about your old western kitchen, anyway.

The phone on the wall rang, and you momentarily dropped the green onion you were slicing to answer it. You assumed that was your job, considering your father’s hands were covered in various spices and seasonings.

You grabbed the dull beige telephone, the coiling chord extending out as you raised it to your ear.

“Daddy,” you said, placing your hand over the microphone of the device. “They need you down at the Kugisaki’s. Their fence broke.”

He nodded, placing your uncooked dinner back down on a plate and moving to rinse his hands, the leaky tap in front of the window sputtering out some water. That was country life for you.

You picked the phone back up, alerting Nobara’s grandmother of your dad’s pending arrival and saying a quick goodbye. Yuji still stood by the door, watching the whole interaction. You were much calmer in the comfort of your own home, when darkness creeped over the sky and the stimulation of the bustling ranch wasn’t ringing in your ears.

A mischievous grin crossed your face, making your father groan. He knew exactly what you were going to ask, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to say no. “I’ll pick up Nobara while I’m there,” he grumbled, though as he stepped out the door, turned back with a pointing finger in the air. “Wake me up after dark again and I’m throwin’ both of yous in the corn field.”

You watched with a snarky grin as he walked away, hopping into the worn down truck sitting in the driveway.

Then, you looked just a few inches to the side. Oh. Yuji was still here.

You opted to not pay him much mind, taking the few short strides from where the phone sat on the wall. You took up your task of preparing dinner once again, knife in your hand as and chopped up various veggies and sides.

“You need help with that?” he called, not bothering to wait for an answer as he took an onion from where it was sat on the counter. He grabbed a knife as well, beginning to chop it.

“I never said yes,” you said, observing him from the corner of your eye. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbow, dirt staining various parts of his clothes, which you assumed was the doing of your horse. She wasn’t fond of men.

He pouted in mock offence, placing a hand over his heart as if he was physically pained. “Wow, just kill me I guess. I figured some help wouldn’t hurt.”

He wasn’t exactly wrong, though you would’ve protested a little more before admitting that. A defence was on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it before the words could leave your lips. Over the time you’d known him (or rather, he’d been inserting himself into your days and forcing you to hang around him) the disdain in your tone had faded, becoming more sassy than resentful. That was progress in his mind.

“…thank you.”

His lips curled into a smile, momentarily taking a gander at you before looking back to the knife in his hand. “‘Welcome.”

Aside from the rhythmic chopping of blades against the wood of the cutting boards, the room was silent. There was a dull hum coming from the refrigerator, though you’d grown used to it. It was a constant noise in the background, it had been since you were born, even before that.

“Would you mind putting this in the microwave for a moment?” you asked, noticing his free hands. You gently nudged a dish towards him, the fork you’d been using to chip away at the dish sticking out of the top. It was in desperate need of defrosting, a little nudge in the right direction wouldn’t hurt, right?

He nodded. “Alright,” he said, picking up the platter. His next moves were unknown to you, your back turned to him as he –supposedly��� popped it into the microwave. The sound of the buttons being pushed accompanied by the robotic whir of the machine started alerted you of such.

“You cook often?” Yuji said, leaning back on the counter. “You’re good at it.” You picked up the diced bits of vegetable and put them into a separate bowl, dusting your hands of the remnants of them. You allowed yourself to face him, to actually give him your attention for a moment. He’d proven that he was worthy of that much, at least.

“Usually,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your palms pressed into the edge of the counter, the marble cold against your skin. “Daddy’s always busy, but he helps sometimes.”

He nodded. He may have been lacking a couple brain cells, but he knew well enough not to ask why it was only you and your dad. He wasn’t that stupid. He couldn’t help but wonder, though.

Sensing his curiosity, you let out a soft sigh. “I never knew momma. Just me ‘round here.”

He looked surprised to hear you say it, as if the question wasn’t written all over his face. He was more surprised how willing you were to share it, though. He thought you’d hit him with your car or something if he dared to ask, thought you viewed him like the rest. He barely lived a similar life to yours and he’d still heard the stories, but it was rather obvious that something was being left out. Maybe you weren’t such a maneater after all, maybe there was a good reason. There was.

“Oh,” he said. He opened his mouth to speak, but your attention was quickly moved elsewhere when you saw a faint flickering of electricity in the window of the microwave.

“Yuji!” you lurched forward, opening it in a haste. Inside it was revealed to be the dish you’d given him, just as it had been. Just as it had been, as in the fork was still inside. You mentally facepalmed, closing your eyes and bringing your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“You’re kidding me.”

“What?” he asked. Your head shot up. Was he serious? He seemed to know his way around the kitchen just fine, you were even a little impressed. How could he be so familiar yet so… unaware?

“You put a fork in the microwave. You can’t do that,” you sighed, the second sentence coming out more condescending than you intended.

“…Oh.”

A beat of silence passed, a dumbfounded, somewhat embarrassed expression on his face. It was comical. Suddenly you felt the irresistible urge to laugh, the chortle leaving your lips before you could bring yourself to stop it. He just looked hilarious like that, and you were growing sick of withholding your amusement.

He somehow looked even more confused, though when he realized this was the first time he’d seen you laugh (save for the chuckles and giggles you shared with Nobara when you thought he wasn’t looking), the corners of his lips couldn’t help but quirk up. “What? Why are we laughing? What’s funny?”

Through hearty giggles, you managed to stutter out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re- you’re dumb. You know that?”

His mind buffered for a moment, staring at you blankly. You almost thought he was offended, but then, that thought was quickly washed away. A breath left him, soon turning into full belly laughs that matched yours. Soon enough the two of you were doubling over in laughter, falling all over the tile kitchen floor. You barely even knew what you were laughing at anymore, all you knew was Yuji’s stupid face and the unwelcome feeling of warmth you’d began feeling every time he was near.

You were so distracted that you failed to notice the two figures standing in the door, the two closest people to you. Your best friend and your father watched the two of you as you nearly clutched eachother in laughter. They didn’t know what was so hilarious, but they knew one thing. That one thing was shared in a short glance, teenage girl and burly man connected by one thing: you.

Later that night, Nobara ever so boldly brought him up. The two of you were sat in your bedroom, some calm music playing from the radio on your dresser as you mindlessly chatted away.

“So… you seem to like Yuji better than the rest.”

You glanced at her from where you sat at the head of your bed, her sprawled frame over the covers making a pang of amusement shoot through your chest. You shrugged. “Well, he hasn’t tried to get in my pants, so I think that automatically means somethin’, doesn’t it?” you asked, something beneath your words saying ‘duh’.

She let out a huff of laughter, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “It means no new dents in your bumper?”

“Exactly.”

The two of you shared a laugh, the muted red checkers of your bedding being crinkled with the movement. She grinned, “Remind me to make you drink more often.”

Your eye twitched, slapping a hand over her mouth and letting out a hurried “Shhhhh!”

She let out muffled protests against the skin of your palm, eyes narrowing. The feeling of her teeth readying to sink into it was enough to make you remove it, though, knowing that she wasn’t playing around. She did it once, she’d do it again. She was still the same kid she was ten years ago at heart.

“My dad is in the next room, stupid. Believe it or not, I’m not supposed to get in my truck after two beers and some Bailey’s.”

“Oops,” she said, smiling in feigned innocence. You could punch her. You let out a sigh, flopping back against your headboard.

“Back to my point,” she began. “You seem to… not hate him. And I think he likes you.” She propped herself up on her elbow, orange hair falling to the side. It brushed over her shoulder, the delicate fabric of her (your) pyjama shirt moving at the contact.

You nearly choked on your spit. That had been the last thing you’d expected her to say, and you were expecting many things. Was she actually stupid or something? I mean, you called her that a lot, but you never genuinely meant it. You were starting to believe your own words.

“Hush. Don’t say dumb shit like that.”

“It’s true! He’s got to have a thing for you, at least. Come on,” she groaned. She was real sick of your denial whenever it came to being liked. You always shut it down, always dismissed her with an eyeroll and shake of the head. She always assumed it was because you didn’t like the guys, deemed it an insult to be of their interest, but this was different. This guy was good.

You shook your head, just like you always did. “He’s just friendly like that, Nobara. Don’t be silly.”

She quirked a brow, a devious smile hinting at her lips. “Oh, so you notice him enough to know that, huh?”

You tossed your head back, your skull hitting the worn wood of the headboard. “Oh my gosh, shut up! I can never win with you!”

“Damn right.”

𓍼

The sun was yet to be high in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the expanse of the farmland. The sky was painted orange and pink, clouds strewn about the soft canvas of the sunrise. Your boots thumped against the ground as you walked, passing over gravel, grass, and dirt alike. You approached the stable that was home to your horse, the smaller structure coming into view. Beside it was the barn; the place that held the other animals aside from the horses. On the other side of it was a fence, closing in an area for them to roam freely.

You swung open the door to the building, taking note of a birds nest in the nook of the roof that you hadn’t seen before. The ground was littered with hay and bugs, the occasional spider skittering across a floorboard.

You made your way to your horses stall, the word ‘Matrix’ carved into a silver nametag on the door. You slid into the small, enclosed space, shutting the clunky sliding door behind you. You lovingly patted your dear horse, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Once she was decked out in her reins and saddle, you lead her out of the stable. You’d grown all too used to this routine, setting off into the sunrise every morning you got the chance. It was your peace, the moment of the day that felt like you were on top of the world. Like everything was yours to have, to keep, yours to live and experience and laugh and love in.

You had just made it to the gate at the back, the one leading to the trails within the clusters of trees that separated yours and Nobara’s house, when you halted. Something caught your eye, the silhouette of someone sitting atop the fence just a few paces behind you. Yuji. Of course he was here, he was always here. The thing that bothered you most was that you were beginning to question if that was a negative thing or not.

He called out your name, waving tall and proud as if he was miles away instead of a few short metres. He hopped down from the fence, and you were honestly surprised the wood was holding up so well. You were wealthy, yes, but there were many things around this place that needed either a good fixing or to be completely replaced one of those things was that fence, most likely because it wasn’t paid much attention at all.

“Where’re you going?” he asked once he’d caught up to you, hands resting in his pockets. There was an early morning chill blanketing the air, seeping into your bones further with every gust of wind.

“A ride,” you said, beginning to walk again now that he was at your side.

“Well, I see that. Where?” he pushed. He was a little more sassy than you’d expected, honestly. The ball of sunshine could bite back when he wanted to. You suppressed a grin, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“Through the forest. S’real nice at this hour.”

He let out a hum, nodding. He looked over the stretch of the treeline, where the earth met the sky and formed a pattern of the zigzags and spikes that were the tips of great pine plants.

“What’re you doing up, Yuji?” you asked, attempting to sound less interested than you actually were. You’d given up the act of disliking him, but you still kept your distance. What was the point of getting close, anyway? You only had 5 weeks left of him, so to keep him at arms length was the most logical thing to do.

He smiled. “I always see you out here. I wanted to see what that was all about.”

He’d… been paying attention? Come out here for you? You hated the way that made your heart thump against your chest, that attentiveness and interest in you something you weren’t even sure teenage boys were capable of.

“Stalker,” you said, smirking. The both of you knew you didn’t mean it, you couldn’t hide it if you tried. You passed through the gate, the bright red metal clanging against the lock as it shut behind you. He followed you, silent for the first time in… forever?

You situated a foot in one of the stirrups, swiftly throwing yourself upward and swinging your leg over to the other side of your horse. It was a split second before you were sitting comfortably in the saddle, no struggle at all. Yuji always found it mesmerizing, how well you knew your way around these things. He could ride a horse just fine, but not like you. It was as if Matrix was an extension of you, so familiar that it barely took you any effort to have every bit of her all figured out.

You wriggled your hips against the leather beneath you, holding the reins loosely in your grasp.

“You comin’ or not?” you asked, looking back at a distracted Yuji who perked up immediately at your offer.

“Yep! Uh- Wait- hold on!” he shouted in a panic, not wasting a second before darting back to the stables. He was oddly fast, you’d noticed. He seemed to be blessed in the physical department, not that you’d been paying attention or anything… he just drew attention to it, okay? Yeah. That was it. Blame the T-Shirts and the rolled up sleeves and the summer heat for causing it, not your wandering eyes.

It was only a couple minutes before he was approaching you once again, saddled horse in tow. He sported a proud grin, one that had grown all too familiar. It was the same as when he’d get you to smile, when you would eat the dinner you cooked together and agree with your father when he complimented it. He wore it when he successfully managed to infiltrate yours and Nobara’s girl time, and you were sure that when he inevitably convinced you to let him in on everything else, he would wear it then too. That wasn’t to say you exactly minded, perchance you’d even grown somewhat fond of it.

The trees provided shade as the two of you walked along the trails, the chirping of awakening birds ringing through your ears.

“You’re right, it’s nice out here when it’s early,” he said, looking around at the lush trees, eyes sparkling in awe.

“Isn’t it?”

You kept walking, though it didn’t make much of a difference, the greenery looked the same all around. The red of your wool sweater stuck out against the emerald background, making you look like the centrepiece of an oil painting. At least, that’s what Yuji thought.

“Yuji,” you began, making his head snap to you. He’d gotten a little distracted by a bird fluttering above you, the flapping of its wings making a crisp noise. “How come I’ve never seen you around school?” you asked.

“Oh, I had to drop out to take care of my grandpa,” he said, looking ahead. He stole a glimpse of you every few seconds, but for once, he avoided your gaze. “He was sick and… he’s all I got left, so…”

Oh. You were silent, blinking away the shock of his reasoning. You’d expected him to say he went to school in the city, or that he was staying in town for the summer, or… something. Something else, something lighter. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. He’s better now, anyway. That’s why I’m here.”

You nodded, allowing a hint of a smile to cross your face. “That’s good to hear.”

“Good to hear that I’m here or that he’s better?” he joked, grinning. He cocked his head to the side, rosy locks of hair rustling with the breeze. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“…maybe both.”

His brows shot up, surprised. Usually such a joke would’ve been shut down immediately, whether that was by a one finger salute or a straight up order to be quiet. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy huff of laughter, realizing that maybe you were a little too mean to the poor boy.

“You aren’t so bad, Yuji.”

To say Yuji beamed was an understatement. Best believe he rode that high for the rest of the day. The rest of the week, maybe. Even when your horse kicked him in the mud and left him looking like a dirty, squashed bug, even after Nobara nearly ran him over whilst learning to drive in your truck and excused it with an ‘oops’ and a ‘you’re a man, you can take it!’ But that was okay, both circumstances were okay, because you’d tended to him after. Well… maybe you’d sprayed the mud off of him with the hose like he was a rabid dog, but it was attention nonetheless. Maybe you’d have been nicer if he hadn’t chased you around and insisted on giving you a hug, sludge and all. The second time you’d asked if he was okay, played it off with a laugh. Maybe he himself was oblivious to it, but Nobara saw the worry in your eyes. But of course Yuji had responded with a bright smile and a corny thumbs up, which although stupid and boyish, had both eased your nerves and made a dopey smile of your own threaten to appear on your face.

𓍼

“How can you tell if it’s good or not? It’s a peach. They all look the same.”

“No they don’t, idiot! Look!”

“But that literally looks the same?!”

Your two friends bickering was simply background noise to you as you strolled through the humble little market of Chiudam, the closest town to your settlement of farms. Originally, this was supposed to be a solo trip. Keyword: was. Your plans had been spoiled when the happy go lucky, pink haired boy had hopped into your truck the moment he saw you, didn’t even bother to ask. An unfortunate chain of events had lead to Nobara joining as well, your smooth drive down to the grocery store turned into what felt like a mobile zoo exhibit.

There you were, actually shopping whilst they argued over peaches.

You let out a sigh under your breath, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You loved her, but you’d come to realize that whenever Yuji was around, Nobara got increasingly stupider. Honestly, though, you were just happy to see that she was making more friends. She wasn’t exactly popular around these parts, her temper had granted that.

“You guys keep bickering, I’m gonna check out,” you called back, dropping the last of the items on your list into the basket hanging from your elbow.

You left them in the dust, making your way to the one and only cash register in the shop. You didn’t pay much mind to whoever was standing behind it, their back turned as they punched something into a computer at the back wall. You began unloading the groceries, placing them on the counter one by one.

And then, you glanced up. You felt something in you shift, your guard immediately going up.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he smirked wolfishly, like a predator looking down on its prey. You sneered, disgust written all over your face.

“Kotaro,” you said, a curt greeting. You stood stiffly, expectant as you waited for him to scan your items. Could this guy do his job instead of staring at you like that? His scruffy brown hair nearly touched the flannel draped over his shoulders, and he seemed oddly dirty for a store clerk. He’d been banned from working on your farm, along with the rest, after being particularly creepy for his entire time there. A hand sliding up your bare leg, inching under the fabric of your sundress, a wolf whistle as you walked by, gross comments behind your back, you name it. A punch in the face and the threat of his downfall didn’t seem to bother him, because here he was.

“Haven’t seen you around lately,” he said.

You mumbled under your breath, “I wonder why.”

“You been avoiding me, little lady?” The fact that he was 20 didn’t help the way that nickname made you nearly recoil. Coming from anyone else, it was endearing, most often used by role models and father figures. From him it felt much more perverted, much more odd.

“Don’t call me that.”

He leaned over the counter, breath nearly wafting over your face. His scratchy, stiff hand was placed on your arm, forbidding you from moving without making a scene. You didn’t know why you felt so defenceless. Making a scene had never scared you, but it was different when you were here in public than it was on the outskirts, at your home.

“Come on, you know you like it. Admit it,” he said, voice low and eerie. You pulled away from his grasp, eyes narrowing in a glare. You were about to speak, ready to spit some sort of insult or name at him, but you were cut off.

“I think it’s pretty clear she doesn’t like that, man. Take your hands off of her.”

Yuji was just behind you, nose scrunched up as he took in the sight before him. He looked oddly serious, more than you’d ever seen him before. He swatted the man’s hand away, gentle but enough to pry it off. There was a red imprint left on the skin of your arm, the traces of his greed staining the flesh.

Kotaro laughed arrogantly, clearly sizing Yuji up. He puffed out his chest, jaw ticking as he glanced between the two of you. “What are you, her boyfriend or somethin’?”

Yuji paused for a moment, glancing at you as if to ask for permission. He looked back to the social reject standing behind the counter, speaking. “Maybe I am. What’s it to you?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. He grumbled to himself, nothing but a gruff murmur under his breath as he scanned the last of your groceries, lazily shoving them into a bag and taking your cash. Nobara joined the two of you once you left, she’d been waiting outside. As the bell atop the door rang softly through the empty streets, Yuji turned to you.

“Are you okay? Sorry, I uh… I didn’t know what else to do,” he said, a lopsided grin making its way onto his lips. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he waited for a response, hoping and praying you wouldn’t think he was weird for what he’d said. He visibly relaxed when you smiled, a huff of laughter leaving your lips.

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s okay,” you said, nodding as the three of you walked. The concrete was run down, pebbles poking into your shoes with every step as you approached your truck. You halted for a moment, a delicate hand placed on Yuji’s arm. He stopped in tow with you, and Nobara obliviously continued her pace. Or maybe she wasn’t oblivious, maybe she was all too aware, walking away for the complete opposite reason to what you’d thought.

“Thanks, Yuji.” You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek. You were pulling away in an instant, but he could’ve sworn the feeling of your lips lingered. His lips parted, face heating up as he gently placed his fingers over where you’d kissed him.

He stood there motionless for a moment, struggling to get a word out as he watched you join Nobara. It was only when the two of you turned around and waved for him to follow that he snapped out of it. He smiled, jogging to catch up with you. That lovesick grin didn’t leave his face, not for a long while.

“Uh.. how do you know that guy, anyway?”

Nobara cut in, all too eager to give Yuji the run down. “Oh my gosh I have to tell you. We fuckin’ hate him.”

Though Yuji’s eyes widened a fraction at her foul language, he was somewhat eager to hear her. The entire ride back home was her airing him out, because somehow, she knew everything about everyone in this damn town. Not that you minded. All you could do was grin as you drove, glancing into your mirror to get a fleeting glimpse of Yuji in your back seat. The way he’d defended you made something within you stir, something you hadn’t felt before. Was this what Nobara was talking about?

Just later that night, the three of you found yourselves circled around a bonfire, sharing a flask of whiskey you’d swiped from your kitchen. It was at the back of the property, a small clearing so far from the road that it couldn’t even be seen. Over the years, you and Nobara had mapped out every bit of the farm, knowing it like the back of your hands. You knew every good spot, every trail, every dip in the earth. On nights like these, the perks of that really shone through.

This was Yuji’s first bonfire. You hadn’t invited him before, keeping the little event a secret between you and Nobara. Because of recent changes, though, you decided Yuji was worthy of the experience.

The fact that this wasn’t only his first bonfire with you, but his first bonfire ever wasn’t apparent until the heaps of wood in front of you began going up in flames. He stood there like an awestruck child, mouth open in shock. It was a wholesome sight to see. The flames danced in his wide brown eyes, and you cursed yourself for paying more attention to him than the fire before you.

“Woah…” he said, voice soft and low. You shared a look with Nobara, smirking. It had become less impressive and more routine to you by now, so to see it be so foreign to someone was undeniably entertaining.

You sat down in some lawn chairs, taken from the depths of the shed in your yard where nobody would notice their absence. The sky was only beginning to darken, a cool chill beginning to set in the air. The three of you chatted mindlessly as you stared at the stars above, tips of the raging fire creeping into your line of sight.

You pulled the cool metal flask from the pocket of your sweater, unscrewing it with ease. You took the lid off with a flick, letting it land in the grass with a soft thud. Taking a swig, you winced. Bitter.

You passed it to Nobara, who downed a sip with a scarily straight face (though you both knew her mind would spin after just a few more). Next was Yuji, who eyed the drink like it was an artifact from another planet. He took a drink from it, his face contorting in disgust and nearly spitting it out. He coughed, placing a hand around his throat to ease it.

“Blegh! That’s gross,” he said. You laughed, taking the flask from his hand and downing some of it. He eyed you, taking in the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed. A drop of it fell from your lips, down onto the skin of your chest. He pulled his eyes away to be respectful, telling himself he wasn’t staring, but his throat felt dry. He glanced back at you, looking at your eyes this time. “Gimme another sip.”

It wasn’t long before drunken giggles filled the air, though contrary to what most would expect, Yuji was the main cause. Though Nobara was somewhat a lightweight based on country standards, Yuji was the worst of you. You assumed he wasn’t one to drink, especially since he’d spent the past year taking care of his grandpa. When would he even have the time? Besides, you were sixteen, it wasn’t like you could waltz into the liquor store and get some yourself. You and Nobara only drank because you were allowed though, it was normal here. Nobara’s family was more strict in that sense, but your father wasn’t. He’d slip you a beer on cool summer nights, and the three of you could sit on the porch and reminisce like a group of old women. It was nice. It wasn’t like you were a few delinquents stealing booze from your parents cabinet, though with the way you’d basically fed Yuji that whiskey, it sort of felt that way.

You laughed at something insignificant, probably a stupid face someone had made or the memory of that time Nobara and Yuji had fallen in the mud whilst running to you. So much had happened in the past month, or rather the nearly six weeks since you’d met. It was funny to think about how you’d been so cold yo Yuji upon first meeting him, and now you couldn’t peel your attention off him. Even just being his friend, if it would still be classified as such, had changed you.

Everyone had noticed. You weren’t so stand offish around most people now, it seemed his happy-go-lucky attitude had rubbed off on you. You just felt… happier. More you. It felt as if a piece of your soul had been kept from you, only reuniting with its whole when Yuji came around. Your heart was with him, and now that he was here, it had found home… for the next two weeks, at least.

Two weeks. Fuck. You only had two weeks left with him, and the boldest thing you’d done was a thank you kiss on the cheek.

Suddenly a lazy arm was draped around you, heavy and strong. A cheek was squished against your shoulder and you could feel him grinning against it, crooked and dumb. And cute.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, speech slurred and dragged out. He laughed at himself, drunk but not drunk enough to ignore how drunk he was, I guess.

“Nothin’ Yuji, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Nobara laughed, draped out over her own chair just a few feet away. She let out a snort, to which she only laughed harder at. Yuji joined in, his laughter racking both yours and his body, as he was still wrapped around you. You were honestly just as intoxicated as the two of them, but you handled it better. Well enough to not end up falling to the ground in hysterics because of a snort. The corners of your lips did quirk up, though, much to your dismay. As their laughter died down, the only noise heard was the warm crackling of the fire and the crickets chirping from all around you.

Somehow, some way, Yuji ended up asleep. His position didn’t change, still holding onto you like a sloth, but soft snores rumbled against your sweater now. You glanced down at him, brushing a stray tuft of hair out of his face. He looked so pretty, so peaceful. You liked that, you wanted peace for him. You liked him.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the undying need to get it off your back, but you spoke. “I think I might be falling for him.”

“Glad you finally accepted it,” spoke a half awake Nobara from the chair beside you. Her eyes drifted shut, a grin tugging at her lips as she mumbled some last words before falling asleep. “You better do something about it soon, he’s too scared. Then he’ll be gone and you’ll be sad and whiney, and I don’t wanna listen to you.”

As she peeked at you one last time before unconsciousness took over, you knew she wasn’t lying. She was all too right, as bitchy as it sounded.

“Yeah yeah fuck you, I know,” you mumbled. Then your eyes fell shut, shifting to lean against Yuji as sleep enveloped you. You knew you had to do something. Someone like him didn’t come around often, people with hearts as big as their minds and eyes that sparkled every time you came around. He was different, and you wouldn’t lose him.

𓍼

“I like you.”

You were once again out for a ride, the sun rising over the horizon and spreading the mornings glow over the trees as you passed through them. You’d slowed, the sound of hooves beating into the ground lowering to a soft, steady beat. This had become routine for the two of you, something you looked forward to. Usually he’d come to wake you up every morning, the sound of pebbles hitting the glass of your window something you expected every day at 6am sharp. He told you he wanted to get out before the sun rose, but really, he just liked how you looked when you’d just rolled out of bed. All messy haired and droopy eyed, that annoyed look etched into your face. You just looked so mundane and pretty, a contrast to the composed girl he was used to seeing.

That had been the case this morning, too. When you first awoke, you didn’t have this planned. You were expecting another little horse ride, maybe some laughter and conversation, but not this. You don’t know why you just blurted it out like that. If you hadn’t, though, you weren’t sure you’d ever say it at all.

He choked on his spit, both of your eyes widening simultaneously, as if you had only heard your words when he did. “…what?”

“What?” you echoed. He made a face, a mix of ‘am I schizophrenic’ and ‘don’t act oblivious now.’

“I’m dumb, but not that dumb,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. You still moved leisurely through the forest, the trees passing by slowly, slower than time. “I… I heard that.”

You let out a breath of air through your nose, chest rising and falling. Your hands felt shaky, and you were sure you were on the verge of passing out. You could only imagine what would happen if he didn’t like you back. Well… at least there was only one more week of him staying here?

“You did.”

He began speaking, but stopped. He kept opening his mouth and closing it again, like a floundering fish on land. He was struggling for words, speechless for once. He felt dizzy, his mind scrambled. “I- do you mean that?”

You paused for a long moment, one that to Yuji, felt like years. He had been yearning to hear those sweet words fall from your lips for… well, he couldn’t exactly remember when it started. He’d even asked Nobara what to do, desperate for some sort of help. The thing was, he wasn’t convinced that you liked him back. Even when Nobara pushed it, even pinky promised, he couldn’t bring himself to believe her. But now you’d said it. You were right here and you’d just told him you liked him, and he just needed to hear you say you meant it.

Well, there wasn’t much of a point in denying it now. “Why would I say it if I didn’t?”

He swallowed thickly, hastily nodding. That was true. He knew that, you weren’t a liar. He felt so dumb. He just felt all over the place when he was with you, more than usual, and that had been multiplied tenfold now. He brought his horse to a stop, a short neigh meeting your ears as well as the sound of his feet meeting the ground.

You stared at him for a moment, mind blank, before coming to your senses and following him suit. The two of you tied their reins to a fallen log nearby, that was the closest you’d get to something proper.

He stood parallel to you now, shakily meeting your eyes for brief seconds before staring at the ground once again. He didn’t look all that nervous, but internally he was freaking the fuck out. He was screaming and yelling but at the same time, resisting the urge to pump his fist in the air and cry from joy.

“I uh… I don’t know where to start,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

His head shot up, panic overtaking his features. He reached out without a second thought, shaking his hands and head simultaneously in defence.

“No- no! I like you too! A lot!” he exclaimed, eyes wide and shining with something you couldn’t quite recognize. Your throat closed up, blinking at him in shock.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling as he rubbed the back of his neck. He did that often, you noticed. A nervous habit of his. “I just… I didn’t think you liked me back, so I didn’t say anything. I thought Nobara was just saying that, you know? But I really, really like you, like I just said, I was just scared. I’m a coward, I know. You’re not supposed to be the one to confess, I-“

He was cut off as you lurched forward, pressing your lips against his. They slotted together perfectly, like they were always meant to. It barely took him a second to kiss back with equal fervour, equal enthusiasm. His eyes fluttered shut, matching yours. His hand rested at the back of your neck, holding you, but giving you enough room to back out if you wanted. He held you as if he kissed you first, as if he was unsure that you wanted to.

You parted with a pant, breaths mingling. It took the both of you a couple moments before your eyes opened again, and it was then that he regained some of his consciousness.

“What was that for?!” he asked, though any suspicion you had of his anger were washed away as his lips began spreading in a smile. “I was talking there.”

You mimicked his grin, lovesick and stupid. “Had to shut you up somehow.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling just like they had the first time you met him. When he’d been nothing but a stranger, one you had a particular distaste for at that. Nothing but a heart without a home. That strangers heart had found home on your little ranch, with you.

“In that case…” he said, though his sentence wasn’t finished with words. It was finished with him reeling you back in, kissing you like he wanted to make up for lost time as well as the next few centuries. Like you were delicate and eternal and everything he wanted, and in a way, you were. He’d be fine spending eternity with you, but if that wasn’t possible, he supposed the rest of his life could suffice.

He pulled away, gazing down at you as if you had placed every star in the sky just for him. “I think I’m doing this backwards,” he said, “but will you be my girlfriend? Please.”

You grinned, your heart racing wildly in your chest. You were sure it would jump out if that pace kept up, but at the same time, you figured it wasn’t yours anymore anyway. It was his, it had been for a while.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

𓍼

Yeah, Yuji went home the week after that. But he didn’t leave, no, not in the slightest. It wasn’t long after that when he got his license, and he made sure to take frequent trips to your farm. Also, a pleasant surprise (or moreso something he’d forgotten to mention) was that he was starting school again, at your school. You could imagine the surprise you felt when you sat down in homeroom only to see the bright face of your boyfriend staring at you from the doorway.

He was there for every big event, and every small one too. Your weekly campfires with Nobara became ritual, after which you’d end up curled up in your bed, his face squished against your neck and suffocating you with his weight. He was there for every rodeo you took part in, screaming and clapping ridiculously loud. He was your number one cheerleader, always right next to Nobara and your dad, the former yelling almost as loud as him. You couldn’t have been more grateful for your morning routine, and your mouth that moved before your brain did, because it gained you who you were convinced was the love of your life and lost you nothing but the nuisance of dealing with other boys.

It was safe to say your dad hired him next summer. And every summer after that. And for every summer after, he loved you just the same.

Perma tag(s) — @anotherwriternamedclara

[syluskisser]

Sylus 🐦‍⬛ Negotiations

summary; you decided to tag along during sylus's meetings, what could go wrong? (or right)

warnings; afab!reader, exhibitionism, cockwarming, usage of pet names [sweetie, kitten/kitty, doll], degradation, porn w/ very lil plot

word count; 1.1k

a/n; i'm surprised this idea hasnt been done more often... lmao

MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI

"Is this dress okay?" You had asked your boyfriend, Sylus. Tonight, the two of you were going to a business meeting. Something about a lost shipment.

He nodded, not paying much attention, "yes, kitten, anything looks exquisite on you."

You smiled, but then shook your head, "I mean, is it too short?" You pulled on the lace hemline of the custom made dress. Sylus was right, it complimented both you and his matching suit but, it was oh-so short. The edge grazed your knee, and you could only imagine the uncomfortable and prolonged stares that you'd get later in the night.

Sylus's eyebrows furrowed, "you're asking a pointless question." He had picked up one of his guns and cocked it, "If anyone wants to challenge my position over you, they'll get their due penalty." His gun, now loaded, went into his inside coat pocket.

Your eyes widened, "okay, then."

You made it to the meeting place. To your right sat Sylus, legs spread open and back straight. You had already arrived to the venue, about 30 minutes earlier than planned. Sylus would much rather prefer being early than coming 'fashionably late.'

"You look wonderful," Sylus purred as you played around with the water in your glass. The restaurant that you were in had already brought some refreshments and small appetizers to your private room.

You turned your head to look at him, "you don't look bad yourself."

He smirked, "Really? How so?" Sylus loved to tease you. He was infatuated with the little drop in your eyebrows and the way you slightly pouted at his questions.

"Your suit— it looks nice." You were a little flustered.

"Just nice?" Sylus jested.

You retorted back, "Do you plan on digging an answer out of me?"

"Well you don't seem very keen on giving me answers, kitten."

"It's embarrassing. I'd much rather show you."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, he was about to add another comment before you kissed him. Slow at first, up until his hands found the small of your waist and he lifted you onto his lap.

You nestled your body on top of where his legs connected to his torso. A small moan escaped your lips, muffled by his attack on your mouth. His tongue swirled with yours, twisting and turning in a way that created a pool in your panties.

"Sylus..." you whispered between kisses.

He hummed and let go of your lips, "yes, sweetie?" Another kiss peppered your lips.

You opened your eyes, unsure of when you closed them, and were met with his face. Lipstick smudged on his lips, and his hair slightly messed up from your hands. "You have—" he kissed you mid sentence, "guests coming."

"They can wait." He squeezed your hips slightly, eliciting another moan.

"But that's improper," you hummed, lips reconnecting with his. Despite your protests, you didn't want to cut this short. You knew this meeting was important, however.

Sylus smirked and slid your dress up. He huffed, "I don't give a damn about what's proper right now, kitten."

You helped him unbuckle his pants, excited. Your hips bucked from all the built up arousal. A knock was heard from the door. Sylus pulled his dick out, regardless, and slid your panties to the side. "We should give our guests a show, huh?"

You hummed in agreement before lowering your body onto his cock, whimpering at the stretch. No matter how many times he put it in, it still managed to make your body ache. Another knock was heard from the door, and the fear caused you to shake.

"Don't move." Sylus said to you before using his evol to unlock the door, "Come in."

The two older men walked inside, and you hid your face in Sylus's shoulder. Anxiety pooled in your chest. You could feel their gazes on your back.

One man spoke, "a- are we interrupting something?" You could tell from his voice that he was clearly flustered, arguably more than you were.

Sylus laughed, "no, let's begin."

For the next hour and a half, you sat on Sylus's cock. Slick pooling between your thighs and dripping down from your leg. You desperately wanted to move your body, slowly bucking and pressing his dick down further for a hope of friction. Each time, Sylus would slap your ass, unbothered by the two bystanders.

"Such a bad kitty," he whispered in your ear as the men were discussing something amongst themselves, "you're that desperate for this cock?"

You hummed in response.

"Use your words," Sylus demanded.

"Y— yes!" He slightly thrusted into you for the first time that night. You couldn't help but moan.

The men were brought back from their conversation for a split second before they quickly turned away and began muttering again. Their attention drew heat between your legs, and you felt yourself clench onto Sylus's dick.

"You know the rules, doll." Sylus whispered, and then he slapped your ass, loud enough for there to be an echo.

This time, the younger man from the two spoke, "We should— ahem, go..." They shuffled to collect their things. "Let's continue this at our next meeting, sir."

Sylus hummed as he watched them walk out the door. The moment it shut, he pulled you out of his neck by your hair. It stung your scalp, causing you to let out a whince of pain.

He looked at you, his crimson eyes dulled and his lids heavy. "Did you have fun?"

You shook your head and whimpered, "fuck me, please."

That was all it took for him to lift you up and pull his dick out of you, precum and your juices connecting you together. He turned you around and pressed your front against the table, your stomach on the edge.

You felt his dick re-enter your body. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you," he growled, dick moving in and out of your pussy like it was as natural as breathing. You had no time to think, or to even worry about the shaking glasses on the table. One fell off, shattering on the floor. It was almost louder than your moans that echoed through the room.

Sylus panted in your ear, "you're such a dirty kitten, you know that?" He groaned. His arm wrapped around your neck as he pulled you up, your back now flush against his front, "tell me how much you love this dick."

You struggled to make any sense of the words coming out of his mouth, still focused on the ecstasy between your legs. "F- fuck...! I love your- ah! Your dick-" You choked on your words, his arm putting just enough pressure on your throat to make your eyes roll back.

He laughed, "you'd put this show on for anyone, huh?"

You struggled to speak between thrusts, "no... mmf! Just- just you. My pussy is just for you."

"Good girl."

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𓆰 Bad Dragon ᯓᡣ𐭩

synopsis: DragonHunter!Reader x DragonHybrid!Sylus

tags: 5 seconds of plot before filth hehe, manhandling, use of tail, mirror sex, choking, creampie, backshots AND missionary (i’m a whore but i’m also romantic), cumplay, orgasm denial, rough, like REAL rough, degredation, marking, claiming, cunnalingus, cumeating, heavy possessiveness, biting, mean sylus on the low, dragons so…monsterfucking?

wrd cnt: 3.2k (longest fic i’ve ever written…i love my man)

a/n: first of all yea the title is a reference to the dragon sex toy company and YES i wrote this with one hand anyways so yeah i saw the first drip marketing and fell to my fucking knees and started writing this 10 minutes after bc..?💀 yall im so serious im obsessed with dragons it’s my tism specialty my bestie @astarionapologist knows this….infold did this just to rob my ass

A cold and brutal wind swept through the jagged peaks of Tarus, carrying the scent of wet rubble and cinder.

You tugged on the ends of your pants, pulling them down to prepare for a hike up the mountain.

Your breath came in visible clouds of vapor, each huff proof of the frigid night that swallowed the sky above you.

The mouth of a cave ahead, like a black maw, unveiled an entrance that seemed to be your x on the map.

This was it; the nest of the bounty you had hunted for almost a month now.

With a final glance at the starlit scene, you unsheathed your heavy sword and stepped into the smoldering darkness.

The air around you thick and getting heavier by the second, something you couldn’t explain. Was it fear?

The sounds of the outside world disappeared, only the faint drips of water within the cave walls and the distant crackle of a dying fire behind you. You followed the tunnel, each step uncertain, and each sound amplified in the silence as you chose your path through the darkness.

And then, there he was, your prey.

Your heart skipped a beat, but not from fear… from recognition. The bounty poster hadn't prepared you for this, nothing could have. The deep cavern divided from any natural light made the mineral rich walls glow a shade almost mimicking the sun.

His scales shimmered, a contrast of his pale skin, red painted streaks adorning his skin and the obsidian scales that marked his body. He lounged on a makeshift bed of bedrock and bones, scorpion-like tail twitching lazily, the tip brushing against the stone floor with a soft, almost mocking rhythm that almost made it hard to believe it was him. Were you hallucinating?

"Well," he drawled, one leg draped on the sofa as the other layed parallel, an elbow to perch him up as you spoke to his back. "If it isn't little miss hunter." His voice was a low purr, lined with amusement and something darker. "I’m surprised to see you here, I was sure it would take a little longer for you to find me.". He said, impression in his tone.

You didnt- couldn’t respond immediately, instead letting your eyes roam over him. His muscles were corded and tense.

"I…I came for the bounty," you said finally, your voice steady despite the turbulent emotions swirling within you. "But I didn't expect...you like this-." You say, knuckles turning white as you grip your claymore tighter.

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled through his chest. "No? Surprised to see me…Or disappointed?" He rose from the bed, moving with a predatory grace that made your pulse quicken. "You should have known better, sweetie. Listen to your gut more." He said as he closed the distance you.

Before you could react, he was upon you, his hands grasping your wrists to pin them against the walls above your head, with terrifying ease no doubt. His even larger now body pressed against yours, the heat of his chest searing through your clothing. The familiar scent of smoke and spice filled your senses like an aphrodisiac.

"Now," he whispered, his lips dangerously close no yours. "What should I to do with you, my pesky little kitten?” He purred, his lips brushing your cheek and nuzzling into you like a feline.

His forked tongue flicked out, tasting the shell of your ear before he bit down gently, or whatever gentle might be to his standard; his teeth sinking into the tender flesh.

You gasped, the sensation both painful and unbearably pleasurable. His grip on your wrists tightened.

"Should I kill you?" he mused, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll keep you here...forever. My kindred spirit.”

Your breath hitched as his knee nudged between your legs, pressing insistently against your core.

The pressure sent a bolt of arousal straight to your center, pooling hotly between your thighs. You struggled against his hold, not out of fear, but from the overwhelming desire clawing its way to the surface. He was right, wasn’t he? Kindred spirits never seem to break away, the harder you pull the force of snapping back only heightened.

"Please..." you whispered, the word torn from your throat. "Don't..."

His chuckle was low and filthy, sending another wave of shivers through you. "Oh, I apologize, ‘don’t’ as in kill you? or keep you? You’re awefully confusing," he said, his hand slipping down your hip to find the curve of your ass; squeezing it roughly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he grinds his knee harder against you.

"It seems- your tongue isn’t telling the truth." He adds, his knee feeling the heat emanating from your core.

His tail lassos around your waist, coiling and pulling you flush against him, if it was even possible to get closer.

The sensation was electrifying, the thick and almost malleable appendage wrapping possessively around you.

His cock, already hard and throbbing, pressed against your stomach, demanding attention.

"Look at me," he commanded, forcing your chin up so you met his gaze with a firm hand on your throat, his nails sharp enough to make you bleed with just a prick.

"Tell me what you want. Be clear.”

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. The intensity of his stare was enough to reduce you to ash in his hands. But there was no denying the ache building inside you, the desperate need for him.

Fuck that bounty.

"I want…you," you admitted, the confession tasting bitter on your tongue like a scorched burn.

His smile was feral, triumphant. "That's my girl."

With a swift motion, he pulled you away from the wall and towards the seating. His tail kept you anchored, dragging you along like a prize as he held onto your throat. The scales scratched against your skin as he threw you down, following you down with a snarl.

"Mine," he growled, his hands roving over your body without mercy. "Only mine."

His fingers found your nipples, pinching and twisting them with brutal efficiency. You cried out, arching into his touch despite the pain.

The pleasure-pain duality was maddening.

"Yes," you whimpered, your hands gripping the rock beneath you. "Oh gods, yes..."

His mouth covered yours in a kiss that was anything but tender. His tongue invaded your mouth, stealing your breath and leaving you gasping. “There are no gods here…none that can save you.” He whispered before his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, drawing blood in a sweet, metallic exchange.

You could feel his tail tighten its grip around your waist, the scales digging into your skin every growing second as he hovered over you, his eyes drowned with a mix of lust and possessiveness.

His claws crept up your neck, grabbing your throat and squeezing just enough to make you groan, a smirk plastering his face.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with ego. "So eager, so needy. Pathetic."

You put your hand on his wrist, pleading eyes for him to do something, anything- anything to stop the torment he was putting you through.

This was still Sylus- your Sylus, who knew exactly what to do to make you lose it.

"Beg," he demanded, breaking the silence and watching you with hungry eyes. "Beg for it."

You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "Please..."

He laughed again, low and dark. "Not good enough."

His hand moved down, cupping your sex through your clothes- feeling your warmth. The rough flesh pressed against your sensitive flesh between the fabric, adding another layer of stimulation.

"Please- Sylus," you gasped, desperation coloring your voice. "Please, more..."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "What was that? I didn’t catch that," he whispered, his hand leaving. "Try again."

You twisted under him, craving more; unable to find satisfaction.

"Please... please, touch me," you begged, your voice hoarse and raw. "I can't... I can't take it anymore..." You begged.

He paused, his hands resting on the curve of your hip. For a moment, you thought he might give in, might finally grant you release, like the Sylus you’ve always known. But then, he smiled, a cruel twist of his lips that sent a chill down your spine.

"That's more like it," he purred, his fingers resuming their merciless dance. "But not yet.."

His tail released from your waist, not before it flipped you onto your stomach, then finding itself wrapped around your thigh, spreading your legs apart: toying with your body like a stringed puppet. The pressure was almost unbearable, but you welcomed it, craved it. Your body throbbed with need, every nerve ending thrumming with anticipation.

"Sylus..." you moaned, your hips pressing back against him. "Please..."

“You never learn to be patient do you?” He asked- moreso a statement, “…just a needy little slut, aren’t you sweetie? Even now.” He continued, in a mocking tone.

Before you could defend yourself, he grabbed your hair, yanking your head up so you were forced to look at yourself in the gold framed mirror, sitting perfectly between mounds of gold on the floor directly infront of you two. Your reflection stared back at you, wild-eyed and flushed, your hair disheveled and your neck marked with bruises, lips red and swollen.

"Look at what you’ve become," he purred, his voice a seductive whisper as he lowered himself down to speak in your ear, his chest on your back. "A filthy little thing, begging for me."

You felt his gaze, even more intimate in the mirrors reflection that looking directly at him.

His hands roamed your body once more, squeezing at your hips and your breasts.

“Take it off” he demanded in your ear, waiting for you to undress for him.

Without wasting another second, you started to unbutton your garments.

But even a second is too long- you find your clothes now on the floor torn in unmendable fashion as the dragon rips them off you, savagely graceful.

“Sylus-!” You pout, You wanted to argue, to demand that he listen, but all words died in your throat as you felt it—

“Oh? She’s finally quiet? You shouldn’t reveal what you like so easily.”

You really had no response, two thick, heavy shafts pressing against your bare skin. One nestled between the soft folds of your cunt, the other sliding along the curve of your ass. Your imagination ran wild, filling in the gaps where your vision failed in your compromised position. What would they look like up close? How would it feel to have them inside you, both at once?

Your hands gripped the edge of the bedrock sofa, looking at his large body hovering over you in the reflection of the mirror, his clawed hands running up and down your spine, pawing at your breasts, making you shiver and breathe raggedly.

"Do you like that?" he purred, his voice dripping with promise. "Do you want more?" He offered.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from him. He stared back at you, a blend of fear and longing could be seen in your eyes that made your heart ache. But it wasn't fear that drove you now; it was something far more primal, something that clawed at your insides. A deep, throbbing need that pooled low in your belly.

You could feel the weight of his shafts pressing insistently against you and more harshly as you prolonged your silence.

"Yes," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Please... I want it."

“Spread your legs," he commands, his voice low and rough. "Wider."

You obey without thinking, your thighs parting as far as they will go, exposing yourself completely to his scrutiny. The cool air of the cave brushes against your slick, sensitized flesh, making you gasp.

“Such a good girl," he murmured, “you’re going to take it all aren’t you?” He asks, his shafts both rubbing against your slicked heat, you could feel the tip of one shaft nudging at your entrance, slick with pre-cum that made your folds tingle with warmth while the other poked at your clit.

“Sy…lus-“ You dragged out, your head drooping down at his teasing gestures, it’s almost like he was waiting for you to let your guard down, because the minute you did…your head shot back up.

His initial thrust was slow, almost gentle, but it still sent a jolt of adrenaline through your system.

You gasped, your body arching instinctively as the thick length filled you, stretching you wide with both his cocks. It was overwhelming, almost too much, but there was no escaping it; not that you wanted to.

"That's it," Sylus purred, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos inside you. "Take it all, make me proud”, he teased.

The mirror across from you reflected the scene with cruel clarity, showing you sprawled out beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His thrusts were brutal, unrelenting. Each one hit deep, sending shockwaves of intensity through your body. You screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of the cave. Your vision blurred, tears streaming down your face as you clung to the edge of release.

Sylus followed your gaze, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight. "See how beautiful you are when you’re mine?" he taunted, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more savage. "See how perfect you look with me inside you?"

His large frame hovered right above you, back flush against his chest as he played with your tits, marking and sucking at your neck.

"Sylus... please... please..."

He kissed the tears from your cheeks, his lips trailing down to your jaw and shoulder as he mounted you from behind. "Almost," he murmured, his tips hitting the spongy spot inside your walls.

“So close…” you whimpered.

And then, without warning, he withdrew, leaving you empty and aching. You cry out in protest, reaching for him behind you with trembling hands.

"Please," you sobbed, your voice strained.

His large claws held your waist and flipped you onto your back, his knees spreading your thighs further, your eyes now stuck on the clear view of his cocks.

It was almost like you imagined- two slightly scaled shafts, longer and thicker than you’ve seen.

He made you watch, intently, as he rubbed them onto your aching and wet folds, slapping the tip on your cunt and watching you mewl as the vulgar gushing sounds echo in the cave.

"Please, let me come..." You beg.

He leaned in closer, his hands at each side of your head as his lips brushed against your ear. "Not yet," he whispered, his cocks plunging into you again with sudden, vicious force. "Not until you've earned it." He growled, his hips snapping against yours.

It was even deeper now- somehow, feeling your stomach bulge slightly, and he made sure you noticed.

“Oh sweetie- look at you, feel me right here?” He cooed, his fingertips tracing the shape of his cocks under your belly, hitting the spots inside you that made you almost pass out.

It was different this time, less frantic, more calculated. Each thrust was measured, aimed directly at those sensitive spots. His tail flicked against your clit, adding another layer of torment, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Sylus- Please!” You screamed, your hands gripping his shoulders so tightly, scratching at his upper back like a long clawed kitten.

"That's it," he purrs, his eyes dark with satisfaction. "Show me how much you want this."

You couldn’t even control the noises coming out of you, not from your mouth or your….

His red eyes glowed with amusement, and he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me," he demands, his voice a velvet rasp. "Tell me what you want.”

“I want…I need- I need to cum, please Sylus-“ You spoke in labored and ragged pants.

He responds in an instant, his cocks angling in a way that hits your sweet spot with pinpoint accuracy. The sensation is indescribable, a spike of pure ecstasy that sends you spiraling so tantalizing close.

"Come for me then," he growls, his voice a rough command. "Now."

The words act like a trigger, setting off a chain reaction within you. Your body seizes, muscles clenching tightly around his cocks as waves of pleasure crash over you in pure bliss.

“Fuck…” He growls close to your ear, feeling you release around him.

You could see your vision whiting out, stars exploding behind your eyelids as the orgasm rips through you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

But Sylus….oh he doesn't let up, his thrusts continuing even as you shake underneath him. He rides out your climax, milking it for all it's worth, his cocks driving you higher and higher until you think you might pass out from the sheer intensity of it, his cocks drilling in and out of you despite all the mess you’ve already made on them.

"Sylus... please..." you beg, your voice breaking on a sob. "I can't... I can't take it..."

“Oh? Can’t? We’ll see about that.” He says against the shell of your ear, his voice cracking and raspy as he’s close to spilling out into you, claiming you in a way no one else can ever replicate, not like this.

His cocks throb in rhythm with your racing heart, pounding you a handful more of times before filling you so completely that it feels as though he’s marking every inch of you. Sylus grunts, his body tensing as he spills his seed deep inside you. The hot, thick pulses of his release coat your insides, making you whimper with a mix of relief and raw desire.

Sylus leans down, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He tastes of cinder and sweat, and you melt into him, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasm, clinging to him.

His tongue delves deep, exploring every corner of your mouth as if claiming not just your body, but your very soul.

When he pulls away, your lips are swollen and tender, and you’re left gasping for air. But Sylus isn’t done with you yet. Not yet. He shifts his weight, pulling out of you slowly before his hands slide down your body until they find your hips again. With a firm grip, he spreads your legs wide as he kisses down your body.

“Stay still,” he commands, his voice low and guttural.

You obey, your body trembling without must resistance.

Then, without warning, his tongue flicks out, licking a trail from the bottom of your cunt to the very top. The sensation making you arch against his face.

“So sweet,” he purrs, his voice vibrating against your skin. “Let me taste you, sweet girl.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, his tongue delving between your folds, slicking them with his saliva as he laps at the mixture of his cum and your juices. The sensation is overwhelming, sending shivers down your spine as you hold onto his silver locks, trying to steady yourself as your hips continue to rock up into his eager mouth.

Sylus works you eagerly, his tongue flicking over your clit, then delving deeper to stroke your sensitive walls. Each pass of his tongue sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan and writhe beneath him.

It’s only when he stops sucking on your sensitive pearl, that you notice the dark red mark on your lower abdomen, a physical presence of his claim of you.

That bounty board won’t be seeing you anytime soon.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own