the date of your baby shower comes up, with both gojo and sukuna in the same room together. punches land, cupcakes fly, tears fall, all in the span of three hours.
PART 04: BABY SHOWER BEAT DOWN
PAIRING: frat! kuna x fem! reader x nerd! gojo
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. unplanned pregnancy. mention of injuries and a cupcake mishap. yorozu showing up.
NOTE: thank you to this asmr vid for inspiring the re-edit :3 i hope you all enjoy this mess đ
âitâs aââ
âoh my god, thereâs a fight breaking out!â
while every single part of this pregnancy had been unplanned, the baby shower was something youâd devoted nearly the last month into meticulously planning and putting together with what limited budget you had. from an organized registry (you didnât want to end up with 1000 same colored onesies and 0 diapers by the time the night was over), to party favors, and what food youâd be serving your guests.
gojo had been courteous enough to let you use his backyard for the event, though âbackyardâ was the understatement of the century. his parentsâ money had funded a condo for him ten minutes outside of campus, the space bigger than your dorm floor and then some.
the backyard itself could rival a football field, stretching from one corner of the street onto the next. in the middle of the neatly manicured lawn sat a large, pristine pool that sparkled each time the sun so much as hit it. probably unused if you had to guess. the lawn wasnât decorated as much as it was maintainedâone lounge chair set outside almost out of what seemed obligation and a filthy basketball hoop that looked like itâd seen better days.
but who were you to complain when it was more than enough space to host your get-together?
most of your morningâs spent putting up a flimsy banner in the doorway, spreading little bits of confetti throughout the place, and putting up the rest of decorations despite shokoâs insistence on you needing to rest. gojoâs condo went from a grey and light blue minimalistic space to being quickly adorned with pink, yellow, and blue balloons with teddy bears on nearly every surface.
youâd gone with a simple pink maternity dress, the material comfortable and flowy enough to where it didnât feel like your own clothes were trying to suffocate you. shoko joined in with the pink attireâclaiming she didnât want any more male energy in the dorm (sheâd love the baby regardless, though). and gojo had decided to go with a blue button down, saying he could just feel the little guyâs energy.
youâre still not fully convinced it wasnât just because it matched with his eyes.
the idea of hosting a baby shower without knowing that many people had seemed absurd when it was first suggested, but shoko invited a couple of her friends over, most of them arriving with a polite smile and a few gifts in hand. thereâs a few people you recognizeâgeto from intro to philosophy 101; utahime, who youâve seen shoko kissing in the hall when she thinks no oneâs looking; nanami from a culinary elective you took freshman year on a whim.
slowly but surely, more people start to trickle in. the house starts filling up, a light song starts to play in the background, and chatterâs heard through every corner of the yard. youâd spent the last month stressing about how itâd look, trying to make it perfect within your budget, that you just canât help but feel completely and utterly excited upon seeing the final result.
upon seeing everyone have a good time and enjoy what youâve put together with your friends.
sukuna appeared through the door two minutes after the time on the invitation, as if arriving any later would sever the thin string of your remaining patience (it would). he looks far better than he did when he came to your dorm two weeks ago: in a pink button down that stretches taut against his broad shoulders and sleeves that roll up to his elbows just to showcase how muscular his arms were.
if you werenât so pissed off at him, you wouldâve climbed him like a tree right then and there.
he places an elephant themed gift bag on the gifts table, making his way through gojoâs backyard. sukuna had resorted to asking toji for help on what to get, bitching to him for thirty minutes straight on how a blanket seemed like too little after everything. the man ended up picking out a play pen that ran him a good $200.
yorozu steps in behind him in a purple mini dress that rode up her legs with each step she took into the party, dressed more to go to a frat than a baby showerâstilettos adorning her feet as she moved around. who invited her, you werenât quite sure. still, as long as you didnât you have to interact with her, youâd be fine.
sukuna didnât pay her much attention. he makes a show of sitting alone in a corner, arms folded across his chest while he sulks broods in silence. itâs the first time heâs been at a party sober with a bunch of people he doesnât know. if it werenât for you, he mightâve considered leaving already.
the few people around him has gathered up into small groups until the other guests arrive, laughing and talking amongst themselves. heâs like a big, grey storm cloud on a sunny afternoon. the thought nearly has you giggle.
âiâll be right back.â shoko follows your gaze over to sukuna, a not so slick smile on her face when she pats your back.
âgood luck with that one.â
she goes off to talk with utahime while you pad across the backyard, taking a seat two chairs down. neither of you say anything, unsure of how to tread through this territory. you decide to take initiative, clearing your throat, âthank you for coming. i appreciate you showing up.â
sukuna lets out a quiet grunt, arms tightly wound across his chest. âyou asked me to come,â he easily responds, looking over your way and giving you a once over, âyâlook nice.â
âthank you, so do you.â the warm smile that you send his way makes his heart flutter, almost making him think he hasnât completely screwed this up. sukunaâs hands fall by his sides, his gaze going down to the bump. to his kid.
âhow are you doing?â his question makes you falter, just for the slightest second. everyone you come across mostly wants to know how the babyâs doing, how the pregnancyâs coming along, not how youâre doing. how youâre handling it.
a sigh leaves your lips, one of your hands coming up to rest on the top of your stomach. âitâs beenâŠhard. constantly aching and feeling like you canât breathe properly,â you hum, pausing for a second, considering your words before finally asking, âthe doctor said itâs supposed to be kicking more. you canât really feel it most of the time, but do you want to try?â
sukuna shrugs, swallowing dryly. his hand hovers near your belly, not close enough to touch it yet. he saw the way you scowled when someone randomly came up to you, without so much as a greeting, to rub your stomach. to coo at the baby. âyou sure you good with it?â
âmhm, you can put your hand on it,â you assure, watching as he slowly lets his hand settle on the bump. his fingers splay out across, trying to convince himself he feels a kick when itâs nothing at all. he doesnât feel anything but your stomach grumbling.
âyeah, you can really feel it,â he murmured, about to retract his hand when you place yours on top of his. itâs nice, itâs the only hint of intimacy heâs shared with you. he wants more of this, he comes to realize. he wants to raise the baby with you. a quiet laugh leaves your lips, âhold on, itâll come soon.â
nothing happens for a few seconds. nothing but just your hand on top of his, holding his down like an anchor. then it happens, a light nudge against his palm. a small smile breaks on his face at the feeling, at his babyâs movements. âsheâs a strong one.â
âyou think sheâs a girl, too? gojo thinks itâs a boy but iâm not convinced,â you murmur, the mood immediately dampened by the mention of his name.
still, sukuna tries to keep it chill. to pretend like the other manâs name doesnât grate on his name. so he simply just utters, âyeah, well, gojoâs an idiot.â
you lightly smack his arm but youâre giggling now, resting your palm across his shoulder. you didnât even seem to realize you were doing it. he wasnât keen on letting you know either. âhey, be nice, heâs the one helping me throw this thing together.â
you get pulled away by a couple of your friends wanting to play some kind of gameâwrapping your belly up in some kind of tape?âbut you give him a small wave beforehand. âiâll come see you later, okay? stay for the cake, at least.â
you donât manage to make it very far.
yorozu struts across the grass in record speed, a forced smile on her lips upon approaching you. âoh my god, hi! what a nice little party you have going on here, fitting for someone of your.. class,â she remarks, taking a look around. you feel your eye twitch just the slightest bit.
but, you would not let her see that she affected you. that you could practically see the look of disappointment on your ob-gynâs face after being unable to keep your blood pressure down. âis there something i can help you with?â you manage to get out through gritted teeth, forcing a somewhat polite smile into your face as well.
âoh no!â she lets out a little giggle, taking a champagne glass from a table nearby. âi just came by to say hi, itâs really hard to miss you! youâve really let yourself go, i wish i could have your confidence to walk around looking like that.â she vaguely gestures over to your swollen stomach.
âwell, itâs bound to happen when youâre growing a living being inside of you,â you retort dryly.
she doesnât listen to you. âyou know, i once thought that this would be me and sukuna. we had our whole life figured outâour marriage, three kids, a golden retriever, itâs truly such a shame,â she lets out a forlorn sigh, âi met his mom and everything, she absolutely loves me. are the two of you serious at all?â
whatever last bit of patience that youâd managed to have throughout this conversationâs quickly gone. âyou can have him if you want him! heâs all yours.â a couple heads turn to look at your outburst, but you donât dignify them with a response.
she doesnât need to be told twice.
yorozu sips down whatever last bit of champagne she had left before approaching sukuna, taking a seat right next to him. manicured fingers slid up his thigh, an enticing grin on her face. âkuna, i havenât seen you in forever. i miss you,â she whines, bottom lip jutting out into a pout.
sukuna pushes her hand away, letting out a scoff. âfor good reason. what do you want?â
if yorozu was in any way affected by the rejection, she didnât let him see him see it. instead, she grabbed her gift bag from the table, handing it over. âi brought you a little something! itâs not fair that only your.. baby mamaââ she barely manages to say it without her smile falteringââis the only one to get something.â
begrudgingly, sukuna takes the gift bag in hand, slowly starting to take out the tissue paper. he hooks a finger around the waist band of a thong, raising it up in the air. âyouâre serious?â he deadpans, shoving it back into the bag with more force than necessary.
âi havenât washed it.â as if thatâs supposed to make the offer more enticing. heâs about to lose his shit watching you giggle around gojo and here she comes talking about an unwashed thong. âjust because you got her pregnant doesnât mean youâre not allowed to have me around. i wonât say anything,â she adds in a purr, leaning forward to expose her cleavage.
sukuna forces himself to take a deep breath, rubbing a hand across his face. âi didnât want you around before she got pregnant and i donât want you around now.â
yorozuâs face shifted into an angry glare, a sharp nail digging into his chest. âi was half a virgin when i met you and i gave you everything,â she hissed out before regaining her composure. itâs scary how quick she is to smile once more. âjust let me know if you change your mind, okay?â
an hour passes of you being roped into game after game, from getting your belly measured to see how big the baby was, guessing baby food from about five different spoons (and wondering just how babies manage to stomach that goop), and even bobbing your head into a bowl of water to fish for a pacifier. itâs only after that last game that itâs finally time to cut the cake, that itâs time for the big reveal.
both sukuna and gojo come to stand by your side when itâs time for the reveal, each one sporting a scowl on their face. to them, it was obvious who should be the one next to you cutting the cake. themselves, duh.
âfuck are you doing here?â sukuna barks out when gojo tries to take hold of a wine cup, forcefully snatching it away from his slender fingers.
âand when have you been here for that to matter? when have you taken her to an appointment, when have you called her to check up how sheâs doing?â gojo prompts, snatching his glass right back.
you feel a headache coming on at just hearing the two of them exchange argument after argument right in your ear, taking the knife from its spot on the table.
âiâm doing it alone,â you speak up, both of their heads craning and twisting as they turn to look at you. a protest lies on each tongue but you raise a hand up, the decisionâs final.
the two of them reluctantly skulk away to a corner in the room, watching as the bets for the final guesses start coming through. itâs divided by now, 50/50 between the guests. âyou have some nerve, showing up here,â gojo whispers just loud enough for sukuna to pick up, a shit eating grin on his face.
sukuna had been determined to keep his calm throughout this party, had been determined to show you that he was deserving to be a part of your life. or least, that he was on the right path to becoming deserving. but he feels the already short fuse he has slowly running out, his teeth grinding against each other and his jaw clenched tightly with each one of gojoâs comments.
âhowâs it gonna feel like when the nerd you hate so much is the one raising your kid?â gojoâs voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, a smirk painted on his lips. he only gives you a small, innocent wave when you turn to face him. âkidâs not even gonna know youâre their d-â
POW. sukuna slammed his fist into the side of gojoâs face, knocking the other man off his feet. the taste of iron tinged on gojoâs tongue, blood dripping from his nose. even as everyone was staring, even as his knuckles bruised, sukuna didnât hesitate in landing another punch. a crack followed, gojoâs nose twisted and bloody.
satoruâs gravity shifted, one second on the ground and the other being held up like he weighed nothing. he tried to wrangle out of sukunaâs hold, holding his arms up when he realized it was futile, when he was slammed into a fucking table like it was a round of macho libre. napkins scattered, food splattered, drinks spilled, and the table cracked underneath the pressure.
sukunaâs chest heaves, looming over gojoâs body as he grips the poor boy by the collar of his shirt. âyou wanna fucking say that again?!â his voice booms, bloody fist raised up to the nerdâs face like heâs debating caving his face in. the knife in your hand clatters onto the table next to you, a loud gasp leaving your lips.
you rush over to gojoâs side, the poor boyâs glasses crooked and twisted across the bridge of his nose. his eyes were hazy and unfocused, struggling to follow the two fingers you were holding up. âhey, come on, focus,â you whisper, trying to at least get him to sit up. yorozu lets out a loud shriek from the back of the crowd, immediately rushing over to sukunaâs side. âbaby, look at me. this isnât you, just look at me.â
he shoves her hand away, paying her no mind. instead, he chooses to address you: âyouâre really gonna check up on that fucking nerd before you do me?â sukuna lets out a scoff, holding his bruised fist against his hand. his eyes are narrowed into thin little slits, practically seething at the sight of you next to him.
âhey, come on, letâs get inside,â shoko kneels over, patting gojoâs cheek. she hands him a glass of cool water, somehow managing to keep a 6â3 man upright enough to head back into the condo.
âarenât you gonna ask how iâm doing?â sukuna just had to poke the bear one more time.
âare you fucking serious?!â you snapped up, your body and voice shaking with pent up rage that you were barely holding together. sukunaâs eyes visibly widened, placing his hands up in a placating gesture. like you were the one in the wrong for getting pissed off.
âwoah, calm down. stressing out and shit isnât good for the baby.â he only had to make it worse. of course he did. you could practically strangle him at this point, standing up and jabbing a finger into his chest.
âyou donât get to fucking tell me to calm down when this is all your goddamn fault!
âthis whole pregnancy has been what you want! âoh, i donât wanna be a dad, get rid of it,â âoh, i changed my mind, i wanna be a part of your life,â âoh, iâm jealous of gojo so iâm gonna ruin my baby mamaâs baby shower.ââ phones started coming out, cameras not so discreetly pointed in the direction of your rant.
sukunaâs seen you in a variety of ways: from caring and soft spoken when you sat with him in the library going over problems, to loud and whiny when he had you moaning and writhing underneath him, annoyed when he tests the last remaining bits of your patience. but what heâs never seen is you look so goddamn angry before.
all he could do is stand there still, quiet, like heâs being scolded. sukuna waits for you to calm down, for your rage to subside. it didnât. the longer you stewed in your own anger, the worse that it became.
you grabbed the closest thing near youâa platter of pink and blue frosted cupcakes and smashed it right into his face. globs of cupcake batter and frosting drip down, dropping unceremoniously by his feet. your voice breaks as you speak, the sound cutting him just as deep as your words did, âget the fuck out. i never want to see you again.â
with frosting coating his hair and face and a broken ego, sukuna leaves. he scowls at everyone who gawks his way during his walk of shame, though its not as effective when he looks like the pillsbury man. yorozuâs heels clack against concrete, the girl running as she follows him out into the street. you could distinctly hear the sound of his horn resounding in the background, over and over again like he was beating his frustration onto the wheel.
tears run down your cheeks, streaks running down the makeup youâd spent a while sitting in front of a mirror for. your body racked with each sob that left your lips, one of your hands coming up to cover your mouth. everyoneâs staring, everythingâs too much. shokoâs rubbing her hand against your shoulder, trying to make you feel better to no avail.
everything hurtsâthe straps of your heels dig into the back of your swollen ankles with each step you take, thereâs a dull, persistent ache in your lower back, worsened now that youâve been standing for so long, and you canât even drink a glass of water without immediately rushing to the bathroom.
and to top it all off, your bumpâs been rubbed by every person who thinks they have a right to. as if itâs nothing more than just a magic eight ball for them to come up to. all the things you couldâve cried over and you were crying over this. over sukuna.
you canât believe you couldâve been this stupid, this stupid to think that sukuna would finally start to get his act together. to think that you could have a day to yourself where it didnât end up revolving around him for once.
this is still a baby shower, you have to remind yourself. your grip on the handle of the knife shakes, your shoulders shaking with silent tears racking through your body. hastily, you wipe away every drop clinging onto your waterline with the back of your hand. completely and effectively smudging the rest of your mascara.
slowly, your knife cuts through the buttercream frosting to reveal the dyed inside. whatâs supposed to be one of the things you were most looking for throughout this pregnancy has now turned into you trying not to cry. torturously slow, you drag the knife out inch by inch. the tipâs coated in a bright pink color.
âitâs a girl.â you deadpan, the exploding sound of the confetti doing nothing to lift up the atmosphere. every guest stands in silence for a few minutes, gazes going from each other before scattered claps echo through the backyard. âyay, team girl!â someone even awkwardly tries to chime in before they were hushed.
it doesnât take long for the guests to leave after that, some of them claiming they had plans theyâd completely forgotten about until conveniently this moment. some were more slick about it, claiming that it was just time to go home. but the one thing that they all shared in common, were the looks of sheer and utter pity on their face.
you make your way back inside, giving shoko a small smile. âhey, thanks for coming. i can handle it from here, itâs my fault anyways.â sheâs reluctant to leave, staying at least for a couple more minutes only to make sure gojo didnât have some kind of concussion afterwards. or that his nose wasnât completely broken.
after her little impromptu testing sheâs managed to pick up from her shifts at the clinic, she decides heâs doing good for the meantime. âokay, iâll see you at home. take care and try to put some ice on his wound, would you?â you nod at her instructions, giving her a small side-hug before she makes her way out.
âd-did i win?â gojo mumbled as he finally came to, a wince leaving his lips when your fingertips brushed against the forming bruise on his cheek. a small laugh left your lips at the question, shaking your head in quiet amusement.
âsure you did,â you murmur in response, placing a bag of peas you found buried in the fridge on the injury. a quiet moment of silence passes between you, one of his hands reaching out to intertwine with yours. his thumb lightly rubbed circles on the back of your hand, the action soothing and gentle.
gojo clears his throat, struggling to meet your gaze as he spoke up, âiâm sorry. i didnât mean to cause a scene on your big day, i know youâre going through a lot of stress right now and i probably shouldnât have tried to mess with sukââ his rambling was cut short with a feeling of plush lips against his own.
now sure, gojo could claim he was a gentleman and pretend like he hadnât been thinking about this moment. but he he had, every time that you came around his close proximity, heâd imagine the taste of your lips. imagine how theyâd feel against him, then chastise himself afterward.
he was determined to be a support system. he was determined to keep this strictly platonic. he should push you off. and satoru, bless satoru, he tries. instead, his fingers move to the nape of your neck, a quiet moan heâs all to eager to swallow leaving your lips. heâs awkward at first, unsure of what to do, before heâs kissing you with much more purpose.
his hypothesis was sooo wrong. heâd predicted kissing you would be good. just good. kissing you feels extraordinary, feels like heâs about to levitate from his body and go straight into the gates of heaven. nothing about his deepest fantasies couldâve prepared him for just electrifying kissing you was.
sukuna was aggressive in every form of the word, kissing you as if he needed you like the very oxygen that fills his lungs. but satoru was much more gentle, treading through the waters with much more caution, still just as eager though. his other hand comes to your hip, lightly squeezing at the flesh before tugging you all that much closer to him.
his lips move languidly against your own, capturing yours like a missing puzzle piece. his teeth lightly pull at your bottom lip, dragging a shuddered breath from you as his tongue slots in your mouth. he seeks to move in tandem, to figure things out with you as you go, rather than dominate.
you pull away to catch your breath, his lips chasing after yours before pulling away. your fingers coming up to rest on your lips. slowly, your eyes flutter open to see satoru was already staring at you, like he already wanted to kiss you all over.
and so you do. you let him kiss you again. and again. and again until your hands fisted the material of his button down.
oh fuck, you kissed gojo satoru. and you liked it.
Synopsis: When you return to your hometown to visit your aunt for the summer, you plan on finding a suitor and marrying into money the way your family has prophesied for you for years. You just donât expect that suitor to be Gojo Satoru, cocky, popular country artist and heartthrob. And the man whose heart you broke years ago after he got you pregnant. You werenât ready for his world then and you tell yourself that youâre not now. But when he offers you a friendly drink after his show, how can you refuse the starlit hottie? And how will you tell him that heâs the father of your child?Â
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse AU; Small Town Romance AU; Country Boy!Reader x Country to City Girl!Reader; Exes to Lovers; College Romance Trope; Accidental Pregnancy; T/W for Abortion Talk; Highkey Flirting; Sexual Tension; Love Confession; Public Sex; Outdoor Sex; Cunnilingus; Mommy Bod Worship; Sundress Season; Spanking; Tittyfuck; Deepthroat; Riding; Fucking From Bottom; Mating Press; Daddy Kink; Tongue Piercing; Dick Piercing; Switch!Gojo x Switch!Reader; Breeding Kink; Raw Creampie; Aftercare
Word Count: 13.4k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!Â
Writer's Note: I finished this early lmaooo so here's my VERY FIRST INSTALLMENT FOR MY GOOD BELLE SERIES!!! I hope y'all enjoy reading!! <3 -love, Jazz
Credits: Gojo art above by 1004_shvn! Dividers by @chachachannah & @kodaswrld!
Read on AO3 HERE!
âUtahime, why the hell are we at a concert venue? You said we were goinâ out to dinner!âÂ
You sit next to your friend in the concert venue, somewhere close to the front on the ground level but not quite dead in front of the stage. You glare at the long-haired girl among the crowd of eager country fans in their cowboy hats and boots, mostly women and girls, from high school students to college girls to older ladies in their golden years.Â
âWe just did!â Utahime protests, barely looking away from teasing her long, black locks in her phone under her cowboy hat that she bought from the merch station. âA very hearty steak dinner if I can remember correctly. Those BuzzBallz are talkinâ to me.âÂ
The BuzzBallz she consumed in your Uber ride on the way to the concert that she didnât tell you about when you thought you were going to see a movie. You shouldâve known something was up since Utahime was wearing her sexy halter top, denim mini skirt, and told you to dress in your âMILFy bestâ for tonightâs festivities.Â
You threw on your favorite wedges and sundress for the occasion, the kind with spaghetti straps and skater ruffles that compliment your curves given to you by your baby. Why didnât you question Utahime then? âOh, no, no,â you groan, pinching your sinuses. âMy aunt is gonna kill me! She thinks weâre out havinâ a fancy, quiet dinner and a movie!âÂ
That was why you aunt had you take a break from her âlessonsâ about finding a suitable husbandâlessons that included attending endless parties around your small town in the upper crust world of Southern society with your daughter in tow (for some anyway; for others, your aunt had her personal maid watch her).Â
âAnd she can still think that!â Utahime argues, wrapping an arm around her neck. âIf you look at it my way, this is a movieâŠjust with a really hot country singer in his jeans flexinâ his cute butt and his big dââÂ
âUtahime,â you firmly say, cutting her off. âDonât even. My aunt would have your head if she found out how you were talkinâ to her niece.â Your friend laughs, waving off your warning. âOh, please! That woman adores me!âÂ
And itâs true. Your aunt doesnât like many people in this world, but she likes your longtime friend Utahime. She considers Utahime to be someone that was 100% there for you during your pre material pregnancy and the dark time afterwards fueled by postpartum depression and transiting from small town to city life.Â
âPlus, this will getcha a chance to come out and have some fun, girl,â she giggles with a wink at you. âAnd find your pretty ass a suitor. Ya think your folks will appreciate any of the fine cowboys in this crowd?âÂ
âPlease,â you chuckle and take a sip of your beer, feeling the alcoholâs affects; you had a BuzzBall in the car so you feel a slight throb and a comfortable flush. âMy aunt is lookinâ for the highest payinâ bidder for me and mine. If he wants me then heâs gonna have to want my baby too.âÂ
Utahime applauds that, raising her beer high. âOooh, so we cruisinâ for a brand new daddy for little Tara too! Iâm on board!âÂ
Then you feel your phone vibrate in her crossbody, already knowing who it is. âSpeakinâ of whichâŠâ You answer the phone, smiling. âHey, Auntie!â you shout. âHowâsââÂ
âY/N, where ever are the juice boxes you provided for Tara?â she immediately snaps, her Southern accent twinging her words. You have to hold the phone away from your ear because of how loud she is. âShe keeps askinâ for me these God-forsaken apple juice packages!âÂ
You giggle at your daughterâs antics, knowing your aunt would have her hands full with the little 5-year old. âCheck her Hello Kitty duffle in the guest room. Itâs full of her snacks.âÂ
Your aunt scoffs, ever the haughty older Southern belle through and through, wearing her church hats and every piece of jewelry she owns. âYouâre spoilinâ this child too much, you know. Soon, sheâll be as plump as a tomato and hard to control!âÂ
You roll your eyes at her lecture, knowing damn well your aunt insisted you bring Tara along for the trip to her estate for the summer. Your aunt spoils everything she loves, including her poodles. âIâll keep that in mind, Auntie. Sorry.âÂ
There is a sudden whoop from the background and a beer bottle breaking, making you flinch. âWhat was that?â she asks. You feel your blood run cold and quickly, you look for an escape. âNothinâ, Auntie! Gotta go, love you and Tara-bear, bye bye!â Then you hang up and huff in relief. âThat was close. I was in for an earful.âÂ
An earful about how being at a concert with a bunch of drunks and girls in daisy dukes isnât âproperâ. Your aunt is very old schoolâand rather internally misogynisticâ, so she swears up and down that to be a sophisticated young woman in high society is the way to get menâŠat least the type of men she and your folks are trying to pair you with.Â
Doctors, lawyers, politicians, councilmen, etc. You only went along with this trip not in the hopes of finding a respectable man to eventually marry but to come back home and get out of the city for the summer season. And to finally hush up your folks who keep asking you, âY/N, when are you gonna find a daddy for Tara and get married?â Not that you told your aunt this though.Â
âWell, sheâll be less rough with you once we getcha a new man.â Utahime wiggles her eyebrows at you while you just sigh, pinching your sinuses. âI donât even know why I agreed to this, Utahime. I ainât interested in no man but my family swears itâll benefit me and Skylar.âÂ
âThen maybe you should trust âem,â Utahime suggests with a comforting smile. âCity men are different from the ones here, honey. You know that!â When she turns away to take photos of the stage, you frown at her statement, thinking of one Southern man in particular. âTell me about it,â you grumble.Â
Luckily, she doesnât hear you. âAnd if you donât get a relationship or a shiny diamond ring, thereâs always somethinâ else you can get out of a Southern man here.â She gives you an not-so-friendly smirk thatâs so suggestive that it would make a nun blush. âShut up, you slut,â you snort. âYouâre so nasty.âÂ
âLady, whenâs the last time you got yourself some dick, girl?â she scoffs. âSeriously! Youâre a fuckinâ MILF and no city guys were bustinâ your door in?âÂ
âA woman with a kid ainât as hot as you think,â you laugh. âAnd besides, I wasnât interested. I only came here to get out of the city and introduce my daughter to my hometown.âÂ
Utahime is that friend that swears that sex is the answer to everything, especially sex with no strings attached. Though she is a romantic like you, she participates in weekend hookups and swimming through dating apps for her latest catch of the night.Â
You used to do the same, but after realizing how fucking weird men act around women with kidsâeither fetishizing them or ghosting them entirelyâ, you decided that you were better suited to be alone. However, you canât deny the loneliness that creeps in late at night when Tara is fast asleep and itâs only you.Â
No school, no PTA meetings, no trips to the ice cream parlor or the park to keep your 5-year old occupied during the summer. Just you and your tiger strips, full breasts, thick thighs, and an aching need for companionship and affection.Â
âWell, just think about it,â Utahime says, tossing an arm around you. âAnd have some fun tonight! You deserve some time off from beinâ a mommy!âÂ
You smile, raising your beer to match hers. âCheers,â you giggle, clinking your beer bottle with hers. You turn back to the stage, noticing that instruments have been set up and the staff is done testing the pyro, smoke machines, and the microphones. âNow whereâs this heartthrob everybodyâs here for? Who is he anyway?âÂ
Utahime looks excited to tell you. âYou remember that kid from homeroom back in college?â she asks. âThe one who left for California after we graduated?âÂ
But before you can answer her, the lights shut off and the entire venue explodes in frenzied cheering and excited screams that make you cover your ears where your gold hoop earrings dangle. Even Utahime is screaming, holding her phone up to record.
âLadies and gents!â a disembodied female voice yells into the mic. âIntroducinâ the one youâve all been waitinâ so patiently forâŠthe heartthrob with the ocean bluesâŠthe reason for âeverythinâ is big in Texasâ...Gojo Satoru!âÂ
WaitâŠGojo Satoru? Your Gojo Satoru? The man whose heart you broke into two all those years ago before you left for the city? âOh, no,â you gasp. Utahime looks over at you, concerned. âWhatâs wrong?â she asks.Â
You canât answer her. It feels like there is a ball in your throat that wonât go away no matter how much you swallow. It only gets worse when the man youâve been thinking about for five years pops out of the stage in the most sinfully tight denim jeans and white tank top known to man, each muscle on full display.Â
He wears a leather jacket with a black cowboy hat and matching boots with his outfit along with dangling dog tags that he used to wear back in college when you started secretly dating. He has ditched the glasses, now wearing contacts that make those intense, attractive blues pop, and he is so confident and self-assured whereas in college, he was just putting on a front. Â
He was the small-town college boy who played guitar during his free time and had big dreams of being a singer. Dreams that you believed in. But when he started getting recognized after blowing up on YouTube and asked you to come with him to California when he got a record deal, you got scared. You backtracked.Â
Especially after you found out you were pregnant with his baby after that night. The night he asked you to leave with him. The night you broke things off with him for good. The night your love was forever fractured and you promised to never tell him you were carrying his baby.Â
Then you graduated college and headed for the city, he left for Cali, and you never saw him againâŠuntil now, five years later. Looking at him now, all those old memories and feelings you thought were long buried come rushing back.Â
He smiles that white-toothed, dimpled smile that always gave you butterflies. His silvery-white hair and blue eyes startle you, especially since your Tara has inherited both. âWhatâs goinâ on, yâall?â he hollers into the mic. âYâall come to party with lilâ olâ me tonight?â The crowd erupts into frenzied screams and cheering. Gojo laughs, strutting up to the mic where his guitar is waiting for him. âAww, thank you kindly! Iâll make sure itâs an extra special show for yâall âcause Iâm back home!âÂ
He then straps the guitar to his slim waist as his band comes out onto the stage. He introduces them all: Shoko on the bass; Nanami on the secondary guitar; Geto on the drums. And as the strumming of guitars and the banging of the drums hit your eardrums, vibrating through your body, Gojo begins to sing.Â
His voice is silky and sweet yet seductive, sweetened by his Southern accent that never left him despite Cali. It makes you tremble and your heart pound as you sit there, rigid, your beer in hand. The worst part is that youâre forced to sit and watch all of it.Â
Well, youâre not forced, but you also canât move due to the bodies pressed tight against you in the seats. Youâre also too transfixed to look away. Gojo is truly a star, moving across the stage with his long legs; doing choreography and belting out all kinds of impressive vocals; strumming his guitar with those long fingers that used to touch your body.Â
He is meant for this world, as you thought so long agoâŠand youâre not.Â
Thirty minutes later, Gojo has changed into a simple black wife beater that sinfully hugs his muscles and faded jeans. He dabs his face drenched in sweat with a towel, all of his band and dancers gone backstage. âMy goodness, yâall are makinâ me sweat!â he whistles. âIâm gonna have to strip a lilâ bitâŠyâall donât mind, do ya?âÂ
He gives a cheeky smile to the crowd that squeals and screams for whatâs coming next. Turning around, Gojo flexes his back muscles as he strips off his wife beater, showing off the back tattoos inked into his tan skin. You swear, you nearly choke on your beer.Â
âGod, heâs so hot!â Utahime groans, smiling at you. âAinât he hot? Now thatâs a man you should make your new suitor, honey!â But you kind of already did that. He was hot even back in school, but now? The motherfucker is walking sex. California and fame did something to him.
You can barely breathe when he turns around, revealing the lipstick print on his right hip where his jeans are dangerously low on his V-line. He tosses his sweaty towel into the crowd where two middle-aged women begin to fuss over it. âNo fightinâ now,â he chuckles. âWeâre all grown folk here. We all family tonight, right, yâall?âÂ
He grins wider when the crowd erupts in agreement, cell phone lights flashing like stars at him. âThen allow me to make myself a lilâ more comfortable. Weâre gonna slow it down a bit while my dancers get a breakâŠ.but not me. I can go all night.âÂ
Oh, he most definitely could. âStop it!â you think to yourself.Â
Gojo then drags the stool closer to the edge of the stage. If you werenât sitting three aisles away from the stage, youâd be right in front of him. You swear, you go completely catatonic, unable to speak or breathe as he sits on his stool with his guitar, completely stripped down and intimate, the spotlight illuminating his handsome face.Â
âThis next song is about a very special someone,â he says silkily. âA lot of you may know this one, but not about its backstory. This is for someone that I used to be with many moons ago that left for a life without me in it.âÂ
Oh, no. You grip your beer and go to drink more for liquid courage, but you realize that you drank it all.
âItâs about beinâ in love with someone you shouldnât be âcause they ainât with you no more. Itâs about forgivinâ that person for breakinâ your heart, but never trulyâŠâ And then his eyes lock on you. Somehow, as those ocean blues are grazing the audience, they land directly onto your face after so long of looking and not quite seeing you. Now, there is no hiding.Â
Gojoâs eyes widen slightly at the sight of you and you know that he recognizes you immediately. âForgettinâ,â he finishes. âHoly shit.âÂ
The fans surrounding you immediately turn to either look at you or around you, wondering who the hell has got Gojo Satoru so starstruck. You canât breathe or look away, too locked down by those pretty eyes that have haunted you for so long.Â
âIs he lookinâ at you, Y/N?â Utahime gasps. You donât answer; you canât. Finally, the moment passes when Gojo blinks and clears his throat, smiling at the crowd. âU-Uh, sorry. Thought I saw somebody I knewâŠprobably. Looks like my old teacher is in this crowd too!âÂ
He points into one of the upper seats where, sure enough, a man wearing a shirt with Gojoâs face plastered on it is screaming while his two daughters look entirely embarrassed. Gojo laughs as he recovers while you havenât, still standing there dumbfounded. âYâall sing the words if you know this one. This is âOnce In A Whileâ.âÂ
He begins to play and the song is slow, sappy, and sweet. The lyrics are poetic and beautiful yet sorrowful, his silky voice curling around each word. You stare, unable to look away, as he croons into the mic. âGirl, you okay?â Utahime asks, holding your hand. You turn to her, noticing her worry. âYeahâŠthis song is just really sad.âÂ
Itâs a good lie because itâs also true. You manage to hold back your tears as Gojo continues to sing, looking so in his element and passionate as he sings. It tears at your heart and makes you want to bolt, but you stay, letting the song wash over you.Â
Thankfully, the show is over thirty minutes later. Gojo and his dancers take a big bow as the stage erupts into streamers and confetti, everyone wearing pink cowboy boots. Gojo looks so sexy in pink, the fuchsia tank top and boots bringing something feral out of you.
âYâall have a good night now! See ya soon!â He blows kisses and raises his beefy arms to wave as he is taken down from the stage, tossing a guitar pick at a random fan before he is finally gone.Â
You and Utahime wait until a good portion of the seats have cleared out before you venture out into the stadium to get something to eat. You decide on something small and get in line for the fry stand, famous for serving fries with all kinds of toppings, cheeses, and sauces. While Utahime is still beaming about the show, you just want to head home and tuck your head under the covers for good.
âWhat a show!â she dreamily sighs. âAnd what a fuckinâ man. Howâd you like it, honey?â She looks at you expectantly and her smile pains you. How can you tell her that the whole time, you were regretting your life choices staring into the ocean-blue eyes of your ex? âU-UmâŠit wasââÂ
âOmigod, Y/N?!â someone shouts from behind you. âUtahime! Girls, I canât believe itâs really yâall!â You turn around, finding a slender, fit girl standing there in cut-off shorts, cowboy boots, and a snakeskin tank top. You recognize her dark green bob and instantly being screaming in excitement. âOh, my goodness, Mai!â you squeal. âYouâre one of the dancers?!âÂ
You wrap your around her tight, feeling her dancer muscles. Mai used to be a cheerleader back in college, so it makes sense that sheâd become a backup dancer for a career choice. âYes, maâam! Been on the road with Satoru for months now; he hired me last year for his tour.âÂ
She gives Utahime a big squeeze too, your old friendship renewed after so much time and different paths. âSo you girls are still livinâ here?â she asks, a hand on her hip. âY/N, did you move back? Last time I heard, you moved to the city.âÂ
Utahime proudly answers that sheâs still living in town, not being able to drop her gig at the childrenâs hospital. âIâm just here for the summer with the little one,â you explain and Mai melts at the mention of your daughter. âOh, yeah, little Tara! I hope I can see her before you leave us again. Oh, before yâall leave, come meet the crew real quick!âÂ
Despite your better judgment, you follow Mai backstage away from the chaos of fans trying to leave the stadium and enter the world of the business of fame: stage staff, towel people, and the beautiful dancers and instrumentalists that Mai introduces you to. Though youâre happy to meet them, youâre also scared to run into Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. You find yourself looking down each corner and behind you as if heâs fucking Freddy Krueger ready to slash you in the back.Â
âHey, if you girls are down for some more fun, me and the crew are goinâ to the bar later for some drinks,â Mai says, rolling out the welcome wagon for some more fun with the famous people. She gives you a wink that she was famous for back in college, meaning that youâre in for some trouble tonight.Â
âBet, Iâm down!â Utahime squeals, down for the chance for some drinks with the band. But you, however, are already planning to excuse yourself from the festivities in fear of running into your baby daddy. âUh, actually, Mai, I think I shouldââÂ
âMai, you flirtinâ with my fans again?â Suddenly, a silky voice hits your eardrums as it explodes down the hall. All of you turn and suddenly, youâre staring into the handsome face of the one you were trying so hard to avoid tonight.Â
Gojo is standing there in the flesh, no longer a memory or a dream conjured by a moment of horniness in the dead of night. He is in sweats and a tank top that hangs off of his muscular body, a towel wrapped around his neck. Seeing him is like a slap in the face and you can barely breathe.Â
The singer looks momentarily starstruck at the sight of you, but then that cocky smirk comes sliding back onto his lips as he saunters up to you. Almost as if heâs been waiting for this moment to arrive. âOh, my God!â Utahime gasps, grabbing your arm rather roughly. âHeâs even hotter in person!â You donât reply, too cottonmouth to do anything but stare when the country hottie finally stops in front of you.Â
He casually smiles at you, those blue eyes sparkling with mirth. âWell, well...look who snuck backstage and decided to come crawlin' back to her favorite country boy. Guess city life wasn't as pretty as me, was it, darlin'?"
And just like that, the regret you felt for breaking his heart earlier goes right out the fucking window. âStill cocky as always, Satoru,â you sigh.Â
Mai looks between you both. âHold upâŠyâall two know each other?â she asks, looking confused as all hell. âAm I missinâ somethinâ?â Even Utahime looks clueless. You meet Gojoâs eyes and silently plead with him to not tell. To give you mercy.Â
And he does. âWe went to college together before I dropped out,â he explains. Iâm an old friend of Y/Nâs back when she lived here. He lies for you and that immediately makes you feel bad. So you come clean. After all, youâre adults, right? âWe used to date,â you admit. âThen after I applied to Masterâs school after college, I moved away to the city.âÂ
Utahime gapes at you, shocked. You try not to look at her, feeling guilt for never telling her this. âWow, really?!â Mai gasps. âYou never told me that, Gojo!â She nudges him hard in the ribs, making him grunt.Â
âDidnât know I had to,â he grumbles, playfully swatting Mai away like sheâs a fly. "So yâall ladies enjoy the show?â He gives you that white-toothed smile again that seems to hook you the same way it used to.Â
Utahime eagerly nods. âAbsolutely! This one cried durinâ one of your songs.â She nudges you and you contemplate murdering her with your cowboy boot. Gojo places a hand on his heart, playfully poking his pink bottom lip out where his lip ring dangles. âAw, damn, my bad. Wouldnât wanna make a pretty lady cryâŠwith my song anyhow.âÂ
You catch the glint in his eye at his little slip of a sexual innuendo but you ignore itâŠand the throb in your panties. This isnât the time to be thirsting after your ex AND your secret baby daddy!
âI invited them to come with us for drinks,â Mai announces to the singer. "Itâs not everyday you bump into some old friends.âÂ
Gojoâs eyes widen a bit, surprised at the prospect of you coming along for drinksâŠand then a satisfied smirk plays on his lips. Uh-oh. âNo, it ainât,â he agrees, his eyes sliding over to you and Utahime. âYâall should! Iâll gladly get a car for you girls or you can hitch a ride on my tour bus.âÂ
Utahime starts to reply, obviously wanting a personal ride in his tour bus, but you stop her. âA ride is fine,â you defeatedly say. âJust one drink will be nice.â You emphasis the number mostly for yourself; alcohol brings nothing but trouble. And you have enough trouble running into Gojo.Â
The singer nods, happy with your answer. âIâll get yâall that car thenâŠbut Iâm gonna need your number for that.â His satisfied, smug smile is so irritating that you want to smack him. Begrudgingly, you give him your number along with Utahime who is way more eager and even adds emojis when Gojo lets her.Â
âGreat! See you two tonight.â He gives you a small wink that only you catch before he saunters off, that firm yet bubble butt that could make male models cry swaying in his jeans.Â
Mai bids you farewell before Utahime turns to you, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. âI know, I know, Iâve got a lot of explaininâ to do,â you sigh.Â
Your friend grabs your arm, pulling you to the nearest exit. âDamn right, missy,â she tuts. âThe hell do you mean you used to date Gojo Satoru in college?! Why didnât you tell me this?! And how didnât the whole town know?!âÂ
This was gonna be a very long night.Â
When you finally finish telling your friend your story, you feel like you should sell it to a Hollywood agent for a movie.Â
Utahime sits in the ride share with you that Gojo ordered to transport you to the barâa nice sports car with blasting AC, complementary water bottles, and comfy seatsâ, staring at you like you just finished telling her that youâre God.Â
âOkay, wait,â she says. âSo youâre tellinâ me that you and Gojo secretly dated back in college âcause you didnât want your family findinâ out about him, he got you pregnant before he dropped out of school and went to Hollywood, so you lied about goinâ to school in the city just to get an abortion?âÂ
You nod, nervously toying with the loose thread on your sundress. âYeah, thatâs the gist of it.â Utahime huffs, shaking her head in awe. âJeez, honeyâŠand I thought I had men problems.âÂ
âIâm sorry I didnât tell you,â you say, feeling horribly guilty. âYou know my aunt wouldâve killed me if she found out I was datinâ in college andââÂ
âGirl, I don't care about that!â she scoffs. âBut didnât you tell me about that other thing? I wouldâve gone to the city with you!âÂ
You feel your eyes bubble with tears, loving that your friend doesnât blame or bash you for your decision. âI didnât tell anyone. Only my family knew and my aunt paid top dollar to get me the procedure out of state. After that, I just made my life in the city.âÂ
Initially, you planned to get an abortion and your family decided out of state would be better since your small town liked to talk like high school girls in a locker room. But once you got a look at the little blip in your tummy, you changed your mind and kept the babyâŠbut you never told Gojo.Â
You hid your relationship with him back in college to avoid it getting back to your parents and wealthy aunt who paid to put you in the best school in your town. Originally, it was just a fling that turned into something more. You fell for Gojo and his talent.Â
But overtime as his popularity got bigger and his world was becoming a little too big for you, you got scared. You jumped ship. You couldnât think of a life with him in fear of him getting sick of small-town you and leaving you for a Hollywood bombshell.Â
You thought that breaking things off was for the bestâhe could focus on his career and you could focus on your futureâŠand your baby girl. But still, as years passed, the temptation to check online to see how he was doing stuck around. You wondered if he ever made it his dream come true; now, years later, you see that he absolutely has.Â
âAnd youâre still okay with seeinâ him again?â Utahime wonders aloud. âWe can always turn around and get that hotel.â You smile, affectionately patting her hand. âNah, I need the drink. Plus, I wouldnât wanna ruin your fun with my sob story.âÂ
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. âPlease! How often do you fuck a famous country singer and get knocked up with his kid? Your life is literally a country song, doll!â You knock your knee with hers and you two laugh among each other as the car suddenly comes to a stop. âLadies, youâve arrived,â the driver announces.Â
And just like that, your heart falls into your ass. Utahime gives you a comforting smile as you get out of the car and stand in front of the glowing sign of the cowboy-themed dive bar. âAnd donât worry; Gojo wonât know. Your secret is safe with me, always. Now letâs go getcha that drink!âÂ
She interlaces your fingers as you walk into the bar together, immediately bombarded with the sounds of loud country music, chatter, and the clinking of pool cues against the colorful balls as they roll along a pool table on your left. On your right is a mechanical bull and darts. In front of you is a bar where Gojoâs crew is situated, sitting on stools among the fake bull head mounted on the wall over a rack of booze bottles.Â
âTheyâre here!â Mai shouts, the first to greet you and Utahime in her cowgirl outfit. She gives you both a hug, already buzzed from a couple shots. âLetâs get yâall some drinks!â
For the next ten minutes, you donât see Gojo even though you search for him. You canât seem to calm down despite the cool beer in your hand and the sweet company that he keeps. You chat with his bandmates about living in the city while Utahime is busy blushing around Shoko, the bassist, as she smokes her cigarette before he finally arrives, causing his crew to cheer and raise their glasses to him.Â
âMy bad, yâall,â he huffs, grinning that perfect grin. âAgent was in my ear about the next stop. Managed to get us two days off, so letâs get fucked up and enjoy âem!â But as he looks towards the bar, his eyes lock on you instantly, almost as if he was waiting for you.Â
You swallow hard, gulping down more beer in an effort to drain your nerves as he takes a seat next to you on the stool. He is wearing a crisp white tee, jeans, boots, and dog tags that make you think of some sinful things. He smells of pine and spiced cinnamon, the tempting aroma driving you to insanity.Â
After hailing down the bartenderâwho isnât too busy since Gojo rented out the entire barâfor a drink, he slings one beefy arm over the bar and gazes at you. âSo you actually showed up,â he scoffs. âDidnât expect that since you seemed so horrified to see me.âÂ
You side-eye him, sipping your beer and tapping your fingers to the music on the bar. âIâd beg to differ,â you retort. âBut then again, I wouldnât be too happy âbout seeinâ small town folk from my past either. Youâre a big star now.âÂ
Gojo chuckles, the sound too sexy for words. âOn the contrary, darlinâ; Iâm always happy to see some old friends. You girls want some shots?â You now notice that Utahime has come wandering over, tipsier than earlier. âYes, please! And your bassistâs number too.âÂ
You gape at her while Gojo tosses his head back and laughs, the sound making your tummy flip. You know that you probably shouldnât mix drinks, but you canât resist the temptation of some liquid courage around your old boyfriend. You donât know why you feel so jittery and jumpy around him.Â
After Gojo gets a personal round of tequila shots with some lime slices on the side, he places them in front of you and Utahime. You go for a particular glass at the same time as Gojo, causing you to brush hands. Utahime doesnât notice, too busy swaying to the music. Quickly, you tear your hand away from Gojoâs as if youâve been burned, his soft skin and the veins running through his palm shocking you to your core.Â
If Gojo is hurt, he doesnât show it, instead picking up a different shot glass. âMy bad,â he murmurs, his eyes gazing into yours. You avert your eyes, not wanting to see whatâs in his. Then he raises his glass and clears his throat. âCheers. To old and new friends.âÂ
Clink go your shots before you down them. You relish the delicious burn of the tequila before it instantly goes to your head, making it feel light while the rest of you feels heavy. You have to back up off of the booze for a moment to recuperate while Utahime wanders off to chat some more with Shoko.Â
Leaving you alone with Gojo. It is awkward and odd, the tension thick like Southern heat. But also comfortable. Youâre afraid of that. Gojo was always easy to talk to and things havenât changed. He clears his throat, trying to start some conversation since you wonât. âSo howâd ya wind up back here? Last time I heard, you were in the big city doinâ big girl things.âÂ
He gives you an easy smile that almost makes you crack. âI still am; Iâm just here for the summer with my aunt.âÂ
He nods, downing his shot in one go. You watch his Adamâs Apple bob. Damn him. âAh, the epitome of Southern etiquette. She always hated me.â You chuckle to yourself, nodding. âMmm-hmm. Said you was troubleâŠand she wasnât wrong.âÂ
Gojo raises a brow at you. âWhatchu mean?â You smirk knowingly at him. âDid you forget about all the skinny-dippinâ and ditchinâ class for joyrides?â you chuckle. The singer grins wide, his eyes sparkling from the memories. "Ya got me there, darlinâ. Not to mention the âstudy sessionsâ too.â Â
You squeeze your thighs together at the mention of those hot, forbidden sessions where books were forgotten.Â
Your aunt saw Gojo before you didâat a opening house for the college. âStay away from a boy like that, dear,â she hissed to you. âUnderneath that dimpled smile and sweet talk, heâs the Devil.â You just waved off her lecture, figuring that it was just crazy talk.Â
But then word of your secret dates got back to her and while she didnât tell your parents, she forbade you from ever going around Gojo againâŠof course, you didnât listen. You just got smart. Hence the study sessions.Â
âSo howâs it feel beinâ back here after travelinâ the world on your tour?â you ask, curious.
Gojo pauses, thinking for a moment, and then exhales with happiness. "Like a breath of fresh air. I right outside our town now, so cominâ back home after jumpinâ from country to country is always a warm welcome.âÂ
You couldnât agree more and sip some beer to drink to it. âWhat about you? Whatâs it like beinâ back in a small town compared to the big city?âÂ
The look he gives you is too warm. Too happy. Like he really is joyed to see you. âWarm. And cozy,â you answer. âMy aunt swears that itâll be a good place to find a husband.â Whoops. Maybe you shouldnât have mixed your drinks after all.
Gojo gives you an incredulous look, scoffing with laughter. âSheâs lookinâ for a husband for you?â he chuckles and whistles, shaking his head. âGood luck with that, honey. I find that the fellas are alike all around.âÂ
âOh, so ya do now?â you scoff, cocking your head at him. âAnd howâs that? You an expert in men?â The booze has made you too mouthy. Too bold. But Gojo goes toe to toe with you and itâs undeniably hot. âI should be. You dated me, right? From my perspective, I did a pretty damn good job at it before ya left.âÂ
You feel a slight dip in your stomach at the mention of you leaving town, but you ignore it. âWatch it, cowboy. Iâll give ya props, but donât get too cocky.â The singer just smirks at you, giving you a look dripping with a molten hot promise that makes you feel hotter than the tequila. âHave you met me, darlinâ? Thatâs all I do.âÂ
Suddenly, your smile fades and you canât tell if youâre just playing anymore. This is quickly edging towards some dangerous territory. So what do you do? You run. Like always. Like you did before.Â
You get up and fix your dress as you head to the dance floor among Gojoâs crew, the warm lights washing over you. Gojo watches you, his eyes grazing your ass. You feel them and you hate that you like it. âWhere ya goinâ?â he wonders. You donât look back as you saunter to the floor, the guitars and drums calling your name. âI wanna dance!â you call over your shoulder. âYou gonna come along, cowboy?âÂ
You donât know why you ask. Youâre supposed to be trying to get away from him, not reel him in for more! But the beer and the tequila are talking for you, making you feel reckless and irresistible. With every electric strum of the guitar strings and beat of the drums in the country song blaring from the overhead speakers, your blood grows hot and you feel alive the more Gojo watches you.
You turn away from him as you begin to dance, swaying to the beat, your sundress swishing around your hips and thighs. The dance floor is packed, making the air feel sticky with sweat and alive with energy. You stand right in it, becoming lost in the tide. It feels good to dance alone but you know dancing with Gojo would feel even better, even if you donât want to admit it.
Then you feel a touch on your wrist and turn with a smile, only to see that itâs not Gojo but one of the bartender who is off duty. âYou need a partner, stranger?â he chuckles, giving you a sloppy grin that gives you the impression that he was sipping AND mixing on the job.
But before you can politely tell him no, your white-haired cowboy appears beside you, his sheer height making you feel protected enough. âNah, sheâs with me,â he says with a finality, but he wears s mile. âBetter luck next time, bro.âÂ
The bartender lifts his hands in defense and moves onto the next girl. You turn to Gojo with your arms crossed over your low cleavage. âYou speakinâ for me now?âÂ
The singer side-eyes the bartender, looking indifferent to his presence. âYou donât want that asshole. He was reekinâ of whiskey; woulda thrown up all over your pretty dress.âÂ
His blue eyes graze over your form in your sundress, making you feel naked. You hate that you relish it, shivering from his molten gaze, drunk off of the booze and you. Then he stretches his big hand out for you, a hopeful look in his eyes. âDance with me?â he offers.Â
You know you shouldnât, but temptation wins. You take his hand and let him pull you into him, just like you used to. As you place one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, he places his big hands on your waist just like used to. Instantly, flashes of those dance slow dancing with him in your dorms come flooding back, nostalgic and troubling.Â
You fit into him like a missing puzzle piece, feeling at home surrounded by everyone dancing in their boots thumping against the hardwood floor. Feeling like youâre the only two in the world. Your hand finds his dog tags, the metal cool against your fingertips, but you also feel his heartbeat thumping against them too. Thumping for you.Â
âI missed this, yâknow,â he whispers. âDancinâ like this. Kinda makes us feel like the only two people here.â You donât know why you look up. You shouldnât because all you see in those eyes is affection that he shouldnât have for you. âSatoru,â you murmur. âWe shouldnâtâŠâÂ
And then youâre kissing. You donât know who leans in first, but he doesnât matter: heâs kissing you and youâre kissing him, slow and steady. No rushing. No push and pull. Just a slow, lingering seduction that draws you in with every drag of his soft lips and coolness of his lip ring against yours. He tastes and feels just as he did before, but better.Â
You feel dizzy as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing lightly with yours where you taste his tongue ring. He never had one before and it arouses you. You find yourself pushing yourself into him, needing more, and he pushes right back, giving you a feel of the unmistakable outline of his thick, long câÂ
Bzzzzzz! You gasp, pulling away when you feel your phone buzzing in your bag against your leg. âS-Sorry,â you stammer. Gojo stares at you, lips flush from kissing and eyes hooded as you answer the call, clearing your throat. âHello?âÂ
âMommy!â Tara yells into the phone, so loud that you have to take your phone off of your ear. âI canât find Applejack!â You sigh, trying not to get mad at your daughter for interrupting a kiss that you shouldnât have had. âLook in your duffle bag, baby girl. I packed it with your My Little Pony PJs.âÂ
Painfully, you stand there with Gojo, afraid to look at him, as you hear Tara scuffling around on the phone for her plushie.Â
âFound it!â she squeals. âAuntieâs mad youâre not home yet.â You roll your eyes, not in the mood for your aunt to kill your buzz from miles away. âTell Auntie that Iâll be home tomorrow. Love you, lovebug.âÂ
âLove you more, Mommy! Buh bye!â Finally, the call ends and you breathe a sigh of relief. You turn to Gojo, still not looking at him. âThat was myâŠdaughter,â you sigh when you canât think of a good lie.Â
âYou got a kid?â he asks, sounding surprised and you feel your heart pummeling in your chest. âYou ainât tell me that.â Before you can stop yourself, you feel irrationally agitated and fumble with your bag, trying to shove your phone in it.
âI didnât know I had to,â you snap. "Weâre not together anymore, Satoru; itâs been five years since weâŠâ You pause, feeling tears well up as the guilt piles on, making you feel like a pile of donkey shit. âIâm sorry. I-I have to go.â But as you turn to leave, Gojo grabs your hand, stopping you. âWait, donât go,â he pleads. âIâm sorry, I justââÂ
âLet me go, Satoru,â you whimper as if youâre in pain. He releases you, looking positively wounded, like that night you told him you werenât going to Cali with him and broke his heart. You ignore it.Â
"Tell Utahime there was an emergency and I got an Uber.â Quickly, still fumbling with your bag, you storm off the dance floor and away from Gojo, struggling to hold back tears. âWait, Iâll get you a car! Y/N, hold up!âÂ
But youâre racing for the exit, trying to make it outside before the tears start coming. You manage to make it out of the bar in the sticky summer night, the night alive with activity. But you donât call an Uber. Instead, you go walking, needing to be away from everyone and everything for a while.Â
You decide to curve around behind the bar where there is nothing but dirt roads, grass, and fireflies. Nothing but you. However, you also somehow find yourself standing in front of Gojoâs tour bus parked smack-dab on the grass. You stare up at his beautiful face on the side of the bus; that white-toothed grin; those pretty eyes.Â
And then you begin to cry. You softly sob into your hands as fat, salty tears drip down your cheeks, ruining your mascara and shimmery eyeshadow that you spent an hour perfecting. You donât feel beautiful or sexy or desirable. You feel like dirt. Trash. Nothing but scum under your sandals.Â
Gone is the intoxicating feeling you initially felt from the alcohol. Now, you only feel tired and regretful. The memories hit you like a train: you, see twenty two-year old Gojoâs hopeful expression five years ago standing in your luxury dorm, his hands in yours after telling you about his record deal offer.
âYou can come with me, darlinâ!â he exclaimed. âWe can go to California together! And once I sign this contract for my deal, our relationship will onlyââÂ
âOur relationship?â you scoffed, snatching your hands from his. âSatoru, we donât have a relationship, remember? How do you expect me to tell my folks that Iâve been secretly datinâ you for months when Iâm supposed to be focusinâ on my studies?âÂ
Gojoâs smile faded, now looking utterly confused. âWeâd just tell âemâŠunless you donât want to.â His eyes grew steely and you didnât like it. âYou donât want âem to know about me,â he realized. âEven now.âÂ
âThey canât!â you snapped, frustration in your tone. âThey forbade me from datinâ in college, Satoru, and this town talks! Plus, I canât just up and leave my life here for a life in Cali. What if we broke up?âÂ
That hurt Gojo more than you realized; you could see it in those beautiful, blue eyes. But you ignored it, retreating emotionally, guarding your heart. âI just think we need to be realistic,â you mumbled, hugging yourself tight. âI just donât think this is gonna work for us anymore.âÂ
The look Gojo gave you made you feel like a murderer; like you stabbed him right in the chest. âYouâre breakinâ my heart, darlinâ,â he whispered, his voice clogged with emotion. You didnât say anything in fear of breaking down in tears. Instead, you stayed silent and watched him leave, taking all of your love for him with him.
âY/N!â You suddenly hear someone shout, ripping you out of your memory. You turn, finding Gojo standing there as if conjured by your thoughts. He strides up to you in his boots, looking concerned. âWhat are you doinâ? Come back inside.â
He goes to touch you, but you flinch away, waving him off. âNo!â you whimper. âPlease, Satoru, just leave me alone! You donât want this!âÂ
Gojo looks wounded, but doesnât push it. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, his pink lips a thin line. âYou dropped this inside.â He then produces you with a photo of you and Tara that escaped your phone wallet.
Quickly, you snatch it back and slide it back into your bag. The silence is thick and tense; youâd need a chainsaw to cut it. âSheâs beautiful,â Gojo softly says. âShe looks just like you. Prettiest thing in the world.âÂ
He gives you a small, almost sardonic smile that pains you to your core. âIâm sure she looks like her daddy too.â The words make your stomach pit and your blood run cold. When you look at him, his gaze is intense and knowing. Without a doubt, he knows your secret now. âShe mine?â he bluntly asks.Â
You donât answer, your heart pummeling so fast that youâre afraid youâll have a heart attack. Gojo grows irritated at your silence, his jaw tensing. âY/N, answer me.â Still, you canât, and turn to walk off, unable to tell him the truth out of your mouth.Â
But Gojo ainât having it this time. âNo,â he growls, grabbing your hand. âNo more fuckinâ runninâ from me. You did that before when you left me with a broken heart.â You try to wrench your hand out of his grip, pulling away from him. âStop it, Satoru!â you weakly protest. âI donât wanna talk about this!âÂ
Gojo releases you, but still gives you that sharp, hurt look. âSo you were just gonna come back here and not tell me about my own baby?â he scoffs.Â
You glare at him, furious with yourself more than him but still unable to swallow your pride. âHow do you even know sheâs yours? Plenty of guys have white hair and blue eyes, you dick!â Even when you think it, you know that itâs BS.Â
âHow old is she?â he growls. You harshly bite your lip, staring down at your painted toes. âFive,â you whisper.Â
âMmm-hmm,â he replies, crossing his beefy arms over his broad chest. âYou left five years ago, so unless you had someone else around that time, I know that little girl is mine. I ainât that dumb, darlinâ.âÂ
You turn away, unable to focus on anything but the internal battle inside of you. One side screams at you to tell the truth while the other insists that you keep your heart and Taraâs heart on lock. But as you stare into Gojoâs ocean-blue irises and see the pain in them, you canât help but feel guilt engulf you. âTell me,â he begs. âTell me the truth.âÂ
Finally, the tension breaks and you release. âYes, okay?!â you snap. âYes, sheâs yours! I ainât been with anyone else like that since you got me pregnant! Is that what you wanna hear?!âÂ
Gojo stands there for a moment. Silent. Taking it all in. Five years of never knowing. You never telling.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â he asks, looking oh-so sad. It breaks you. âI couldâve been there. I wouldâve been there.â He sounds so sure, like he wouldâve promised at twenty-two years old that he wouldâve been a daddy.Â
You scoff, rolling your wet eyes stained with running mascara. âOh, please, Satoru! You had a life that was just startinâ and I wasnât ready for it! You werenât ready for a kid, so I made the decision for youâŠor I wouldâve if I hadnât kept her.âÂ
Gojo blinks at you, confused but still tender. He knows youâre trying to tell him something. âYou confusinâ me, darlinâ. Iâm not good with cryptics.âÂ
You bite your lip, a lump in your throat and your body flush with humiliation. Why is this so damn hard? âI lied about goinâ to Masterâs school,â you admit, staring at your toes. âI went to get an abortion, but then I changed my mind and kept the baby.âÂ
Silence swells between you, thick as the hot Southern night and so intense that itâs unbearable. Youâre sure that Gojo will hate you even more now. âI know youâre mad about me, but I-I didnât think I was ready for a baby! I was so young a-andââÂ
âBaby, baby, slow down,â Gojo coos, taking your hands in his. This time, you donât pull away. âIâm not mad about the abortion. Hell, not even about California. Iâm upset that you left and didnât think to tell me what was goinâ on. Fuck the fameâI wanted you and I wanted our daughter too. Nothinâ was more important to me than you.âÂ
His eyes are firm and passion, softened by his love for you still blooming after five years. You stand there, melting from the soft, safe love that you still donât believe you deserve. âAnd there still ainât,â he confesses, impassioned. âYou were my first and only love. Nobody else came after you, but I was so convinced you had someone else in your life.âÂ
His words make you come apart and when he cups your wet cheek in his hand, you stop fighting. You stop running. You want to crash right into him and his love, and drown in it. âNo one,â you softly confess. âItâs always been you too, Toru. Itâs only Tara and me.âÂ
A hopeful smile stretches onto his dimpled cheeks. âSo does that mean I've still got a chance with you? We can still try again?â His thumb runs over your bottom lip, making your arousal peak. âSatoru,â you whisper. âWe shouldnâtââÂ
âWe can,â he murmurs, pulling you close against him. âStop fightinâ this, darlinâ. Itâs just me.â Yes, just him. Just your love. The one youâve been thinking of for years now.Â
And so you let his lips descend upon yours again, kissing you deeply and passionately. You drink in his cologne and how his chest feels against your fingers as you lock lips, softly moaning into each otherâs mouths.
Gojo used to be a good kisser back in college, but now? Heâs had practice and you can tell from the way he falls into rhythm with you, swooping your tongue up in a private dance that makes your panties wet.Â
He presses himself against you, making you feel his hard bulge pressing against his jeans. He stutters out a groan as you grind down into him as his big hands slide under your sundress, possessively grabbing your ass. You whimper, hot sparks of pleasure swirling inside of you.Â
âI missed you,â he moans against your lips. âMissed ya so goddamn much.â You feel his tongue, hot and pierced, slither down your neck to your breasts where his hands trail to grip and grope, massaging them through your thin sundress. âM-Missed you too!â you stammer. âGod, Satoru, donât tease!âÂ
The country star smirks at you, the act so familiar and oh-so sexy. âItâs been a while for ya, huh?â he teases. âDonât you worry, darlinâ; this cowboy can help with that. Just tell me ya want it.âÂ
You stare into his eyes, no longer afraid. No longer running. You need this. âI want it,â you mew, your legs turning to jelly the more you stand here with him. âTaste me, Satoru.â
Your ex is happy to oblige. He guides you over to the back of the tour bus, out of sight of the bar, the road, and other buildings, giving you some privacy. Gojo pins you against the tour bus and gives you a hot, sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. âYouâre so perfect. How I missed this bodyâŠâÂ
His hands glide over your soft skin, his touch leaving trails of fire, as he playfully nibbles on your bottom lip. âThese lipsâŠâ He pulls the lush lip before popping it back into place, grinning when you whimper.Â
âThese titsâŠâ He peppers your tits in wet kisses, pulling down your spaghetti straps for better access but not taking them out to toy with your nipples. Not yet. He teases you, making you gush into your panties as he kneels down before you, his expression hungered. He trails your sundress up to reveal your soft inner thighs, slightly sticking together from the heat, and your panties. âThat pretty fuckinâ pussy,â he growls. âLook how wet you are for me, baby, shit!âÂ
He can see it from the frontâthat wet spot growing in the pink lace fabric. He takes two fingers and glides them along your slit, making you gasp, before sticking them in his mouth to suck off your taste.Â
You flush, biting your lip. âItâs been awhile.â Gojo raises a brow at your confession, hope twinkling in those ocean blues. âYou ainât been with anyone else?âÂ
Youâre inclined to tell him what he wants to hear when he begins rubbing your clit with his thumb through your panties, sparks of pleasure shooting through you. âItâs been a slow summer,â you softly exhale.Â
And it hasâyou havenât had a man knock the cobwebs off your pussy all summer long because you had no interest in it. But now, all you can think about is Gojo knocking your screws loose and fucking your brains out to make up time.Â
âDonât worry, darlinâ; no other man will compare once Iâm done with you. Just keep it downâŠif ya can.â He gives you a smirk before he pulls your panties aside, exposing your glistening, puffy pussy lips to him and the summer air.Â
You grit your teeth at him and his arrogance even as it turns you on. âYou cocky littleâoh, fuck!â You have to cover your mouth when Gojo finally gets his mouth on you, hot, wet, and juicy. He is perfectâjust as he used to be, but better.
He is more precise and skillful yet still has that sloppy eagerness that makes your pussy wet with his spit because he keeps coating your slit in it, allowing for his tongue to slide between your swollen lips. He moans at your taste as if he canât get enough of your honey.
Each moan sends vibrations throughout your cunt, making you shudder and quake against his mouth. You canât help but whine and whimper over the magical feelings your country star ex and baby daddy gives you.Â
His blue eyes lock with yours as he hooks your thigh over his shoulder, pulling his plush, pink lips away to speak to you. âTouch me, mama. Put those pretty hands on me.â You begin to caress his white locks of hair as he continues to lap at your pussy before hooking his tongue inside of you.Â
Your eyes widen at the feeling, your mouth falling agape as a loud moan escapes you. âOh, my God,â you gasp. âT-Toru, fuck! Right there!âÂ
Gojo smirks against your clit, nuzzling it with his nose. âRight here?â he teasingly asks. He does the same move again, the coolness of his tongue piercing melting against your molten pussy as you grind yourself into him. âThatâs real good, mama. You sound so fuckinâ good fâme.âÂ
Zzzzzip. You suddenly hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans with one hand, but you have no chance to look down because youâre too busy squeezing your eyes shut from the sheer, intense pleasure the country heartthrob is giving you.Â
Finally, Gojo pulls away to breathe, his lips glistening in your taste and eyes lust-blown for you. âTurn around. I wanna eat this pussy from the back.â The order coming from his silky voice makes you shudder in arousal.Â
Quickly, you turn around and brace your hands against the tour bus, sticking your ass out for him. Gojo groans at the sight, hypnotized as he hikes your dress up to reveal your full, plump ass in your lace panties.Â
SMACK!Â
âOh!â you gasp, taken aback by the sudden, pleasurable sting of his hand against your ass. Gojo chuckles, laying a kiss on your asscheek. âSorry, mama, but you bought that on yourself. Guess our baby filled you out.âÂ
His hands glide down your full hips and over your tummy, softer and fluffier from the baby. You bite your lip, suddenly self conscious. âI-Itâs somethinâ Iâve been workinâ on.â Pilates, cardio, dieting, you name it. Though youâve lost weight since having your daughter, you still have the curves that being a mommy has awarded you.Â
Gojo shows you how awarded he feels by gripping your ass lovingly and kissing it, making you hum in pleasure at the wet trail of kisses. âDonât. Youâre so fuckinâ hot like this. All these hips and that assâŠâ He hits your ass again, the sharp smack making your pussy throb.Â
He then stands up and you hear a soft smack-smack-smack of something hard and hot against your pussy, teasing your clit. âFeel that, baby?â he silkily asks. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to push back into him and sink back onto his cock. âUh-huh.âÂ
Gojo hums in pleasure, running the bulbous head of his dick against your swollen, wet lips where you feel something else. Something cold. A dick piercing. âI would do this for no one but you. You know that, right? Only you can make me this hard.âÂ
Finally, he kneels behind you and proceeds to eat your pussy off the bone, his tongue slipping, sliding, and swirling around your dripping hole. You have to clap a hand over your mouth to avoid screaming in pleasure and alerting people.Â
He just so perfect. He turns you into an eager, needy slut, freeing her from the prison sheâs been in for so long. âOh, f-fuck, Toru, yes! More! I-I need more!â
Gojo smirks into your pussy, using his index finger to rub your clit in semi-circles. âSo you want me to make ya cum your pretty brains out?â You nod, looking back at him behind you. His eyes glitter with mirth, his smirk molten lust. âI can do that. Make up for lost time.âÂ
And then there is no more talking from you as he hooks his pierced tongue up to caress your G-spot as he rubs your clit, the lewd, sloshing sounds of his tongue flicking in your soaked pussy drifting through the summer air. âShit!â you moan. âFaster! Please, Toru!âÂ
You begin to ride his face, pushing your ass into his face as you begin to rock back on your heels, needing to cum. Desperate to cream all over his tongue. Finally, you feel that tug in your core and you reach back to grip his hair, much to his enjoyment. âFuck, Iâm gonâ cum, Daddy!â you moan.Â
âUh-huh!â Gojo moans into your pussy, repeating it like itâs a mantra as his tongue flicks get faster. His finger rubs a little harder, just enough for you to feel that pressure. And in one split second, like a string growing thin and bursting, you release.Â
âOh, shit, Toru, yes!â you gasp as you cream all over his tongue. You muffle your loud, pornographic moans and whines with your hand as you cum hard and intense, your head growing foggy from the euphoric feeling.Â
Gojo greedily slurps every drip of your cum up, groaning at the taste. Like itâs the best thing in the world. After your moans turn into cute little whimpers and sobs, Gojo pulls away and stands, that big thang swinging between his thighs like a pendulum.Â
You turn to him, giving him a goofy smile that can only happen after a good orgasm. âThank you,â you sigh. You wrap your arms around him, kissing yourself off of his lips. âDonât mention it, mama. Itâs always been a pleasure.âÂ
His cock throbs between you, agreeing with that statement. You stare at it hungrily, needing it in your mouth. âNow itâs your turn~âÂ
But before you can kneel, he stops you, kissing your knuckles with a searing promise in his eyes that makes you melt. âNot out here, you little minx. Iâm freaky but Iâm also possessive. Letâs getcha inside so we can really make up for lost time, huh?âÂ
You giggle as he suddenly scoops you up off of your feet and carries you into his tour bus, locking it with a simple click of a button, before carrying you to the back of the bus to a comfy black couch to continue your âactivityâ.Â
Minutes later, Gojo is buck ass naked and youâre on your knees titty fucking him, the soft, beautiful tig olâ bitties slick with coconut oil. His big, thick dick pierced at the tip glistens between your tits, standing up at attention. "You are no oneâs gonna find us?â you pant, looking at the bus doors.Â
Gojo cups your chin and forces to look at him. All of him, right down to his washboard abs and V-line. âPositive. I locked the door. Now hush and keep rubbinâ that oil on you.â He reaches over for the little bottle and pours more onto your tits, making them slick and slippery. âYouâre such a perv, Satoru,â you tsk, but you love it.Â
You proceed to jack him off with those luscious breasts that seem to hypnotize Gojo, his lust-blown eyes flicking between his cock disappearing between them and your pretty face. âItâs good, Daddy?â you coo.Â
You can tell from his handsome face screwing in pleasure, his muscles tense from the sensations. Your country star tilts his head back against the cushions, throat exposed and mouth open as he moans and pants for you. âOh, my fuckinâ God, yes!â Gojo groans. âLook so good between âem. I belong there.âÂ
You canât agree more watching his cock strain between your breasts, pulsating and throbbing against the soft globes slick with oil. âYes,â you moan. âIâm all yours, Daddy. Go on, fuck them titties for me.âÂ
He does so, lifting his hips and letting out straight pornographic moans as he fucks your titties, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. âFuck,â he groans, his blue eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. Heâs never looked hotter and youâve never been wetter.
Finally fed up, he pauses, staring dead at your mouth. âPut your mouth âround me,â he growls. âLemme see them lips stretch.â You give him a lewd smile before wrapping your lips around his cock, tasting the coconut oil dripping off of his thick shaft.Â
He moans loudly and sluttily at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth entwining him, sucking him off. âOh, God, yes,â he groans, his eyes fluttering closed. You pump your head up and down, pushing him in and out of your throat, hollowing your cheeks for more suction. How you missed this! Especially how he sounds: so needy and desperate for you.Â
Gojo laces his piano long fingers in your hair, gripping the locks as he guides your head down. âFuck yes, ah!â he gasps. âDeeper, mama. Take me deepâŠyeah, just like that!â His moans become louder, not caring about anyone hearing, as your throat gags and flexes around him.Â
Heâs still so fucking big after all this time! You struggle to take him at first, but quickly, your throat adjusts and opens for him, allowing him deeeeep down the tight, wet tunnel. Gojoâs toes curl and his abs tense as you work his cock with your luscious, heavenly mouth, your spit dripping down his balls to stain the couch.Â
Finally, you pull away and smile at him, pressing his wet cock to your cheek slightly streaked in mascara. âWanna give me a nice souvenir?â you joke. The country star smirks, eyes glittering with lust. âSure, but not in your throat. I wanna be inside you.âÂ
A delicious shiver runs through your body at the thought of this sexy ass man fucking you deep and cumming inside of you, fulfilling something inside of you that you thought was going to be long empty forever. You nod, smiling as you giddily bite your lip in anticipation for what is to happen.Â
Gojo opens his arms for you, making your heart flip. âCâmere,â he coos. You crawl to him and he has you sit in his lap, his cock grinding against your asscheeks and slit, making you moan as his dick grows sticky and wet from you dripping onto it. Staring down into those blues, you see nothing but a growing heat just for you. âRide me. I know you need this too.âÂ
Oh, like he wouldnât believe. Your pussy has a damn heartbeat of its own with how aroused you are. You ache for him.Â
So you canât resist bracing yourself on his chest and raising yourself up to slide down his achingly hard, delicious dick. He securely holds your curvy hips, eyes flicking from your tits to your face like he doesnât know what to stare at more. âReady, mama?â he asks. âCome down when youâreââÂ
Before he can even finish, youâre sliding down that soaked pussy down onto his cockpit taking just the tip first. As soon as you do, you both share a gasp and your eyes widen like you just took a shot of the purest drug in your system. âShit!â you both moan in unison.Â
Gojo continues to hold you tight as you adjust and then surely begin to alternate between rocking your hips and slowly bouncing on his dick. Your moans are soft and slutty, just as his are. He watches you through slits of his eyes, teeth clenched and face flushed. âJust as Iâah, fuck, babyâthought. You still fit me like a fuckinâ glove.âÂ
As if in agreement, your pussy squeezes tight around him, happy with the praise. Your country singer lets out a groan fit for a porno and leans his head back against the cushion, mouth agape and eyes rolling back.
That sexy look on his face makes you bounce a bit faster, taking him deeper. Moans, gasps, and whines escape you, filling the tour bus along with the sound of your curvy ass smacking against his thighs. âO-Oh! Oh, fuck! God, Toru, youâre so fuckinâ big!âÂ
Gojo grins at this, training those eyes on you. âJust like old times, right, darlinâ?â he softly chuckles, gripping you so possessively that youâre sure heâll tattoo those fingerprints into your flesh.Â
You shake your head, still gripping those pecs as you bounce up and down, making your full titties bounce with you. âNo. Better. You fill me up so much.â And he doesâyou feel so full and stretched, every inch of him making you whimper and your pussy spasm. Gojoâs eyes grow darker and he begins to fuck you from the bottom, slowly. âKeep bouncinâ on me. Take what you need.âÂ
You do just that, fully hopping on that dick, making your titties bounce more freely and your ass recoil against his thighs. He lets you use him, his moans growing louder and sluttier, his voice mixing with yours to bounce off of the tour bus walls. âThatâs it, darlinâ! Ride me! Fuck, I love your fuckinâ pussy!âÂ
He starts to fuck you from the bottom again, this time much faster and rougher. He jackhammers his hips up into you, going so fast and gripping your ass so hard that you see stars as you bounce like a bunny on his dick.
âI-I love you, Toru!â you gasp. The words explode out of you like fireworks, unable to be contained or kept hidden the more you ride his fat cock.
As soon as they are out, you can't take them backâboth of you know that. Gojo stares at you, shocked, his blue eyes wide. Then he splits into a big, white-toothed grin that makes butterflies swarm in your tummy. âYa do?â he asks.Â
You nod, unable to take it backâŠbut you donât want to. You want him to know that you love him and you always have. This is not just some hot fucking; this is making love too. At least to you, it is. âYes. I never stopped. Iâm so sorry that Iâoh!âÂ
You canât finish the rest of your heartfelt apology because Gojo is suddenly picking you up with ease, causing you to lace your limbs around him. You squeal when he scoops you up and carries you to the far back of his tour bus where his bed is and tosses you down onto it. No tour needed right now.Â
He then proceeds to put you in mating press, putting his full body weight on you as he dangles your ankles from his broad shoulders and keeps your arms locked around his neck. âYou mustâve said that just to get put into this fuckinâ bed,â he grunts, a feral look in his eye. âYouâre fuckinâ with my head, darlinâ. Drive me crazy!âÂ
He then proceeds to fuck you dumb in mating press, drilling his dick into your satiny, puffy pussy over and over again, fucking you to tears. The sounds that escape your lips are downright slutty and lewd, but you can't help it! His dick is just too good! âOh, shit, shit, shit!â you babble. âGod, Daddy, yes! Fuck me! Fuck me just like that!âÂ
He is so deep, filling the deepest part of you, his abs rubbing against your clit, sending parks of pleasure through your toes up to your head. His pretty face hands above you, a sight to behold. âSay you love me again. Say you want me.â His tone is laced with desperation, his cock pulsating inside of you.Â
With a whimper, you reach up to cup his face, shivering when he leans into your touch. âI love you. I want you so bad, Toru! Need you with me and our daughter!â He smiles and kisses your palm, nuzzling his cheek into your fingertips. âI love you too, darlinâ. I never ever stopped. Every fuckinâ love song I make is about you.âÂ
Your heart swells at his words as your pussy pulsates and throbs around his dick, oozing and gushing down your asscrack to stain his balls and bedspread.
But he doesn't care. He keeps fucking and fucking, pounding your cunt into the bed like itâs his job. And with the way he stares into your eyes, fucking the deepest parts of your soul, you can tell he means every word he utters to you through stuttering moans.Â
âIâm gonna go wherever you go. You stay here, Iâll get you a farm. You go to the city, Iâll get us a fuckinâ penthouse. I donât give a fuck if your folks are rich; I take care of mine.â He locks a hand around your throat and squeezes, just the way he used to, and you feel itâthat tug on your core.Â
âToru,â you whine. âIâm gonna cum again!â With every thrust that knocks you up the bed, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your end. Gojo whimpers as you squeeze him, his thrusts becoming sloppier the wetter you get around him. âM-Me too, mama. I wanna give you this load so bad!âÂ
Yes. You want that more than anything. And it isnât just the sex talking. âDo it! Gimme another kid, Daddy! Make me a mama again!â A switch flips in Gojo and he grins his hips faster, harder, pistoning into you with the fury of a thousand horny fires. âSo my baby wants to be bred? You want your country star to fill ya up with his babies?âÂ
You nearly sob over how good he feels, gripping his muscular forearms for dear life as your orgasm grows near. âYes, yes, yes! Cum in me, Daddy! Please get me pregnant!â With every slam of his hips against yours, going plap-pla-plap as he pounds himself into you, you know that youâre sure to get bred with another baby.Â
Another baby belonging to your love. âGet pregnant fâme, baby,â he gasps. âCâmon, cum with me! Give it all toâŠoh, fuck!â He leans down to swallow your moans as you both get closer, sloppily kissing and sharing your pants as you both come crashing down. With a groan, Gojo empties himself inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum.Â
You feel it pouring out of you, shooting into you, hot, creamy, and sticky. It makes you gush and you cum all over his cock with a sob-like moan, pleasure crackling in your veins like firecrackers. His spunk fills a void in you that has long since been vacant and you smile, feeling an execrating amount of joy and euphoria that takes you higher than a drug ever can.Â
You hold him tight as you cum, arching your back so far off the bed that youâre afraid it will break, still sloppily swirling your tongue with his. It is all so perfect. Heaven on earth. But after a few minutes of Gojo slowly fucking his cum up into you, he grows tired and sighs, pulling away from you. He whistles, staring down at you with a satisfied smirk. "You worked me out, baby girl,â he chuckles.Â
And vice versa. You feel achy and winded already yet totally and supremely satisfiedâŠand sticky. You can feel his cum dripping out of your pussy, soaking your puffy lips and inner thighs, slipping down to your ass crack. Gojo softly laughs, leaning down to give your slit a long lick to slurp up his cum, making you moan. âDamn, I made a real mess. Stay there.âÂ
You giggle as you stay laid out on your back, legs to the ceiling, cum dripping out of your pussy. Gojo shortly returns with a towel soaked in warm water and lavender-scented soap. He gently cleans you up and you hum in relaxation at the sensations.âThank you. For the towel and the load too.âÂ
Gojo clicks his tongue at you, playfully smacking your ass with the towel. âSilly girl. No need to thank me. Iâve been dreaminâ of doinâ that for years now.â He presses a soft kiss to your tummy, making you flush. To think he has been dreaming of making love to you again makes your pussy throb again.Â
But before you can go round two, you need to rest. After Gojo gets you a cool water bottle from the mini fridge, he snuggles with you under the covers. His big body fits so nicely with yoursâŠalmost like you were made for each other. Your fingers glide along his abs, pecs, and beefy arms while he traces shapes over your curves, his big feet playing footsie with yours.Â
In the comfortable silence, something snags you and you can't help but ask him, âDid ya mean whatcha said? About livinâ with me and Tara?â Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation his response. Youâre afraid that it was just sex talk.Â
But to your relief and joy, it wasnât. ââCourse I did,â Gojo replies, kissing your cheek. âSure, Iâd have to work my way up to buildinâ trust with Tara, but yâall are my world. Nothinâ else matters if I donât got my two girls in my life.âÂ
You split into a grin and turn around to face him, holding his face in your hands. âIâm gonna make ya so happy,â he whispers. âI promise. Your aunt is gonna be so glad you chose me, baby, I swear to yââÂ
You donât give him a chance to finish before youâre kissing him, pouring every ounce of happiness and love you have into him. But before the kiss can move onto something else, you hear your phone ringing. âDamn,â Gojo groans, pouting, but he picks your bag up from the couch and hands it to you.Â
You dig into your phone, checking the caller ID. âItâs Utahime,â you announce. You answer, preparing to explain yourself to your anxiety-induced friend. âHey, girl, Iâm not dead. Iâm so sorry that IââÂ
âFuck, Shoko!â she moans. âOh, thatâs so good!â You hear a feminine giggle in the background and a soft popping sound like someone tearing their lips away from a very soaked pussy.
âYeah? You want it faster?â Shoko teases. Then Utahime is moaning her head off, so loud that Gojo can hear it too. At least youâre both getting what you want tonight.Â
You both give each other a knowing look as you slowly hand up the call, struggling to not laugh. âMustâve been a butt dial.â But when Gojo erupts into a fit of laughter, you join in, giggling hysterically. âSheâs fuckinâ my bassist? Iâm NEVER lettinâ her live this down!â he cackles, holding his stomach.Â
After recovering from your laughing fit, Gojo suddenly reaches back behind him and retrieves a guitar. You giggle, figuring that, of course, as a country singer, heâd have a guitar ready on hand. âSpeakinâ of guitars, let me give ya sneak peek of my new stuff.â He gives you an irresistible smile and a wink as he sits up cross-legged, still naked with the guitar in between his legs.Â
You giddily grin at him, propping a hand up to hold your chin as you stare up at him from your side. âYouâre gonna serenade me?â you tease, but youâre blushing all over at the idea of such a hot singer wanted by all serenading only you.Â
He nods, playing a few strings with his guitar pick, steady and skillful. âHell yeah; Iâll do this forever if you want me to.â You feel a delighted shiver run through you at that, figuring that tonight canât get any better for you. âSend a lilâ video to Tara. She needs to know that her papa can sing.âÂ
You giggle and reach for your phone before Gojo begins to play, the sound of his silky voice combined with the sweet strumming of his guitar filling the tour bus. And just like that, you are proven wrong: tonight can get better for you. Sometimes, all it takes is a serenade.Â
between a smug academic rival, a masked hero you cannot stop thinking about, and a symbiote threat getting closer by the day, your life is quickly becoming unmanageable. gojo satoru keeps ruining your peace, spiderman keeps stealing your heart, and neither of them seems willing to tell you the truth. as secrets pile up and the city tips further into danger, you begin to realise the person breaking your heart and the one trying to save it may not be two different people at all.
pairing: nerd!jo + spiderman!jo x reader
content: mdni, fluff + crack + angst + smut, academic rivals to lovers (a bit), college slop + coffee slop, a little miscommunication, secret identity reveal, friends with benefits kind of, satoru and reader are bad at feelings, satoru makes bad choices, foot job, p in v, cunnilingus, angst (?) with a happy ending !!, some action scenes 55k+
note: the old title was âthe end of the worldâ or smth so take a shot everytime the world ending is mentioned in the fic! thank you for reading and iâll see you at the end for more yap :3
Some people say the world ended December 12th, 2012 and that weâre all living in purgatory. The dead internet theory, Trisha Payta giving birth every time a significant member of society dies, that triangle in the middle of fuckass nowhere, there are pointers that this canât be the reality we live in.
Not that you care because for all you know, the world ended for you on March 15th at 10:12am when you first met Gojo Satoru.
It was impossible to not know him beforehand, not when heâs friends with your friends. And that distinction matters, their friend rather than your friend because you donât associate with him, not willingly. In fact, you would have been beyond overjoyed if he remained that unnamed face sitting back row of your neuropharmacology tutorial class, and not the persistent nuisance that heâs grown to be.
Because ever since the world has ended and youâve matched the elusive name to face, Gojo has managed to worm his way into your life. Heâs there, slinging his arm over Shokoâs shoulder as if you both arenât glaring into the side of his head for it, dragging his friend Geto over too, the long haired boy at least having the decency to smile apologetically though not enough decency to leave.
Shoko never tells him off, which you originally assumed was her one and only tragic personality flaw until you eventually learned theyâd been childhood best friends for almost twenty years. After that, it became easier to file her reactions away as a chronic, lifelong exasperation, the kind that slowly builds over decades until the only move left is to sigh and let the idiot sit down.
But did that idiot have to be Gojo?Â
Ever since he entered your orbit that horrible day in March, you canât seem to ignore his existence. You see those irritating thick-framed glasses around every corner on campus, his messy white hair sometimes tucked beneath the hood of his university jumper sometimes not, but always ruffled like he has just rolled out of bed. His laugh follows you around, a persistent soundtrack bleeding into every conversation you try to have with your actual friends. Heâs always there, hands in pockets, bulky backpack slung over both shoulders, slippers padding lazily against the pavement like heâs just walked straight out of his apartment and into your line of sight.
âRelax.â Shoko tells you one afternoon as you aggressively wiped down a table, the cafe quieter now the day was slipping into that evening quiet. âYou wonât have to see him ever again now that the semester is over. You can unclench.â
Her advice only makes you snort, giving the table one last swipe before straightening to look at her busied behind the counter. âNot true if you donât stop inviting him to everything. What made you even think of bringing him with us to the club last Friday?â
Your best friend opens her mouth as if to defend him and that alone is enough for you to gag.
âShoko, he showed up in a dress shirt. And a messenger bag. To the fucking club!â
âNot too much on him, he was coming straight from night classes.â
Like that helps his case. Like being top of the cohort, effortlessly breezing through the same exams that require endless all-nighters from you, isnât enough to satiate his greedy appetite. Like the universe hasnât already gift-wrapped him with endless talent, now he has to go above and beyond and take night classes too.
âYeah, well. You need to separate your personal life from your work life. Work-life balance.â
âI donât see how that makes sense,â Shoko retorts drily, speaking more to the sink than you as she washes up the last of the cups. âClubbing and Gojo are both my personal life. If anything, youâre the one bringing him into our work life right now.â
âYouâre the one that said being his friend is a full-time job.â
She sighs. âMinimal wage, too.â
You weave through the tables and duck behind the counter, tossing the rag into a discarded pile for the night staff to deal with, and squeeze Shokoâs shoulders as you pass behind her in the cramped space.
âHey,â you start, voice sweet. âLetâs cut him off.â
She shoves you off good-mannerly, pushing you again in the direction of the apron rack to help you with the knot. âCut him some slack, wonât you? Or donât. Just forget about him. Like I said, now that the semester is over, you wonât have any reason to see him ever again.â
âThatâs honestly up to you. Sure, I wonât see him in classes anymore but are you going to spontaneously invite him to lunch again? Heâs not coming to our Saturday cheese tasting plans, is he? What about that aquarium we wanted to check out?â
Her hands pause before she loosens the knot and turns so you can untie her apron in return. âIâll tell him no to both.â
âOh, so he asked?â
âYou have no idea.â As if sensing the rant already bubbling up your throat, Shoko quickly hands you your phone from under the counter. âBy the way, your phoneâs been buzzing the entire shift. Youâre not still talking to that guy, are you?â
You take it, dragging the screen down to scroll through missed notifications. âWho?â
âThe double texter.â
Thereâs the typical ones youâd expect, some Outlook emails about irrelevant study tips, some random Twitter notifications from the many inactive accounts youâve abandoned but never bothered logging out of, and miscellaneous app alerts you swipe away without reading. Buried beneath them though, is the familiar little red icon from that forum app you absolutely should have deleted months ago, a fresh reply sitting under the thread thatâs been irritating you all week.
Your mouth tightens and you swipe it away before you can be sucked away into the ragebait.
âY/N?â
âHm?â You look up, realising Shoko is still waiting for a response. âOh, no. This is⊠a guy from Hinge.â
The hesitation isnât lost on her but she gives you grace and doesnât press for the truth. âRight. Just be careful, alright? I donât know what is going on in this city anymore but thereâs been way too many incidents on the news about people going missing. You know itâs bad when all the news channels are all suddenly interviewing men in tight spandex suits.â
You snort, tucking your phone away to finish clocking out of your shift. ââMenâ like thereâs multiple. You mean that one spider guy, right? His superhero name is uncreative as hell.â
âHe shoots webs from his wrists and climbs walls, what else would he call himself?â
âAnything but the first thing a five year old could come up with. Thatâs like pointing to a man who can fly and calling him Flying Man.â
Shoko locks the cafe doors behind, the metal click satisfying after a long shift. She gives the handle two firm tugs just to be sure because the city is a mess apparently, then steps back so she can flip the sign to CLOSED, the glass catching a smear of gold from the streetlights outside.
âSuperhero names are hardly creative these days.â
âWeâre losing the ancient texts.â
By now, evening has settled in properly, the campus washed in that dusky blue-orange light that makes everything look prettier than it is. You stop to take a few photos of the sunset, then slip your phone away and breathe in the cool breeze as Shoko falls into step beside you, the two of you cutting across campus out toward the busier street.
âWhat ancient texts? Thereâs literally someone called Superman because heâs super.â
You roll your eyes. âThat is so not helping your case.â
âIt is helping my case because it proves people like straightforward names. Also, it helps with making merch.â
âHow can you be so confident and be so wrong?â
Shoko bumps your shoulder lightly as you walk, enough to make you sway half a step before you right yourself and return the gesture.
Cars hiss past at the intersection ahead, headlights briefly washing over the footpath. Somewhere behind you, someone shouts a name across the road and is followed by a burst of noisy laughter. Thereâs a kind of peace at this twilight, a sense of calm that feels despairing.
âAre you sure you donât want a lift?â Shoko asks as you both slow to a step, effectively dragging you out of a potential spiral. âI canât imagine the bus being your favourite form of transport.â
You blink at her before shaking your head, reorganising your thoughts. âItâs fine. Besides, I know you have that thing with Utahime later.â
âItâs not a thing. Weâre just going to a jazz bar.â
âSure, okay. But just the two of you.â
âWe did invite you,â Shoko reminds you with an unimpressed look. âYouâre the one that declined.â
âI wasnât going to third wheel again.â
âUtahime would kill you for saying that.â
âIâd be more worried that sheâd kill herself if she found out youâre not labelling it as a date.â
Shoko kicks a loose rock on the pavement, avoiding your eyes. âThatâs because itâs not a date. Itâs a jazz bar outing.â
âJazz is like, inherently romantic. Havenât you heard âCareless Whispersâ?â
âThatâs the dumbest thing youâve said all day. âCareless Whispersâ is about a man cheating,â
âWait, are you serious?â You shake your head to dispel the song from playing in your mind, reining in the conversation before she can successfully deflect. âAnd I doubt thatâs the dumbest thing Iâve said all day. I think Iâve had some better bangers.â
âTrue, the dumbest thing that left your mouth was probably Gojo. You know, for someone who claims to hate him, you sure do talk about Gojo a lot. Donât groan at me, Iâm just saying.â
âIâm complaining about him. That has to be different.â
Shoko tilts her head, studying you up and down as she considers your words. She ends her evaluation with a hum. âI donât know, people usually donât spend that much time thinking about someone they actually donât care about.â
The implications are so frankly absurd the only thing you can do is wish her well. âIâm going to kill you.â
She raises her hands in surrender, already backing away in the direction of the parking lot.âAnyway! Thereâs no reason to complain about him anymore. Live a little!â
âPlease,â you scoff. âLike Iâd ever willingly think about Gojo ever again. You donât need to tell me that.â
She laughs softly, catching the words just before they disappear with the wind. You watch her back for a few seconds longer before blinking out of your thoughts. For some reason, the sound follows you all the way to the bus stop.
Realistically, Shokoâs words have some truth to them. It is rather easy to forget all about Gojo and his crimes against humanity (you) when you donât see him over the two-week break. Instead, you go to concerts with Utahime, visit art museums with Nanami and gossip and giggle over brunch with Shoko.
There's a peaceful monotony as days blend into each other, until one morning when your alarm rings at an hour once familiar to you and you get up to start another semester.
Checking your timetable one more time, you sigh at your misfortune. It was inevitable that your courses wouldnât always align with the rest of your friends. In fact, it was a miracle that you even had classes with Shoko last semester considering she wasnât even doing the same degree. You shouldnât be too disappointed after all, when you posted a story asking if anyone else was taking this course, a few people you vaguely recognised had swiped up. They're mostly acquaintances, people youâve met once from parties and events, but itâs miles better than being alone.
You double-check the lecture hall number one last time outside the building, hoping the extra second will magically give you the cure to the brewing headache at your temples, before you finally push open the door.
The buzz of conversation hits you immediately. Rows of students fill the lecture hall, voices overlapping as people reunite after the break, bags dropping onto chairs and laptops snapping open performatively. A few heads turn when you walk in, not unusual unfortunately, but you pretend not to notice, adjusting the strap of your tote as you scan the room.
You spot some familiar faces sitting toward the back, relief loosening the tight knot in your chest as you begin to climb the steps.
The smile on your face drops the moment your eyes driftâthose traitorous thingsâto the front row.
Gojo slouches in his seat, the tiny fold-out table already pulled out in front of him, bag resting on top. Heâs the only one sitting front row and centre, and considering how immersed he is with his phone, you doubt he has any plans to share the space with anyone else. He causally lifts his glasses with his finger in a way you thought perfectly suits his pretentious personality.
His hood is thrown over his head, feet stretching out in front of him. One of his hoodie strings is kept between his lips as he absentmindedly chews at it, so relaxed, so casual, so oblivious to the world ending around you.
You freeze.
Someone tries to enter the hall and almost bumps into you, and itâs this near collision that finally jolts you into motion. Your instincts kick in and you hastily duck your head, climbing up the stairs where your friends are waiting.
Nobara waves you closer, tucking her feet closer to her chest to let you into the row. âHey, Y/N! It's been a while.â
âHey,â you say, hoping it comes off casual and not dripped in fear. âYeah, I didnât think you were doing this course too. What a coincidence. Hey, can you give me a second?"
When you sink into your chair, you whip out your phone and frantically type away.
you: no fucking way
im going to kill myself
shoko: ik u have some crazy attachment issues but uâll get over it i promise
utahime: aww i think its cute u miss us so much if not a little pathetic
you: i dont give a gaf about that anymore
u wouldnt believe who else is taking this course
shoko: weâre not the fucking akinator guy y/n
utahime: i could be if u gave me more hints
guy or girl?
are they a youtuber?
you: itâs gojo
utahime: wtf spoilers??
wait gojo oh my god LMAOO
shoko: oh ure definitely gonna tweak
Your eyes only tear away from Gojo when the lecturer enters the room and when the door closes behind him, you feel the sudden, irrational urge to bolt for the exit. Because was it just your imagination or was there a sense of finality to that door slam? Gojo was meant to be a nightmare for one semester, a pain in the ass for one chapter of your life and yet here he is, the back of his head just as infuriating as the front.
âWelcome to neuropharmacology3211.â When the lecturer begins the lesson, you watch as Gojo barely sits up to listen. âIâll pass along the attendance sheet now. Just for everyoneâs sanity I need to let you know that these lectures arenât compulsory, however we do encourage you to attend.â
You panic. An attendance sheet. With your name on it. For all to see.
You watch in despair as it begins its slow journey across your side of the lecture hall. Mournfully, you tick off your name with Nobaraâs pen and pass the paper along, trying not to imagine the inevitable moment it reaches the front row.
Around and around it goes until it stops at the last person, the only person sitting in the front row on the left side of the hall.
Gojo absentmindedly spins his pen, flipping the paper to the other side when he canât find his name. He runs a finger down the list as the lecturer drones though you doubt either you or Gojo are actually paying attention.
From this distance you canât make out his subtle movements but at one point, he stops spinning his pen and looks up, glancing briefly around the room.
You immediately duck down, finding something immensely interesting about your laptop. You donât look up until Nobara elbows you gently and asks if you need any ibuprofen. You shake your head, daring to cautiously peek over the edge of your laptop.
Gojo continues to face the front and you let out a small sigh of relief, straightening just enough to give off your best impression of someone who has been paying attention the entire time.
It's the usual mandatory assessment outline, a rundown on everything that actually mattered in the course: midterms, finals, biweekly quizzes. You mindlessly add the dates to your calendar until the professor highlights the missing 20% of the final grade.
âAnd finally, there is a pair presentation due in week 7.â Your eyes twitch and you cast your gaze back to the front. âThe details of the assessment will be explained during this weekâs lab so ask your questions then.â
A group project. Even worse, in pairs. Your eyes slide instinctively toward Gojo and the dread in your stomach collapses in on itself, condensing into something dense and horrible.
âYour pair and topic will be emailed to you later today.â The professor continues and when groans echo across the room, they only chuckle, undeterred. âDiversity is good for group work. Your colleagues wonât always be your friend.â
You glance around the room. How many people were in this class? Many, so many. What are the chances you get paired with Gojo? Slim, at least you hope so.
The moment the lecture ends, you shove your laptop into your bag, and flash Nobara an apologetic smile as you book it for the door. You keep your head down, both hands clutching your tote as it digs into your shoulder while you weave through the crowd spilling into the aisle.
Freedom appears as a bright light before you, and you almost think youâre safe whenâ
âNo way.â
Your pace stutters and against every instinct in your body screaming at you to keep walking, you freeze.
âY/N?â
Someone knocks into your shoulder on the way out and before you can use the momentum to slip out with the rest of the crowd, a hand grabs your arm and pulls you to the side.
You glare up at Gojoâs stupid face. He peers down at you, all ego and cocky exterior, like heâs discovered something entertaining. He sniffles, rubs his nose and pushes up his glasses all in one making you grimace at his apparent lack of hygiene.
âGod, why did it have to be you?â you grumble, more to yourself than him. You shake off his hold, pressing your arm to your side to prevent any further contact. âDonât touch me.â
âI knew I saw your name on the attendance sheet.â He smirks down at you, taking in the familiar sight of your frown. âCome on, smile a little. Youâre making it look like I'm extorting you.â
âDon't talk to me like weâre familiar, Gojo.â
âArenât we?â
âWe aren't.â
âWe talk though.â
âYou talk, I try my best to ignore you.â
âWe have mutual friends.â He points out next as if this hasnât been the sole reason for your pain and suffering. God bless Shokoâs kind, patient heart for putting up with him, but if you had to see his face at another outing you might decide to wrap your fingers around your neck and squeeze instead of staying.
âUnfortunately.â
His lips only curl into that irritating and carefree smile, worse when you decide begrudgingly that it could also pass as charming. Any potential compliment dies immediately when he speaks again.
âWhat crawled up your ass and died?â
âDonât talk about my ass.â
âCome on, are you still being a sore loser over finals? You had two whole weeks to get over that.â
That gets you. You exhale sharply, eyes narrowing dangerously as you lean forward to poke at his chest.
âFirst of all,â you begin, âI am not being a sore loser over finals. The one making a big deal of things is you so if youâre trying to get my attention, there are far less tedious ways.â
His eyebrows shoot up. âYou think I'm trying to get your attention?â
âIs there another reason why you wonât leave me alone, Gojo?â You sigh like itâs the most obvious thing. âLook, youâre not my type and thatâs okay. Not everyone can be. But seriously, sticking to me like an annoying bug isnât going to fix that. If anything, it worsens your chances, not that you had any to begin with.â
He waits and when you only seethe, he prompts you, âAnd?â
You blink, temporarily off guard. âThatâs it.â
âThen why did you start withâfirst of allâ?â
Your eyes narrow. âItâs like talking to a genie with some of you people.â
His grin is too easy, too casual as if you werenât fighting for your life to restrain from murdering him, as if he isnât standing between you and your only exit from this hell.
âHey, I just wanted to clarify,â he says, raising his hands up in a gesture of surrender that only grinds your gears further. âNo need to get so pissy. Itâs not a good look on you.â
You grit your teeth. âNo defense for the allegations though, I see.â
Gojo looks around with a hum, eyes doing a lazy sweep of the emptying lecture hall, hands lowering slightly. âYouâd think after all this time, youâd finally get the hint.â
He casts his gaze back to you expectantly, failing to elaborate on his cryptic message and you take a moment to think.
There were many things he isnât exactly subtle about:Â
flaunting his academic prowess
how much he seems to thrive off your annoyance
You pick the second. âWhat, that you get off to a pretty woman telling you to kill yourself?â
He presses his lips together, as if giving it serious thought. Your face immediately twists into something that can only be described as a grimace, and he laughs.
âDo you usually spend a lot of time thinking about what gets me off?â
âDo you always have to ask me stupid questions?â
âOnly because you always find a way to make the answers fun.â
âI'm telling you this now, Gojo. Youâve outgrown the age where teasing the girl you like works,â you shoot back with a snarl, unable to hide your frustration.
For a moment, something in his expression shifts.
Gojoâs eyes drop and you feel his gaze burn down your neck and drag from your top to your shoes. You canât help but shiver at the intensity of his stare and maybe he notices because he scoffs, looking away. âThat hurts my reputation. Youâre not my type.â
Your eye twitches. âBat for the other team, do you?â
âHow egotistical. You think just because a guy doesnât like you he must be gay?â
âWell, thereâs definitely a higher likelihood."
âYou must have tested that with a small sample size because that doesnât sound statistically significant.â
You roll your eyes, shifting your weight to edge closer to the door. âOf course you canât help but be a fucking nerd about everything."
âWhining doesnât exactly help your side of the argument."
âNo, but it might stop me from reaching over and punting your head in.â
Gojo whistles low, the noise sharper now that most students have left. âAre you purposefully testing me? I thought we established that I liked girls who keep me on my toes.â
You wrinkle your nose. âThereâs a difference between keeping someone on their toes and wanting to throttle them.â
âYou better be careful because it's a thinner line than most for me.â
âYou are disgusting.â
âThat doesnât explain why you keep talking to me, though.â
âLike I have a choice. Youâre the one who grabbed my arm. If I miss my bus because of you doing whatever this is with me, I will put you in the ground.â
âYouâre still here though.â
You sigh, exasperated. âBecause youâre standing in the fucking doorway, you idiot.â
âOh,â he says, but makes absolutely no move to step aside.
You inhale slowly through your nose, channeling a calm you most certainly do not feel. âMove.â
âSay please.â
Your smile turns dangerously sweet. âI said move.â
âStill not hearing the magic word.â
You give up, sensing youâll only continue to lose. Before you can suck it up and brush past him, dreading even the brief contact of his shoulder against yours, he steps closer. His gaze flutters down for a moment, something foreign passing over his face as he clears his throat.
It makes your heart seize at how unfamiliar he looks, though that fades quickly when his eyes snap back up, that irritating grin firmly in place.
âActually, I was thinking. Are you free thisââ Before he can finish, a loud tune sounds from his pocket and he groans, abandoning his words to pull out his phone. The smile that had been on his face scrunches up, and he absentmindedly types a response with one hand before looking back up at you. âMy bad. I was going say if youâreââ
But in the few seconds his attention is elsewhere, youâve already bolted.
âHey, wait!â His voice chases after you and you press on, echoing faintly against the tiled floors as you round the corner at a pace thatâs just shy of running. âIâm going to count this as my win if you run away from me!â
You jam your airpods into your ears with unnecessary force, scrolling blindly until music floods your head and drowns him out completely.
If the world was going to convince you it wasnât about to end, it better start looking up for you soon.
Unfortunately, the world really doesnât give a shit about what you think because your karmic debt piles high.
Shoko had abandoned you in your time of need, leaving you to tackle the shift alone. You close the cafe door behind you, turning the key so that the handle doesnât rattle under your palm, and sniff when the cold air immediately bites at your face. Your scarf comes up instinctively, burying your nose and mouth as a harsh wind cuts through the street now that youâre no longer protected by the warmth of the cafe.
What a long day.
You clutch your scarf as it flutters wildly until the wind settles, the evening air growing still enough that it stops stinging your cheeks.
Nothing particularly bad had even happened today.
It wasnât overly busy though it was far from quiet. You even managed to pass the long hours when some old friends showed up, though the conversation had only lasted as long as it took to make their coffee.
But when itâs still or in the moments when you wait for a customerâs order, you feel something unpleasant settle in. The air feels too stale, time clicking by too slowly and the sensation of the ground moving beneath is unnerving. Your eyes refuse to move at times and you find yourself zoning out at nothing, hands moving in autopilot as you make drink after drink after drink, the repetition slowly pulling you apart one seam at a time.
Your feet find their way to the bus stop and you breathe out slowly, mist curling into the cold evening air as you look up to watch it dissipate.
How freeing would it be to be up there? The wind in your hair, biting cold against your nose and the tips of your ears, the rush of air in your lungs, and that terrifying exhilaration that comes from rising and falling and rising again. You imagine being weightless, being untouchable, being above it all and finally free.
You shake that nonsense thought away.
Itâs just one of those bad days.
The bus pulls up, blowing exhaust and humid air, and youâve only just placed a foot onto the bus when a loud crash sounds to your left.
You look over just as something flies past and slams into the bus stop, the metal denting under the immense weight. Itâs not your finest moment but you duck, covering your head, and let out a scream as the loud noise deafens you.
The bus drives off in the chaos, certainly breaking several traffic laws, and you curse the driver when you realise youâve been abandoned.
Peeking an eye open as the dust settles, you lower your arms and come face to face with the heavy object that had slammed against the stand.
Slowly, you ask, â...Spiderman?â
The blue and white figure coughs, hitting his chest with his fist. âYou called?â
Spiderman looks up and freezes. It might be your imagination but he looks even more winded when his eyes lock on yours. Actually, youâre certain itâs your imagination because his mask completely obscures his facial expressions, save for the slight widening of the white parts indicating his eyes.
You crawl forward a little. âShit, you went down hard. Do you have a concussion?â
The superhero runs a battered hand down his face, stopping only when it slides down to cover his mouth, and lets out a muffled groan. âYou have got to be fucking kidding.â
You blink. âExcuse me?â
Before he can say anything else, a wet, splintering crack sounds from across the street.
You look over your shoulder as he tilts to look around you. A man staggers out of gate five beside the university-run pharmacy, though stagger might be too human a word for it. Something black and shining writhes over his body, swallowing him from the neck down like spilled tar, except tar doesnât pulse. It stretches over his arms in twitching strands and thickens into jagged unnatural muscle, back hunching with a sickening pop as he lurches forward.
You rub your eyes and stare again.
âI know the feeling,â Spiderman says, pushing himself upright with a wince. âThatâs my exact review too.â
The thingâs head jerks in your direction.
Spiderman notices before you do, wringing out his hands and doing some jumping jacks on the spot. âAnd thatâs my cue to ask you very calmly to start running.â
When the thing charges at you, thereâs no time to pretend to be composed. You let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a shriek and fling yourself backward as the thing barrels forward. A web shoots from behind you and lands on the bus stop-frame, yanking Spiderman into its path just in time to take the hit instead.
He gets absolutely bodied.
âJesus Christ,â you blurt as he falls back further down the road.
Spiderman slings to grab onto a nearby, and luckily deserted car, and slams it into the side of the villain, picking himself up in the few seconds he has to breathe when the figure crashes into a nearby building.
âI know,â he wheezes, dusting off his suit. âEveryone says that when they see me. Iâm basically the second coming of that guy.â
âAre you okay? Do you need⊠backup?â You look around at the site. Cars have started swerving and backing away to avoid the scene and bystanders are ducked somewhere safe. You alone remain inside the heavily damaged bus stop a few metres from where the figure is now pulling itself onto his feet.
Realistically, you should do the smart thing and hide, too. But one feeble attempt to get on your feet tells you what you already know; that youâve managed to fuck up your ankle in your panic.
Spiderman has his hands thrown up. âWhy are you not running? I told you to run.â
âWhy are you losing?â
âIâm not losing,â he snaps, affronted. âAre you always this difficult? Listen to the cityâs superhero and get out of here.â
âIf this is my superhero, then Iâm already cooked.â
The creature roars and charges again, much alike a bull seeing red and youâre the unfortunate sole on the ground in its path.
Spiderman seems to have enough sense to conclude thereâs something wrong with your body and not your head as he swears, shooting two webs in quick succession, one to a traffic light pole and the other to the creatureâs arm, trying to stabilise himself to swing the heavy villain sideways. It works for maybe half a second before the pole lifts off the ground and Spiderman sighs before being the one flung away.
You watch as Spiderman hits the ground hard, again. Thankfully, itâs enough distraction for the figure to leave you alone but you can only grimace especially when he picks himself up.
Spiderman pushes up on one knee, clearly trying to buy time, and calls, âHey, big guy, quick question before you maul me. Is this like, a skincare thing? Because I think whatever routine youâre on is clogging your pores. Thereâs a pharmacy right over there. Want me to get you some pimple patches?â
The figure ignores his provocation by charging forward again and itâs you that looks back over your shoulder at the pharmacy. Frankly put, your trust in the masked vigilante is at an all time low and if thereâs any chance of living beyond this encounter, you need to do something.
Despite the throbbing pain in your ankle, you pull yourself up against the dented wall of the bus stop and edge closer to the campus. Then, you break into a valiant attempt at a sprint.
âThatâs it, get out of here!â he calls out after you.
You grit your teeth both from the pain and general annoyance. âIâm not running!â
âWhat the hell are you doing then?â
âSomething useful, unlike you!â
Spiderman finally looks up from wrangling with the figure. âHuh?â
You manage to limp to the pharmacy and wrench its fire extinguisher free from its bracket, using more effort than expected especially as youâre already winded and nearly fumble with the weight of it. You spin back around just as the creature grabs Spiderman by the throat and slams him into the side of the bus stop again. You hobble back to the scene with a sympathetic wince.
My God, the thing is already gone, leave it alone.
The figure looms over the fallen superhero, the goo oozing off solidifying into a slimy tendril that sharpens. It slides along Spidermanâs jaw and tilts his head up, cutting right through the fabric of his mask before stopping at his throat.
The figure opens its mouth as if to say something but is cut off when you yank the pin with shaking hands. For a moment, nothing happens and youâre all about ready to apologise and excuse yourself from the scene when the extinguisher goes off in a violent burst of white foam that manages to encapsulate the figure despite the distance.
The black mass recoils with a horrible screech, the sound sharp and inhuman, like nails scratching against metal. It peels back in frantic, rippling waves, twitching and writhing away from the spray. The man underneath the goo drops to one knee, gasping as his eyes roll back down from the back of his head, and shudders before collapsing on the ground.
What remains of the gunk ripples along the pavement before slithering down a gutter and leaving nothing behind, almost as if nothing had ever happened. If not for the battered bus stop and the hole in the wall.
You lower the extinguisher slowly, breathless. âMaybe I should give this superhero thing a shot.â
âNah, I donât think you have the guts for it.â
Before you can even turn properly to defend your case, strong arms hook around you and the ground disappears.
The sound that leaves you is less scream and more pure, humiliated terror as gravity tilts sideways. You catch a flash of white, the sharp snap of a web latching somewhere high above, and then heâs hauling you up with it, body lifting clean off the pavement.
âWaitââ
The city drops out beneath you in dizzying blurs of orange streetlights and rooftops, your stomach left somewhere back by the ruined bus stop. Spiderman carries you like you weigh nothing, one arm locked securely around your waist whilst the other shoots webs with impossible precision, each swing smooth despite the fact that he had been getting his ass kicked mere seconds ago. Wind tears at your scarf and shoves tears from your eyes.
You clutch at him with both hands âHold on, we need to go back and help that guy!â
âIâm a superhero, not a paramedic!â Spiderman calls back, voice steady despite the speed. âHeâll be fine, help is already on the way. But thereâs an unconscious guy on the ground, a destroyed bus stop, at least six insurance claims, and Iâm pretty sure your bus abandoned you ages ago. You cannot stay there.â
âAnd thatâs the reason why Iâm up here?â
âSuperhero, my ass,â he might have said but your attention is pulled in far too many directions to be sure.
You make the fatal mistake of looking down. The road below is a smear of headlights and moving colour, terrifyingly far away.
âOh my God,â you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut again. âThis is how I die. Iâm going to become roadkill. Iâm going to go splat.â
âThat is so hurtful after I literally just rescued you.â
âI would still be grateful if you had left it there.â
His laugh is snatched by the wind, warm and infuriating and entirely too amused for someone who had looked so pathetic sprawled out on the ground. He adjusts his grip slightly when your fingers knot tighter in the front of his suit, and if he notices how hard youâre shaking, he has the decency to not make anymore comments, swinging you both up in a smooth arc.
âOkay,â he relents. âDeep breaths, Iâm not actually going to drop you.â
You give your most valiant attempt of a snort. âTelling me to breathe deeply as Iâm not already trying.â
âWould you prefer shallow, panicked ones then?â
âI would prefer to be on the ground!â
âYour wish is my command.â
After another swing and a sharp turn that nearly rips your soul from your body, Spiderman descends toward the quieter edge of campus and lands in a narrow pedestrian lane beside the university security office. Itâs bright here, washed in fluorescent light, and close enough to the main road that you can already hear the traffic and voices navigating the post-chaos.
The second your shoes touch concrete, your knees threaten to fold. You grab his arm on instinct, digging your fingers in as you glance at him. âYou do that every day?â
You can almost hear the smugness in his voice, and something else. âItâs basically my 9-5.â
Itâs most definitely just your imagination but you feel as though his gaze softens, looking at you trembling like a newborn bird. He watches as you regain sensation in your legs though your hand remains on his arm. He doesnât make any move to remove it.
A baffled laugh escapes you, more air than sound. âI canât believe Iâm still alive.â
âDo you need to sit down?â
You shake your head softly. âIâm fine⊠thank you for saving me, Spiderman.â
âI should be thanking you. I was getting my ass kicked out there.â
âI know, I saw.â
He tilts his head. âI thought you were thankful?â
âBoth those things can be true at the same time.â Then, you go on your tippy toes and press a soft kiss to his cheek. âBut Iâm definitely very thankful.âÂ
You feel the superhero stiffen under your touch and the white fabric of his mask widens before he jerks slightly backward, free hand flying up to hover over where you kissed. âDid you justââ
Thereâs something about the tone of his voice, pitched higher now in surprise, that has you blinking. âYou soundâŠâ
If you werenât sure about his tension before, he most definitely freezes now, his hand pulling back down to rest over your hand on his arm and pull it off. âOh, uhâyou should head back, injured and stupid civilian. I know the people in the office. They should be able to get you home.â
âNo wait, hold on.â You narrow your eyes, taking a step forward that he immediately responds to by stepping back. âDo I know you?â
He points at himself, backing away slowly. âMe? You might have seen me on the news or seen one of my promotional posters.â
âNo, because you were weird the second you saw me.â
âI was bleeding out and on the verge of death,â he says. âLetâs not pathologise me.â
âYou looked right at me and said something like, âyou have got to be fucking kiddingâ.â
He tilts his head and takes another step back. âDid I say that? Hm, no, not ringing any bells. Your ankle is injured, maybe stop walking towards me. Youâre freaking me out and I donât do well with girls.â
You open your mouth to say more when he suddenly points at something over your shoulder. âOh shit, is that a bird? A plane?â
You turn instinctively. There is no one there, of course, but itâs a realisation seconds too late. Because by the time you whip back around, heâs already two steps away, web fired high above, body coiled to launch.
âOh, you assholeââ
âGet home safe!â he calls, voice cheerful in a way that irks you.
âWaitââ
He shoots upward before the word can properly leave your mouth. You hobble forward, outrage momentarily stronger than the pain in your ankle.
âYou canât just dump me here and leave!â you yell after him. âIâm literally injured! Jerk!â
âMaâam, can we help you?â
You freeze and your shoulder slump even as you turn around. The staff inside the office have stepped out hearing all the commotion and you realised Spiderman can definitely leave an injured civilian here. Curse his fast thinking and kind heart.
You freeze and your shoulder slump even as you turn around. The staff inside the office have stepped out hearing all the commotion and you realised Spiderman can definitely leave an injured civilian here. Curse his fast thinking and kind heart.
Itâs only when the sun has lowered into a splash of pink and orange in the sky that you finish tolerating the endless questioning from both the security office staff and the police. Thankfully, theyâre kind enough to drive you back to your apartment though youâre slightly annoyed the rest of the day had been wasted on telling them âI donât knowâ over and over again.
The moment you step back into your room, your phone buzzes with multiple notifications. Thereâs an Outlook email from your neuropharmacology course and three texts from an unknown number.
unknown: looks like you lucked out and weâre partners
itâs gojo btw
lets meet tomorrow @ uni library
And because you genuinely cannot feel even worse than you already do, you turn your face to bury into your pillow and groan.Â
You donât end up confirming Gojoâs plans until halfway through your morning tutorial the next day when he double texts.
DO NOT ANSWER: ?
donât leave me on read
you can hate me all u want but the project is worth 20% yk!!!!!!
you: ok
time?
DO NOT ANSWER: ohhh so now u respond huh
id hate to think im forgettable
you: time
DO NOT ANSWER: (â„ïčâ„)
iâll get on campus at 12 ish so like in ten minutes
You push the thought that as a grown man, he really shouldnât be texting like that away, and flip your phone back down on the table just as the class ends.
âWant to check out this new bingsu place near the station?â Utahime chatters as she shoves her iPad into her tote and picks up her coffee, watching you follow behind albeit slower with dread. âThey have this new Thai tea bingsu and it looks crazy good. Shoko swears by it butâand you canât tell her I said thisâitâs crazy that she went out for lunch without us. Does she not fuck with us anymore? Who did she even go with?â
You smile wistfully at her. âI wish I could, Utahime, but I already have plans after this.â
âWhat the fuck, et tu?â She processes your words with a frown. âDid you take on a shift today? I thought you only had this one class today.â
âNo, itâs even worse. I need to lock in for my neuropharmacology assessment.â
She pauses, cup halfway to her mouth before her lips split into a wide grin. âOh my God. With Gojo?â
You groan, zipping your bag with more force than necessary. You sling it over your shoulder and try to hurry away from her, but itâs too late and she follows quickly after.
âDonât remind me.â
âYouâre choosing to hang out with Gojo over me?â Her voice peaks at the end, and you hate how happy she looks at the thought of you ditching her.
âThis isnât a choice I want to make at all so donât say it like that. And donât look so happy, freak.â
âOh, this is rich. You were bitching about him all of last semester and now youâre choosing him over me?â Utahime giggles, pulling out her phone with her free hand. âShoko is going to love this.â
You raise an eyebrow, catching the opening. âI thought you were mad at her for getting lunch without you? Youâre so fickle.â
She hums absentmindedly, already outing your situation to the group chat, no doubt. âOur friendship runs deeper than one betrayal.â
You grin as you approach the library stairs, looking back over your shoulder. âFriendship, huh?â
She whips her head up at you, eyes flickering down to her cup where the red words written across the side spells out a cute reminder to have a good day. A flush creeps up her face. âWhat? Donât say that like itâs something to point out! We are friends!â
âI didnât even say anything!â
âYouâre giving me that look again. Iâm not a blind masochist, Y/N. I can tell when you have something to say, and Iâm not taking it lying down.â
âYouâre just lucky I havenât said a word to Shoko yet.â
Utahime grumbles, crossing her arms. âIf you do, Iâll kill myself.â
You laugh, glad to get the last word. âIâll see you later, Utahime. Go say hi to Shoko for me!â
âI will see Shoko, but only to tell her that.â
âSure,â you say, and enter the building.
The library is busy, bustling with students as they lean over textbooks and clack away at their laptops. Itâs not quite midterm season yet, so the fact that the library is so full should be concerning. With so many heads bent down, there is little chance youâll find Gojo.
You swallow your pride and pull out your phone.
you: iâm here
where are you?
DO NOT ANSWER: not her eyet wa it
wait
smth came up
You frown. Heâs the one who set the time and has the audacity to be late? Typical for someone as inconsiderate as him, you decide, and choose a table near the back of the library just so he can struggle to find you when he finally arrives.
You take out your laptop and start a new document, opening the tab for the marking rubric, the assessment notification, and some articles you found doing a quick search on PubMed. You even get around to dot-pointing one of them when someone dumps their bag on the table next to you.
You jump. âFuck.â
âDid I scare you?â
The voice alone is enough to make you freeze though you quickly snap out of it to glare up at the culprit. Gojo stands beside you, panting slightly, running a hand through his messy hair like itâll fix his disheveled appearance. The buttons of his shirt are mismatched and one side of his collar is tucked inward.
âHey,â he greets with a lopsided smile.
âHow are you late when youâre the one who said to meet at twelve?â
Gojo shrugs as if it isnât a big deal and flops into the seat next to you. You had intended for him to sit across the table but you didnât have the time to slip the words into the conversation before he starts talking.
âDidnât I tell you? I had something to do. Did you read my texts with your eyes closed or something?â
âIf you think I could have deciphered that from what you said, then youâre dumber than I thought. Did you run into an electric fence or something?â
He smiles at you like your words had been an inside joke. âI told you after that part.â
âDo you ever take anything seriously? This is worth twenty percent of our grade. You canât just mess around and expect to still do well.â
âCanât I? Itâs always worked before.â
And because you donât doubt that, it only serves to piss you off even more. He catches onto your scowl, smirk widening.
âRelax, youâll pop a blood vessel. We still have weeks to get this done so who cares?â
You roll your eyes and force yourself to be satisfied with just that, turning back to to your laptop in an effort to calm down. âMe, obviously. Look, Iâm only staying on campus until two, so letâs just get this done quickly so we can both leave. Iâm sure you donât want to be here either so letâs just be adults and get this over and done with.â
You take a deep breath and prepare yourself to look back at him and point out what youâve already planned on the document but stop short when you find him already watching you.
You grimace and edge away slightly. âWhat?â
âNothing.â He shifts to pull out his laptop and then a wired mouse.
You eye the chunky device with disbelief, wondering if perhaps his bag is bigger on the inside than the outside and then at its corded pet. Itâs only when he pulls out yet another accessory, a mouse pad, that you blurt, âDo you seriously carry a whole gaming laptop setup with you every day for class?â
Gojo holds down the power button for a couple of seconds, the fans whirring to life and filling the library with insistent static.
âYeah, I love this thing. It can handle all my programs and I can play League on it too so whatâs not to like? It can run Sims 4 and all my CCâs without any lag, itâs literally my baby. Itâs only right that I give it everything it needs in return.â
You scrunch your nose. âYou play into the stereotype way too much.â
âWhat stereotype?â
âWhat else? The nerd stereotype.â
He huffs, apparently offended. âIâm not a nerd.â
âArenât you?â You eye him up and down. âYou tick off all the boxes. The glasses, the smartass attitude, the gaming laptopââ
âYou wear glasses.â He starts listing, holding out his hand to count.
âI wear contacts.â
âBut you wear your glasses in the morning. For morning tutorials and lectures and stuff,â he continues, undeterred. âYou carry yourself like youâre better than everyone elseââ
âI do notââ
âThough youâre probably too broke to buy a gaming laptop so I guess itâs better to be a nerd than whatever you are.â He finishes with a smug grin that makes you want to curl your fingers into a fist and throw that right into his pretty face.
âI donât carry myself like Iâm better than anyone,â you decide to clear up.
He makes an unconvinced sound. âYou do.â
âI donât.â You press your lips together and sigh, breaking the eye contact though not without effort. âStop trying to waste my time.â
âYou found me out. âThrough the whirring of his laptop, you can make out his slight chuckle. He leans onto the table with his elbows, voice almost a childish whine. âLetâs talk. Why do you hate me so much?â
Your fingers stutter on your keyboard. Sucking in a deep breath, you turn your head and face him on. ââI donât hate you. Obviously.
âObviously,â he repeats, the curl of his lips an obvious indicator that he doesnât believe you. âBut youâre always frowning when we talk.â
âWe donât talk,â you emphasise again and against your attempt at nonchalance, your brows pinch together. âAnd I donât hate you.â
âRight? I havenât even done anything to you.â
Your eye twitches at that. You rein it in, rein in that explosive feeling in your chest as if another word from his mouth will send you spiralling. You know it will, as inevitable as the crash-out youâll be having to Shoko later at the cafe.
âGojo,â you start calmly. âWe have four weeks to do this assessment and frankly, I still have a life to live outside this so letâs just get this over and done with, okay?â
He looks at you a little longer and you would have asked what exactly he was searching for on your face, but something tells you that opening this can of worms will only confuse you more so you only stare back.
âAlright,â he says finally. âAdd me to the document.â
You hit share and tilt your laptop towards him, watching as his long fingers dwarf your keyboard. He slides it back over and you nod, satisfied. âI already looked at some sources so you can just start off one of those.â
Gojo glances back at his gaming laptop, clicking on the document. You watch as a new anonymous user hops onto the page: Anonymous Snow Leopard. Heâs already typing away and when you click on the animal to find his cursor, heâs finishing off a second sentence notably not under one of those articles you had found. You frown as you read.
âHold on.â
He sighs, fingers pausing. âWhat now?â
You point to your screen at where heâs stopped typing. âYou canât just say things like this without a source.â
âIâll cite it later.â
âThatâs now how you research. Youâre meant to find an article first and then write your own interpretation afterwards based on it.â
He waves his hand dismissively. âPotato, potahto.â
âOkay, no. We are not doing this.â
âSee, this is where your pretentiousness kicks in.â
âWhat, because I know how to research properly?â
âBecause youâre trying to control every little thing.â
âIâm not being controlling, This counts to my grade too so I have a say.â
âAnd whereâs my say?â
âYouâre thinking too far, maybe focus on actually saying something useful first.â
âSee? Pretentious.â
âPot calling the kettle black.â
âSo you admit it?â
âMaybe, do you?â
He leans in, sneering. âIâve gotten top marks doing it my way and Iâm not going to change it now just because you have some inferiority complex over me.â
You flush, leaning back. âWell, Iâve gotten high marks doing it my way! And I donât have an inferiority complex, much less to you.â
âThen you can use your method and Iâll use mine. We donât have to collaborate any more than we need to.â
You hate to admit that he might be right. Outwardly however, you grit your teeth and summon an inner peace. âGojo. Find an article before you start talking out of your ass.â
He groans as if deeply inconvenienced and though the sound makes you tense as if he might spit out another remark, he only turns back to his laptop and clicks open a new tab with exaggeration.
âFine, fine. Geez. Youâre really annoying, you know that?â he grumbles, slouching in his seat.
Youâre about to drop another snarky response when something on his screen catches your eye, a tab peeking out in a red tab folder titled self indulgent. You lean forward slightly, catching the title when his cursor flicks by. It seems like an impossible task to read the words in the split second when the pop-up shows, if you hadnât been stunlocked on that tab yourself earlier that week.
hoping thereâs a modification of kumamonâs line, r/digimon.
âWait,â you blurt, placing your hand on his arm.
He freezes under your touch, though you pay no attention to the sensation. âWhat?â
âWas that a Digimon Reddit thread?â
Gojo doesnât say anything for a while, and you have to look over at him to check if he was paying attention. His shoulders seem visibly tense, eyes flickering to the tab and then over at you. ââŠNo?â
You donât wait for permission, sliding your own laptop to the side to take a hold of his. He makes a brief noise of protest, hands coming up as if to stop you, but they pause right before touching. The hesitation gives you the chance to click on the tab.
The screen that loads confirms your suspicions. Your eyes widen, taking in the familiar Digimon forum, open to the exact post youâve spent the last week arguing in the comments. âYouâre in the Digimon subreddit?â
âDonât do this. You already give me enough shit about carrying a gaming laptop. Donât ruin this nostalgia for me,â he mutters, looking away, and you finally realise that his tense shoulders might be because heâs bracing for an impact that isnât coming. You find yourself, somewhat absently, marvelling at the sudden quietness of him. Maybe this is what people see when they talk about Gojo like heâs the second coming of Jesus.
You laugh in disbelief.
He only stiffens more until you exclaim, âGojoverrated?â
âLook, I made that username when I was twelve and it just stuck, alright? Iâm sure your usernames at twelve were much worseââ
âSo it was you that wrote that stupid rant about Kumamonâs evolution! It was like, a thousand words!â
Gojo whips around to face you immediately. His eyes take you in, sweeping up and down your appearance as if trying to associate you with your words. âYou pronounced Kumamon right. You know about the post? You read it?â
âAre you questioning my reading comprehension skills now?â
âNo, Iââ he stutters, actually tripping over his words in front of you which only makes your smile widen. He clears his throat and tries again. âI just meantâyou read this?â
âRead it? I responded to it, smartass.â
Thereâs a long pause, and you wait for recognition to dawn. He straightens slowly, eyes opening wide. âThereâs no way. Youâre notââ
You beam. âIâm Digimonlvr3000!ââSurprise aside, you should not be saying that username with so much pride.â But then he stares at you like the ground beneath him has just fallen through. âBut shut up, thereâs no fucking way.â
âYou seriously hate the transition from Grizzmon to GrapLeomon?â you start, elbows resting on the table as you lean in. The same banter falls from your lips, but you refuse to acknowledge how it lacks venom.
âYou canât just go from a bear cub to a bear, and then to some mechanical lion-man, and then a unicorn-panther-headed half-nude dude.â He blinks at you even as he talks, eyes still wide as he struggles to comprehend saying these words to someone other than Suguru, considering his best friend is the only person who would at least pretend to listen.
Gojo flinches like youâve insulted him personally, more than any of your actually hurtful insults have ever managed to make him flinch. âDonât even joke, Y/N. Itâs not a crime to like coherent evolution lines.â
You shrug. âThe randomness makes it fun. Itâs Digimonâs whole brand.â
âAnd yet, the most iconic Digimon evolution lines come from coherent ones. You know, ones that make sense and have a consistent visual theme from Rookie to Mega. There is nothing that ties Grizzmon to GrapLeomon.â His lips quiver as he talks, eyes still wide, shock lingering. He canât help letting his gaze sweep over you again and again. He thinks then that maybe the person who said never to judge a book by its cover had actually been onto something.
You raise a finger, drawing him out of his daze. âUm, actually, there is, though. The whole theme of grappling and fist-fighting? Does that ring a bell?â
âThatâs the same argument you used in your comments.â
âThe same comment you have yet to respond to.â You pause, thinking. âJust like right now, actually.â
âYeah?â he starts, and you know youâve got him again. He presses on regardless. âWell, youâre the one who made that post about disliking Rhinokabuterimon more than Daipenmon.â
âAnd I stand by that.â
âOh my god,â he says slowly, taking you in. âYouâre worse in person.â
âYour Kumamon rant got locked by a mod,â you remind him. âSomehow that makes sense. Youâre as annoying online as you are in person.â
âIt was locked for too many off-topic replies, which is partially your fault.â
âI wasnât going to let you have the last word.â
âLast word, huh. Great segue toââ
âNo, donât bring that up, stopââ
ââto your Digimon fanfiction account that you have linked in your bio.â
You groan, long and low, covering your face with your hands. Warmth creeps up your neck, burning against your cheeks when you hear him laugh at your expense. You try to gather your dignity, peeking between your fingers to accuse him as you say, âHow would you know? Did you read them?â
âOf course I did,â he says without shame, and any thought of turning the tables back on him dissipates. He watches you suffer from embarrassment for only a second longer before resting his chin on his palm, leaning away as if to act casual. âSo. Do you play the TCG?â he asks, despite the fact that he knows heâs seen your username floating around in the Digimon TCG subreddit.
You pull your hands away with a start. âDo I play? Is the sky blue?â
Gojoâs lips quiver upward. âDuel me.â
âOkay,â you say quickly, too quickly, and you clear your throat in an effort to reset yourself. He doesnât seem to notice, already digging through his bag for something. âOh, you meant right now.â
He pauses, looking up. âYeah. Do you not have your deck?â
âI donât carry it on me, no.â For some reason, the thought that he does brings a small smile to your face.
He visibly deflates, and a thought tries to enter your mind, though youâre not quite there just yet. Instead, you laugh softly. âNext time then,â you say, enjoying the way his smile returns to his face. âWhat colour do you play, anyway?â
âPurple, obviously.â
You roll your eyes. âOf course youâre a purple player. You saw the post about how purple wins just about every big event in EX7, didnât you? Let me guess. Leviamon?â
âActually, I play DexDorugoramon. You?â
You hum as if that makes complete sense. âI play yellow. Not for any particular reason, I just like the Digimon in the decks.â
âYellow, huh? So youâre a feelscrafter.â He bites back a goofy smile, but it shows.
âDonât say that word like itâs a slur.â
âDo you even play the meta?â
You scoff. âOf course I do. But playing good isnât even fun anymore.â
Gojo laughs, and from behind him, you catch a few students looking over with narrowed eyes. He pays them no mind, leaning in. âSee? Pretentious.â
You lean forward too, reply on the ready, the only thing missing is the exact wording you want to use to shoot him down, when his phone goes off. Is this the second time now? Just how popular is this guy?
His gaze falters before he pulls back to wrestle his phone out of his pocket. Youâre left facing him, and you draw back too, clearing your throat as you turn to your laptop.
What the fuck was that?
Your fingers type gibberish into the document, then drag your finger across your trackpad to erase it only to type another string of incoherent letters and symbols. Your mind races through the conversation, noting the genuine joy in your voice, the amusement when Gojo responded just as enthusiastically. Thereâs a warmth in your stomach thatâs hard to get rid of.
What the fuck.
Youâre not eavesdropping. Thatâs simply not what youâre doing. Though it isnât your fault if you happen to hear Gojo as he talks into his phone, his voice low out of respect for the library but not so low that you canât make out the conversation.
âAlright, yeah, I got it. Iâm not, so donât even start. God, shut the fuck up, Suguru. Iâll be over, give me ten minutes. Ten minutes. Yeah, probably, but youâre pissing me off, so Iâll be there in ten. Iâm already doing you a favour, man, so quit it before I change my mind.â You catch him rolling his eyes, his freakishly long eyelashes lifting and falling. âYou owe me.â
Gojo hangs up and sighs, running a hand through his hair. âHey, sorry about that. I have to go.â
You look up at him with a start. âGo? You just got here! Weâve only been working forâŠâ You glance down at the bottom right of your laptop screen. âAn hour and a half?â
He grins, though itâs small. âTime flies when youâre having fun.â
âNeuropharmacology is hardly fun.â
âNo, but the company is,â he says, unplugging his mouse and rolling up his mouse pad. As he stuffs his enormous gaming laptop into whatever space remains in his bag, he continues, âIâll text you when Iâm free next.â
âWe hardly got anything done today,â you find yourself saying. âNo thanks to your distraction.â
âMine? You continued it. If you really cared, you would have told me to shut up.â
âAs if you ever listen.â
Itâs far too easy to fall into a rhythm with him, you think begrudgingly. Heâs grinning lazily, lifting his glasses with his knuckle and otherwise unmoving beside your table. You huff, turning back to your laptop.
This feeling, at least, is familiar and comforting. âWhatever, Gojo. Iâll do my part as long as you do yours.â
He watches you for a second longer before taking a step back. âIâll text you.â
You give him a half-hearted wave. Only when youâre positive enough time has elapsed for him to have cleared the building and maybe half the courtyard do you exhale, slumping in your chair. Your eyes flick to the library doors. No sign of white hair.
You tell yourself youâre pissed, that thatâs what is currently sitting in your chest and the reason for your sudden restlessness. I mean, really, who arrives late to a meeting they scheduled and then leaves early?
Itâs a Friday afternoon, and he has you losing your mind over reports and Digimon, of all things. You should be at a bar. Or at home, in pajamas, catching up on backlog episodes of that new trash reality TV youâve been binging, or having that bingsu Utahime mentioned earlier. What you should not find yourself doing is thinking about Gojo and how pretty his genuine smile is, especially when itâs directed at you.
You scoff at your screen, type out a line, and then delete it.
What a joke.
academic freak: jumping on !! let me know if u can work on our project now :3
you: sorry I'm out rn
i can hop on at eight tonight though if youâre still free then?
academic freak: no worries
letâs do a video call then >< (6:43pm)
You stare at his last text, have been staring at his last text ever since you left your friends, hovering your thumb over the screen, unsure. And now it was almost eight pm and you were still staring.
It's not like this is the first time youâve ever video called someone, and itâs not like he matters, but something akin to nervousness settles in your stomach. He's just your annoyingly good-looking, annoyingly smart project partner. Shokoâs childhood best friend. The guy that embarrassed you last semester. Nothing more.
Still, you keep blinking at the message, at the double exclamation marks and all his stupid emoticons.
academic freak: can i call u now?
You flinch when the typing bubble pops up but you fail to swipe out before the message is sent, and the read receipt lights up immediately.
academic freak: ?
waiting for me?
You groan aloud, running a hand down your face. Thereâs no dignified way out of this, so with a sigh, you hit call. The screen rings once, twice, and you suddenly jump up, nervesâor whatever the hell you want to call itâcausing you to sweat.
You should change, brush your hair maybe, fuck, you took out your contacts already. One time in third grade, someone said you looked different with glasses compared to without. What did that mean? Was the difference that extreme? Why couldnât you see it? Would Gojo be able to tell?
Before you can answer any of those questions, your phone flickers to life.
âHey,â Gojo says, grinning as his camera turns on. Heâs a little too close at first, but after seeing your surprised face, he leans back and settles into view. His hair is slightly tousled, glasses perched low on his nose, the logo of the university peeking just into view on his jumper.
âHi.â You clear your throat, adjusting your phone so it sits upright on your table. âI wasnât waiting for your text, by the way. You just messaged me just as I was about to message you. Thatâs all.â
He raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his face. Thankfully, he doesnât push. âSorry for ditching you earlier, but Iâm here now.â
You nod, opening your laptop on the table. As it hums to life, your eyes flick back over to your phone and trace what you can see inside his room. He has a lamp on, warm light washing over his face as he leans back into view, a lollipop in his hand, and thereâs an assortment of plushies on his bed behind him. You narrow your eyes.
âIs that Agumon?â
Gojo glances back, then shrugs like itâs the most natural thing in the world. âHe guards my bed.â
You stifle a laugh. âStill getting nightmares at your big age?â
âDonât tell me youâre too cool for plushies.â He rolls his eyes, though his face quickly splits into a grin when you pull out your own plushie, placing it comfortably on your lap, its head peeking into frame. âThere we go. Thatâs more like it.â
His praise does things to you that you donât dare put into words. You squeeze your plushie tight.
You busy yourself with opening the document, taking extra long to fiddle around with opening and closing random tabs. Itâs hard to focus on one thing, you see, not when Gojo is staring at you unabashedly, cheek smushed against his hand like he has nowhere else to be.
You donât look up right away, clicking through your email, Spotify, the university site, waiting for him to get bored and finally free you from his gaze, but he doesnât.
Clearing your throat, you finally drag your gaze up to his face. âWe shouldââ you start, but cut yourself off. âWhat?â
âHm?â He blinks when your eyes meet.
âWhyâre you staring at me like that?â
Gojo lets the silence drag on for a little longer until he chuckles, dropping his head to look down at his own laptop screen. âWho said I was looking at you?â
You arch a brow, glancing over your shoulder, then around your room. âIs there someone else in the room with me now?â
âAsk that question again when we have a Ouija board.â He types something, and you watch the words pop up on your screen. âI was just thinking how different you are when youâre not on campus. Youâre quieter, for one. Less teeth-baring.â
âIf you want me to insult you, you only have to ask.â
He grins, eyes lazy with amusement. âSee? Even that lacks any bite.â
âSays you. Iâm surprised you havenât made a comment on my glasses or something,â you say, unwilling to be outdone.
âAnd what, your messy desk?â
You shove your textbooks out of frame. âI knew it.â
He shrugs offhandedly, returning his attention to his laptop. You follow his lead, blinking in surprise when he doesnât continue with another snarky comment. Itâs silent again for a while.
âIt suits you. You look nice with your hair tied back.â
Your hands fly to the back of your head and close around your claw clip, mouth hanging open as you stare at him. Gojo keeps typing like he didnât just casually compliment you, as if he hadnât just thrown a curveball into your carefully built defences. You swallow hard, blinking as heat creeps into your cheeks.
âI⊠you look nice too?â
You wince as soon as the words leave your mouth, though you canât completely regret them, because theyâre what finally cause him to look up at you, his hands frozen over his keyboard. Then heâs laughing, and you take back that last thought just as quickly.
âAlright, alright, letâs just work on our project,â you mumble, ducking your head. Heâs still laughing, and you grit your teeth with effort. âIf you keep laughing, Iâm going to hang up on you.â
Gojoâs laughter lingers, soft and amused, as he savours the heat on your face for a second longer before nodding. âIâll stop, I swear.â His fingers return to the keyboard, but you catch the flicker of something like warmthâor maybe surpriseâin his eyes before he lowers his head too.
You take a breath and refocus on your document, with only the sounds of shuffling and keys clacking disturbing the space between the two of you. Every now and then, he asks a question about a point youâve made, or corrects something youâve written. His criticisms lack any heat, and you find yourself accepting his words without the usual spike in blood pressure.
Every now and then, his attention slips and he starts scrolling on Twitter in another tab, his snickering making you lift your head. Gojo immediately catches the movement and flips his laptop around to show you, letting you share a laugh with him.
He tells you about the Discord server he runs for hosting Digimon TCG games. You listen, asking for an invite when his voice quietens near the end, and the smile he beams at you makes your stomach flip.
You tell him about your hobbies, how youâve had to let go of piano because of your academic pursuits. He tells you he wants to hear a piece, your favourite piece to play, and you think for a moment that you might want to pick it up again.
At one point, light floods across the screen and you watch as he grumbles, lifting an arm to block the sudden brightness. A voice sounds through your phone speaker distantly, and you recognise it as Geto. You hadnât realised they were roommates.
âYou free tonight, Satoru? Haibaraâs having a get-together in a few hours. He asked me if you wanted to come along since you ditched halfway through theâoh.â Getoâs voice trails off, as if heâs only just noticed Gojoâs pinched expression. âYouâre on the phone to someone. Who? Let me see.â
âItâs none of your business!â He throws you a frantic glance and you shrug. âAnd knock first!â
âYou never knock.â You hear the shuffle of someone entering the room. âAnd you have three friends, and Iâm one of them. Is it Nanami? Shoko?â
You hear Gojoâs protests as something hits the phone and it swirls, landing face-up toward his ceiling. You notice he has light-up neon stars stuck haphazardly across it. Your heart squeezes. Cute.
Then a hand covers the screen and itâs a blur of black and red.
âBack off, Suguru, Iâm not going to Haibaraâs partyââ
âIs that a girl?â
âHey!â
Thereâs a whirl, and then you blink, biting your cheeks at the face suddenly staring back at you. Hesitantly, you raise a hand. âHey, Geto.â
Geto stares at you for a second before laughing, a low melody that has you shifting nervously in your seat. âY/N? I didnât know you and Satoru were so close. I always thought you two had this rivals thing going onââ
He doesnât finish his sentence because Gojo snatches his phone back, and you watch a tilted view of the interaction.
âTell Haibara I wonât be showing up.â
âSomething more important to do, Satoru?â
The world shifts again as Gojo flops back onto his bed, placing you upright on his table once more. He glances sideways at his roommate, directing his words at him even as his hands work to steady his phone. âItâs not what you think. Weâre working on our group project. It canât just evolve past Rookie stage on its own.â
You watch as he shoots a quick glance at you, eyes searching as if to ask, Did you catch that?
You canât help but grin a little, biting back a laugh.
âSure, thatâs all. Iâll go tell Haibara youâll come to the next one.â The light dims slightly and you assume Geto is closing the door. âYou owe me.â
When the light finally fades, Gojo turns back to you with an apologetic smile. Youâre thrilled to see him glance at you, then away, his hands coming up to run through his hair, an uncharacteristic shyness that makes your heart squeeze again.
âSorry about that.â
âNo, itâs okay. You guys seem close.â You absentmindedly rub at your chest, wondering if this is a sign of cardiovascular disease. âYou two dorm together?â
âWe moved out together at the beginning of second year. He lived, like, three hours from campus and needed a roommate. He asked me and I said yes.â
You rest your cheek on your palm, watching him through the small screen of your phone. âI never knew you two had so much history. I guess that makes sense, considering I never see you two apart.â
âHey, itâs not that bad.â
âIsnât it? Gojo and Geto, Geto and Gojo. Thereâs even a name for you two. Goge, though I prefer Gego.â
He frowns, brows pulled together. âThereâs a difference?â
âYeah,â you say, and leave it at that, unwilling to explain the difference. Reading over his last few words, you highlight them with your cursor. âGojo, this doesnât make sense. The rebuttal team will definitely have something to say about this.â
Gojo huffs, and you watch as he backspaces the sentence. âYou know, I almost miss the days when you were comfortably mediocre. Now itâs like Iâm back to being ten years old and getting taught long division by my dad.â
You snort, reaching for something to snap back with. Instead, you feel that sticky ball of unease in your stomach. Clearing your throat, you settle for, âWhat a universal experience.â
He looks up at that. âWhat, not going to tell me to kill myself for comparing you to my dad?â
âWas that an insult? Youâre losing your touch.â
âSays you. You donât even seem mad.â He squints at you, and you wish your Wi-Fi would give out so he could count the pixels on his screen instead of the thoughts threatening to burst free. âYou okay?â
You pause, bracing for the usual deflection to leap off your tongue. But thereâs something about the way heâs looking at you, something about the warmth wrapping around your shoulders, something about the brief glimpse into his private world that has you fidgeting to say something else.
You let out a thin laugh, eyes fixed on the words on your laptop screen. âGuess I didnât really care for grades back then.â
He snorts. âSeriously? And you still beat me on that quiz that one time? You make fun of me for being a prodigy, but I fear the call is coming from inside the house.â
You donât move. âIt was just luck.â
âAnd all your nineties since then? That all luck too?â
You shrug, but your mind screams the answer.
Gojo frowns, as if sensing that this goes deeper. âWhat is this really about, Y/N?â
For once, youâre thankful for his directness. When he says it like that, you find that you canât as easily hide behind an excuse. A part of you aches to be seen, to tell someone else something that might otherwise follow you to the grave. âItâs nothing serious. I guess Iâm just a little worried that Iâm too late to be good at this for real.â
His head tilts on-screen. âHuh?â
Heat creeps up your neck. âYou know, neuroscience. I never cared about my classes until last semester because I never cared for science. But then I realised how much I liked neuroanatomy and I started trying, and it paid off. But weâre in our last year. I feel like Iâve wasted too much time.â
When he doesnât immediately say anything, you barrel on. âYouâve always beenâŠâ You gesture vaguely at him, still not meeting his eyes. âGood. Effortless. And Iâm just now cramming to keep up. Like, whatâs the point, you know? Maybe Iâll never catch up. Even if I do, itâs too late for it to matter. Maybe thatâs why I was always annoyed at you. I wish I started caring like you did way back in first year or whenever it was that you decided you knew what to do.â
You try to laugh it off, but it comes out small and brittle.
Gojo doesnât answer right away. His usual smirk is gone, replaced with something more thoughtful. Finally, he leans forward, chin resting on his palm.
âYou donât give yourself enough credit. You really think youâre behind me?â
âWell, arenât I?â
He snorts softly, but thereâs no bite to it. âYouâre the one who wrote the outline to this report. Youâre the one reading through and correcting everything. Half of this project looks as good as it does because of you.â
Your stomach flips. âYouâre exaggeratingââ
âIâm not.â His tone sharpens just enough to make you stop fidgeting and look up at him. His mouth is curved as if to soften the words, but his gaze is sincere, coaxing you to take in every one. âLook. Who cares when you started? Youâre here now. And youâre good at it, like ridiculously good. Not because you lucked into it, but because you put in the effort. You work hard because you want this, and it shows. Thatâs more than most people ever figure out, even if theyâve been trying since day one.â
âYou donât know that for sure.â
âDonât I?â
âItâs easy for you to say. Youâve got it all figured out.â
His eyebrows shoot up. âYouâre serious about catching up to me?â
The heat creeps back up your neck, hot flushes spreading across your back. âForget it. Just forget everything.â
âNo, wait, I didnât mean it like that.â He runs a hand through his hair, forcing the surprise back. âI thought you knew the feeling was mutual, that Iâm making sure to catch up to you. If anything, youâve been making me work harder than I ever have. If this is you âtoo late,â then Iâd say youâre exactly where youâre supposed to be.â
Your stomach knots at that, a mix of disbelief and something warmer curling under your ribs. You force your gaze back to the words on your screen, blinking against the sting building at the corners of your eyes.
ââŠYouâre ridiculous,â you murmur, more to your laptop than to him.
Across the screen, his grin slips back into place, lazy and self-assured, but not mocking. âRidiculously right, you mean, since you know I always am.â
You shake your head, biting back the urge to argueâand to smile. This time, the silence stretches comfortably, neither of you rushing to fill it. Your cursor blinks steadily on the half-finished paragraph, but your focus is caught on the strange buoyancy in your chest, the faint echo of his words playing on repeat.
When Gojo finally speaks, itâs in his usual drawl. âSo, am I supposed to fix the discussion section, or are you going to keep having an existential crisis about being secretly smart?â
You let out a shaky laugh, the tension finally breaking. âShut up and start writing, Gojo.â
âYes, maâam,â he says, already clicking away, but the small smile tugging at his mouth lingers longer than his usual jokes.
You pretend not to notice how your chest feels lighter than it did a minute ago.
He lets out a small, embarrassed noise, half sigh and half grunt, as if caught somewhere between annoyance and resignation. You tug him gently towards the door again, though the look in your eyes is nothing if not fierce.
Finally, the steadiness of his stance gives way into a reluctant step and youâre able to pull him inside. The warmth of the cafe hits you immediately, a stark contrast to the brittle cold outside. Your breath stops leaving your lips as mist, the windows already dewy from the lack of ventilation inside, and the air smells like yesterdayâs coffee grounds.
Spiderman hovers awkwardly by the door where youâve abandoned him, rocking on his feet. You pretend not to notice how heâs poised to bolt the moment you turn your back and for that reason, you never do.
âYou can sit, you know,â you say lightly, switching on the espresso machine. âYouâre allowed to touch the furniture.â
âIâm good here,â he mutters.
âWhere did all your spark go, Spiderman?â
He shifts at that, his weight rocking between his feet. âYou make me sound like a rescue dog.â
âYouâre acting like one,â you note with amusement. âYouâre all twitchy and skittish. Should I put out a bowl of water? Or, better yet, you can tell me your order and Iâll get started on that for you.â
He pauses. âIced matcha chai with vanilla cold foam and brown sugar syrup. And a caramel rim. Thatâs the best part.â
Your mouth hangs open, ink bleeding into the side of the cup as you try to process his words. âAre you kidding? Thatâs literally just pure sugar. Are you insane?â
âSomeone has to protect the city, sweetheart.â As if emboldened by your surprise, Spiderman walks up to the counter and leans against it, watching you reluctantly write the shorthand for his order on the cup. âAnd whoever is doing it needs something to keep the sleep away.â
You shoot him a look as you cap the pen and get started. âWhen was the last time you slept?â
âTwo nights ago. For, like, four hours.â
âYou know, you should be sleeping seven to eight hours every night otherwise your brain isnât able to clear proteins. When those accumulate they turn into the amyloid plaques and tau tangles they talk about in neurodegenerative disease.â
âOh my God,â he groans, waving your clinical concern away. âDoes this cafe only hire worrywarts? Shoko never shuts up about that.â
You look up sharply. âSo you do know her.â
His hands come up in a placating gesture. âI thought you already came to that conclusion.â
âNo, because you dodged it. How the fuck do you know Shoko? And why the hell has she never told me?â You let out a thoughtful hum as you create his disgusting drink. âMaybe she was embarrassed to know you.â
His hands come down slightly as if baffled. âI saved your life and the only thing leaving your mouth is criticism. The public loves the suit, Iâve gotten no complaints until now.â
You narrow your eyes as you reach for the syrup bottle. âSo you are dodging.â
The opening shift quickly becomes the bane of your existence. The grumpy customers clicking in for their own early mornings, the rush of orders that arrives before youâve even fully woken, the relentless beep of the espresso machineâit all feels like a punishment for having the audacity to leave your warm bed before the sun has even risen. And yet, despite the predictable chaos and your own bleary-eyed resentment, you canât stop the small smile that tugs at your lips as you hop off the bus.
The front of the cafe is quiet when you step up and shove the keys in, though you know that calm wonât last long. A sudden movement behind you makes your stomach tighten, and a voice murmurs close to your ear.
âI thought the cafe opens at six.â
You turn to see Spiderman hanging upside down, both hands holding onto his web, feet pressed together to keep balance.
âIt does,â you say in lieu of greeting.
âReally? So why did you only get here at 6:13am?â
You roll your eyes and turn back around to let you both in. The masked vigilante lets go of his web and smoothly drops down, sauntering in behind and catching the door when you let go.
âI could report you for tardiness, you know. And being mean to your customers.â
âI didnât know you were a snitch,â you tease back.
âWhat can I say? I care about the universityâs upkeep,â he says as he leans against the counter to watch you start up the shop.
Ignoring his gaze on your back, you begin to multitask, one hand grabbing a cup to get started on his drink while the other flicks on switches. The whir of grinders hum to life, filling the space between you.
âAnother deathly sweet drink for you Iâm assuming?â
âSomeone has to keep this city up and running.â
Thereâs a brief silence as the espresso machine whirs and you do your job. You recall the first few times this unexpected customer had dropped by, the tension between the two of you neither friends nor strangers, and how his face had seemingly dropped when you slid his drink across the counter the moment he walked in.
âOh,â Spiderman had started, the whites of his mask flicking from you to the cup. âYou already made this for me?â
âYeah. Unless youâre planning to grab something new today.â
His fingers had curled around the cup, mumbling something that sounded like, âNo, thatâs fine. This is fine.â
He had hesitated by the counter until you urged him to pay. He did, albeit slowly, and when he even stalled after the money had passed into your hands, you giggled.
âIâm not going to kick you out just because you have your drink now. You can stay. I like talking to you when I open.â
His face had immediately brightened, or at least you assume so from the way his head shot up and the grip on his cup tightened almost imperceptibly.
Since then, Spiderman has taken it upon himself to stay throughout the duration of making his drink, and thirty minutes after that too.
âYou know,â he muses now, conversational and casual. âI feel like you know more about me than I know about you. You know how I like my drinks, my work, my name. Which is terrible because Iâm the one with the secret hidden identity.â
You roll your eyes, lifting the steamer to pour into a cup with his superhero name on it, something he had insisted you do when you once poured his drink into an empty, unmarked cup, saying the true cafe experience included a named cup. So, in order to give him said full experience, you spell his name wrong every time. Today, itâs âSpy x Dermanâ.
âYou also know where I work,â you say, topping his disgusting drink with cream and another drizzle of sweet sticky syrup. âAnd my name. But honestly, itâs your fault for being so naive and open.â
âIâm trying to say I want to know more about you.â
âAnd Iâm trying to tastefully deflect the conversation elsewhere.â
He chuckles. âWhat harm is there if you tell me something? It doesnât have to be anything crazy. This isnât a first date.â
âHey, thatâs my line.â You stick a paper straw into the lid and slide his drink over the counter. He catches it with ease, not breaking eye contact to take a sip.
âFine, Iâll bite. What do you want to know?
He shrugs, looking around the place. âSurprise me. I wouldnât even know where to start.
âWell, first of all, Iâm a normal person. Which means my coffee order isnât diabetes in a cup.
âTell me your order, then.â
Youâre surprised to see him so interested in something so mundane and useless. âI guess I usually get a vanilla soy latte. Oh, but if they have matcha or something, Iâd get that instead.â
He hums. âPersonally, I usually get an iced matcha chai with vanilla cold foam and brown sugar syrup with a caramel rim.â
You laugh, wiping up the counter after yourself as youâve been trained to do. âI never asked, and yes, Spiderman, I know. Trust me, it hurts my pure barista hands to make your drink every time.â
He chuckles softly with you, eyeing you, toying with the paper straw in his mouth. You know that in about ten minutes, if he stays that long, heâll start complaining about how the paper has already begun to deteriorate in his mouth, and you will be his unwilling recipient for the venting. When he opens his mouth to speak next, you brace yourself for an onslaught of surprisingly childish whining.âSo, any plans this week?â he asks, leaning over the counter. You wonder if it would be a workplace hazard to invite him to the other side.
You catch onto his words after a few blinks. âNot really? I guess I have an assessment due next week so Iâll be grinding for that.â You pause, assuming the silence that follows after is because heâs waiting for more. âYou?â
âThe usual. Saving cats from trees, escorting senior citizens across pedestrian crossing, the typical.â
âDoes that actually happen? Cats getting stuck in trees?â
He shrugs. âNot really. If anything, itâs usually street poles they find themselves in. Anyway, so youâre otherwise free this week? Say, super random day that means absolutely nothingâTuesday?â
You pause, taking in his faux innocence. He even makes a show of looking at his nails as if he could see them through the fabric of his white gloves. âI mean, I guess I am, for the most part. Why?â
He straightens a little, looking over at the dessert display. âNo reason.â
You narrow your eyes at him, a little wary. âAre you sure? I feel like you wouldnât ask that question unless there was something going on.â
âNo, Iâm just wondering what the average citizenâs schedule looks like.â
âOh, really?â You clean off the steamer with an unimpressed look. âVerdict?â
âBoring!â He stretches out the word, loud in the acoustics of the near empty cafe. âDo you even know how to have fun?â
You scoff, wiping your hands on a nearby towel before leaning against the counter to talk to him. Somewhere along the way, the distance between the two of you has shrunk and you find yourself gravitating towards him. He stays on the other side, lifting up his mask as he usually does to take a sip.
âItâs not my fault the exam period is coming up,â you say, trying to subtly memorise the bottom of his face without seeming weird. âAnd I definitely do know how to have fun.
âRight, sure you do. What do you do for fun, then?â
You bite the inside of your cheeks. âYou first.â
âNeed time to think?â
âThis is so unfair, you can literally fly! Obviously what I do for fun isnât going to be as fun as leaping through the air and shooting webs from your wrists!â
âNot with that attitude you wonât. But come on, humour me a little. Tell me what you usually do in your free time.â
âAre we on a bad first date right now? Whatâs happening?â
âDeflect all you want but Iâm immune to it by now. Come on, just tell me,â he coaxes you with a grin, straw between his teeth. âDo you, again super random and means nothing at all, go to anime related events?â
You narrow your eyes at him slightly. âI guess I do.â
âOkay.â He looks around as if inspecting the interior design. âHave you heard about that thing thatâs happening at the main city library?â
You, in fact, have. âSure. I saw the post on their Insta.â
âWas that something you wanted to check out?â
âWith⊠you?â
Spiderman laughs like youâve said something particularly funny. âYouâre joking right? Obviously not with me. Spiderman doesnât do outings, sweets.â
âForgive me for assuming that when you literally asked me when I would be free mere minutes ago.â
âI told you, Iâm just curious about what normal people get up to.â
You eye him, noting how relaxed he now seems and how thereâs a silence that drags out after his last words. âWere there any more questions you wanted to ask, or just the one about when Iâm free and if I wanted to check out the shounen showcase at the library?â
âNo, that was it.â
You nod, slowly. âRight.â
The quiet stretches, just the hiss of the espresso machine and the soft drumming of his fingers against the counter as he muses over your previous words. You roll your eyes and straighten, turning to fiddle around and move forward with the transition of shooing him away.
Just as youâre about to tell him to go do his job or something, the doorbell chimes and you look up instinctively like an activated sleeper agent, plastering a smile on your face to greet the customer. It hasnât been long since you started morning shifts but it was rare for anyone to show up within the ten minutes you open.
You spare Spiderman a glance as if to tell him to leave, but heâs not looking at you.
A man stumbles in, unsteady on his feet, eyes darting around like thereâs someone watching him from the corners. At first, you assume heâs simply clumsy or perhaps nursing a killer hangover so you steel yourself for a tricky conversation.
âGood morning, what can I get started for you today?â you start, looking him up and down subtly to see if heâs a member of the university staff or a stranger who has somehow wandered onto campus.
The man slams his hand down on the counter and you jump, heart skipping. Up close, you can make out the sweat beading on his pale forehead and the way his lips move like heâs saying something, though no sound leaves his dry lips.
You try again. âSir?â
âCoffee,â he rasps.
You force another polite smile because of course you want a coffee from a cafe, donât waste my time, and reach for a cup. âOf course. Would that be a cappuccino or latte or something else?â
Instead of answering you, his head jerks to the side as if hearing a conversation you canât. In doing so, his eyes meet Spidermanâs and they widen almost comically, his body jerking away.
Spiderman stiffens, shoulders tensing as he shoots the customer an incredulous look. âWoah, chill. Itâs just me.â
The man staggers back another step, chest heaving, breath rattling like something is crawling up his throat.
You frown. âSir, youâre looking a little pale. Maybe you should sit down andââ
His head snaps toward you so sharply you swear you hear the crack of his vertebrae. His eyes, wild and bloodshot, fix onto you with a sudden intensity that makes you pause. His lips peel back from his teeth into a nasty snarl, and you realise with a cold shiver that he is talking to himself. You quickly correct yourself. He wasnât talking to himself, but to something else.
The manâs head jerks to the side again, harder this time. âWonât stop⊠wonât stop talkingâŠâ
You swallow. âI mean, itâs kind of my job to ask you.â
His answer comes out distorted, two voices overlapping. âWe said leave him alone!â
His hand suddenly shoots out, slamming into the counter so hard the marble cracks. A slick, black sheen ripples up his arm, coating his fingers like tar before forming claws.
His hand suddenly shoots out, slamming into the counter so hard the marble cracks. A slick, black sheen ripples up his arm, coating his fingers like tar before forming claws.
You stumble back, dropping the cup in your hands and making a sharp noise that has the man turning to you, eyes pitch-black.
âUm, Spiderman?â you whisper, hands clutching the side of the counter as you back away from the man. âWant to do your job orâŠ?â
Before you can even process whatâs happening, the man lunges across the counter at you, knocking over your carefully stacked paper cups. You make an embarrassing sound, half-surprise, half-protest as you instinctively attempt to back away though itâs not enough considering the feral determination the man has in reaching you.
In a blur, Spiderman leaps and lands on his hands and feet on the ceiling, flinging his arm toward you to latch a web around your torso. He yanks you to him, the world tilting for a fraction of a second as the web wraps around your arms and pins them to your side. The momentum spins you round and round until you finally settle, slowly rotating.
Blood rushes to your head and a nearby crash makes you jolt, eyes widening to pinpoint the danger.
Turns out, Spiderman has wrapped you in a cocoon of web and left to dangle like a pinata from the ceiling.
âHey!â you protest, struggling against the web. The movement only causes you to spin around and you hastily jerk your body to the side to watch the scene. âLet me down!â
Spiderman drops to the floor, one hand splayed across the ground, the other tense and alert in the air. He momentarily breaks his focus to give you a double take. âWhat theâIâm keeping you safe. Stop wiggling!â
You can hear it then, the sound the manâs making. Not quite a growl, at least not a human one, but a low, guttural rasp that vibrates through his chest. Panic and fear only grow within you, and you struggle with a little more determination to get down and run for the hills, when the man emerges from behind the counter.
He lunges again, this time faster, propelled by a strength that is definitely not human. Black tendrils burst from his back, flinging chairs aside like toys. Spiderman dodges easily, flipping over a table and ducking behind it, firing a web that snaps against the manâs shoulder.
It doesnât hold.
The black substance simply absorbs it, melting it away like cotton candy in a river.
âOkay,â Spiderman mutters, kicking the table into the man too and watching as he easily smacks it away. âThatâs new.â
The creature lets out a distorted laugh. âSpiderman,â it sneers.
âThatâs me. Have we met before?â
Spiderman doesnât wait for an answer, slinging a web at the manâs wrist and yanking him hard into the counter. The espresso machine crumbles under the intense weight and puffs out a powerful blast of steam as it malfunctions. The figure avoids the steam with a sharp hiss, black tendrils catching from the bulk of the fall and throwing himself back up, grabbing onto the mini fridge display and hurling it back at the superhero.
You gasp when you rotate to face the chaos. âYouâre wrecking my cafe!â
âSeriously? Thatâs what youâre focusing on right now?â Spiderman shoots back, ducking. âFile an insurance claim or something!â
He swings a chair into the side of the figure and you watch mournfully.
âMy chairsâŠâ
âAgain, there might be bigger things to worry about!â
A giant fist surges forward from the black gunk oozing down his chest and knocks Spiderman back.
The superhero lets out a punched-out gasp, slamming into the wall of the cafe and knocking down some purely-for-interior-design-aesthetic fake coffee bean bags. Spiderman tries to sling himself onto the arm and swing around, but the substance only consumes the webbing, swallowing it before it can take hold.
âSpiderman!âÂ
You twist uselessly in your cocoon, the web binding your arms tight to your sides. Your brain scrambles for something, anything that could possibly help. Your eyes lock onto the man as its gooey limbs swell and stretch, pulsing with inhuman strength. Another fist forms, held back in the air as if winding up, clearly aimed at the gasping Spiderman on the cafe floor.
âIs this another tactic of yours? I think you fight better on both feet!â
Spiderman spits blood through the cuts of his mask.
âYeah,â he wheezes, âThatâs the plan.â
The fist hands there for one awful second, huge and glistening and very much about to redecorate the floor with Spidermanâs internal organs.
Your gaze snaps wildly around the cafe, desperate for anything useful beyond the humiliating fact that you are currently trussed up. You make a mental note of everything, the counter, syrup bottles, cups, broken glass, ruined pastries, the espresso machine wheezing its last breath in the corner, split open and spitting angry jets of steam every few seconds.
âSpiderman!â you blurt.
Spiderman, still flat on his back and one near-death experience away from becoming part of the floor plan, tilts his head weakly. âCan this wait? Iâm in the middle of something.â
âThe espresso machine!â
âWhat about it? Do you want a latte before I die?â
âThe steam, you idiot!â
The creature finally slams its fist down, cracking the granite flooring and thankfully not squishing a spider. The superhero rolls onto his side with a pained hiss, flicking his wrist to wrap web around the nuzzle of the steamer.
âOkay,â he starts. âAnd how do I use this exactly?â
The man quickly regains its bearings and starts for Spiderman again as the superhero uselessly fiddles with the steam wand. You jerk in your cocoon.
âThe knob! Turn the silver knob on the side!â
Spiderman slaps the wrong thing and a burst of frothy milk sprays across the counter and onto the floor. âIs that it?â
âThe other one!â
He twists the correct knob just as the creature lunges. The machine screams as it blasts a vicious plume of steam straight forward. You watch as he yanks the steamer around at the last second, aiming it right into the thingâs chest and face.
The black mass recoils with a horrible, scraping cry that makes you wince, and begins to peel back from the manâs skin in a movement not unfamiliar to you. The tendrils make one last feral swish, slamming into shelves and sending coffee beans, ceramic mugs, and one very expensive grinder crashing to the ground.
you: hey!! so ik ure oh so busy
but i think we should meet up to rehearse our speech before we present
r u free 12pm today?
toru: woahhh u texted first ?!
you: and probably meet at the library
oh what the hell u replied so fast
toru: maybe i was waiting for ur text all day
you: wait why did i grimace
anyway are u down?
toru: sure iâll try!
meet u at our usual table ><
You climb the stairs up to the library, chuckling softly at the memory of Gojoâs texts. Surprisingly, Gojo is already sitting in his seat when you arrive. He pauses his typing and pulls down one side of his headphones, looking over his shoulder at you. His eyes light up and you offer him a small wave, watching as he responds enthusiastically.
âYou didnât stand me up.â
You chuckle drily, pulling out your seat beside him and sitting down. âWhat is this, some bad first date?â
Gojo grins like youâve said something particularly funny. âIs that your go-to line or something?â
âWhat?â
âOh, uh. Nothing.â He looks away, swiping his finger across the trackpad.
When he doesnât say anything else, you take it as your cue to take out your things, still eyeing him. âDidnât bring your mouse today?â
âYou remembered?â
You make a face at his sudden hopeful expression. âYouâre being weird.â
He slumps back into his chair. âYeah, I gave myself the ick. Iâm just nervous.â
âAbout?â
He hums, looking away at the rest of the library. âStuff.â
You let that sit for a moment, then try to steer things back toward the reason youâre both here. For a while, you make a decent attempt at studying. You open your laptop, pull up your notes, ask him a question about the assessment that he answers after a beat too long. But it quickly becomes obvious that whatever is making him weird hasnât gone away. He keeps glancing down at his notes only to stare straight through them, then out the window, then back at his laptop. Every few seconds he finds a new way to fidget: tapping his pen, rubbing the back of his neck, shifting in his chair, bouncing his leg under the table.
By the time he starts clicking his pen open and shut, you give up pretending not to notice. You lean back slightly and raise an eyebrow at him. âSomething else youâd rather be doing?â
He stills at once, like heâs been caught. âMaybe,â he admits after a second. âKind of.â
You narrow your eyes. âKind of?â
Gojo huffs out a breath and glances at you, then away again. âOkay, donât laugh, but thereâs this shounen manga pop-up showcase at the central library right now. And I thoughtâsince weâve talked about Digimon and all that stuffâmaybe youâd want to go check it out with me.â
âBadges can be cool,â you try, tracing the edge of one.
âThere are only badges of all the mainstream anime,â he mumbles, coming up to stand beside you. Due to the tiny display, youâre shoulder to shoulder, your arm brushing his. âGod, this fucking sucks. My bad, Y/N. I was hoping we could look at all the manga together, but all I managed to do was waste your time. We can just go back to the library and continue studying.â
You frown at his dejected tone, and when you look over, heâs pouting.
His shoulders are slumped, his hands absentmindedly fidgeting with a badge, spinning it back and forth with no real interest, and his lips are jutted out in an almost cartoonish pout. When his eyes shift at your attention, you quickly look away and hope he didnât catch the slight quiver of your lips.
Then, before you can think better of it, you grab a badge off the display and pin it to his chest. When he starts to look down, you lift his chin with your finger instead.
He blinks at you, owlish, and you canât help but smile at the clueless look in his eyes.
âAsk me a yes-or-no question,â you say. âTo try and guess what characterâs badge I just pinned on you. Câmon, I bet you wonât get it.â
For a moment, you think your forced enthusiasm has put him off and that he wonât play along. But then he suddenly scoffs, his lips tugging up. âAre they a girl?â
âNo.â Itâs contagious and you find yourself smiling back.
He purses his lips, and you recognise the signature glint in his eyes when heâs concentrating. He hums, thinking a little more seriously. âIs the series heâs from released before 2020?â
âYes.â
âIs he part of a trio?â
âSeriously? Weâre talking about shounen right now. Almost every shounen series has a trio.â You giggle. âBut no, he isnât.â
He rolls his eyes. âIs the character the main character of the series?â
âNo, but Iâd say a lot more people like this character over the actual main character.â
âIs he from a sports anime?â
âNo.â
âCould he be in a sports anime?â
That catches you off guard and you scrunch your face up in thought. âI honestly canât imagine him doing any sport. He might be a perma-benched player thatâs only there for strategy.â
âIs he, like, a mentor character?â
You pout a little at how on-the-nose his question is. âYes.â
âDoes he have powers?â
âYes.â
He clicks his fingers. âAh. Does he have a signature weapon?â
âWell, he uses a gun often, but his powers arenât related to his weapon of choice.â
âSo his powers arenât offensive?â
âExactly.â
He hums, a smile growing on his face. âIs the manga based in the modern era?â
âYes.â
âIs he dead?â
âNo, but there was a moment when everyone was freaking out because it almost seemed like he was dead.â
âBrown hair?â
âYes.â
Gojo clicks his fingers in realisation. âOkay, Iâve got it. Is it Dazai?â He might as well have shouted eureka. His face brightens, hanging on your next words to confirm or deny his victory.
You giggle, nodding, and the smile he gives you is full of childlike wonder.
âClose your eyes. Itâs your turn.â
You do so. âI bet I can guess it with fewer questions than you.â
He snorts. âYouâre on.â
A few customers shoot you dirty looks when they walk past, clearly not appreciating your giggles as you and Gojo take turns playing your own chopped version of celebrity heads. Time seems to pass quickly over laughter and jokes until you finally reach up to unpin the latest badge to place it back. He stops you, hands covering yours.
âLet me buy that for you,â he says with a lingering smile.
You raise an eyebrow but let him take it off your hands. âWho said I even want this?â
âCome on, itâll be like weâre matching.â
âTheyâre not even from the same series.â
âNot to anyone else,â he muses, thumb stroking the front of the badge like itâs something precious. âBut we'll know theyâre connected and thatâs good enough to call them matching.â
You turn away, suddenly far too aware of the warmth rising to your face. Clearing your throat, you gesture toward the manga shelves down the aisle. âLetâs go see what else theyâve got. Sure, we came for the pop-up, but weâre still in a library.â
He follows after you, noticeably lighter on his feet than before, and you let out a small sigh of relief. Then, almost immediately, you berate yourself for the tiny flutter in your chest. Why does that even matter? you scold yourself, brushing the feeling aside.
Before you can dwell on it for too long, he pinches your sleeve and tugs you gently toward him when your pace slows.
âHave you read this?â
âNot yet,â you admit, though a small smile creeps onto your face at the sight of his enthusiasm.
Without missing a beat, he launches into an animated explanation of the series, waving his hands as he talks. Sometimes it feels like heâs speaking more with his fingers than with actual words, sketching out invisible diagrams in the air as he links characters and plot points together. His sentences tumble over each other as he rambles about character motivations, why one of them is a complete fraud, and why the plot veers dangerously close to deus ex machina territory, only cutting himself off with an apologetic smile right before he spoils something major.
âAnd I swear the author gave up halfway through the series. The manga finished in 2023, by the way, but I think by the end heâd already landed a deal for a spin-off and started putting all his effort into that instead. You know what I saw on Twitter recently? People were hyping up this one line like it was amazing foreshadowing, but itâs not even good foreshadowing because, come on, the final fight was so cheap. Like whenââ He stops himself abruptly. âOh, wait. You canât know that yet.â
You nod along, trying to keep up with the flood of names, locations, and arc points that mean absolutely nothing to you, but the sheer energy in his voice is contagious. Somehow, itâs impossible to be annoyed or bored when heâs like this, completely in his element.
Eventually, you stop trying to follow every detail. Instead, your attention drifts to him. The way his hair keeps falling into his eyes, forcing him to run a hand through his bangs only for them to slip right back into place seconds later. The way his brows knit together when he rants, only to lift again the moment he gets to a part he genuinely loves. Despite the noise of the busy library, his voice rises above everything else, clear and captivating, demanding your attention without even trying.
Itâs almost impressive how quickly his mouth keeps up with his thoughts. You squint slightly, watching the shape of his lips around each word just to confirm that yes, it really is him speaking that fast and not some video playing in the background.
You realise a second too late that heâs stopped talking.
You blink and look up at him.
His brows are furrowed, though not in the same way as before, and you hate that you now know the difference. âUh, you still with me?â
You blink a few more times, then shake your head slightly as if to clear the haze. âYeah. Yeah, Iâm here.â
Gojo tilts his head, clearly amused. âReally? Because you look a little dazed.â
Heat rushes to your face and you quickly drop your gaze to the manga in his hands, as if that had always been the focus of your attention. âYeah, of course I was listening. Something about deus ex machina, right?â
He snorts softly. âI finished talking about the ending minutes ago. You donât have to pretend if you werenât paying attention.â
You roll your eyes, hoping your embarrassment isnât as obvious as it feels. âFine. Maybe I got a little distracted.â
His grin widens at that, though it softens around the edges as he steps a little closer. âDistracted, huh? By what?â
You hesitate, heart doing something strange at the way heâs looking at you. âNothing.â
âReally?â
âReally,â you shoot back.
âAlright then,â he concedes, though the glint in his eyes never fades. âI guess Iâll just have to step up my explanations next time so you donât get distracted again.â
He slides the manga carefully back onto the shelf, nudging the surrounding volumes aside to make room and making sure none of the pages bend as he slots it into place. There has to be something wrong with you, because even that small gesture makes warmth bloom in your chest. You make a mental note to check the series out when you get home.
Gojo turns back to you and gestures for you to lead the way. âYour turn.â
He listens as you tell him about one of your favourite manga series, and the embarrassment of getting caught fades quickly as you explain exactly why itâs a masterpiece. When itâs his turn again, you make a conscious effort to pay attention and not drift off into another daydream. So when he asks if you were actually listening this time, you huff and answer every one of his questions with ease.
He grins at you like youâve handed him the world.
Eventually, the two of you leave the library with less merch than youâd expected walking in, but with two badges that mean more than youâd ever dare admit. He doesnât fasten his onto the front of his bag with the rest of his pins and accessories, mumbling something about wanting to keep it safe, so you keep yours in your pocket instead, your thumb brushing over its smooth surface as you walk.
You expect him to call it a day after that, maybe peel off with some excuse about having things to do, but instead he tugs lightly on your sleeve.
âCâmon.â
âWhere?â
âCafe run. My treat.â
You raise a brow. âSince when do you buy me coffee?â
âSince you saved this disaster of a day,â he says matter-of-factly, already steering you toward the street with a hand at your shoulder. âBesides, itâd be cruel not to feed you after I made you listen to my manga rants for hours.â
You snort, but you donât fight him on it. The truth is, coffee does sound nice, even if you remain slightly mystified by the idea of going with Gojo of all people. You frown a little when the thought doesnât leave you disgusted.
Youâre still mulling over the drink options when Gojo steps up to the counter to order.
âCan I get an iced matcha latteââ He cuts himself off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. âJust an iced matcha latte, thanks. Oh, and a vanilla soy latte.â
You eye him as he thanks the cashier, pays, and nods toward the waiting area. Seeing no reason not to follow, you move to stand beside him again.
âAre you drinking two drinks?â
âStupid.â He pokes your forehead in a way that, annoyingly, you canât bring yourself to hate. âOne of them is for you.â
âThe⊠vanilla latte?â
âYeah.âYou dip your head, trying to catch his eye. âWhy arenât you looking at me all of a sudden?â
He shrugs, suddenly fascinated by the blank wall behind the counter. âI have no idea what youâre talking about.â
You study him for a second before letting out a small laugh. âWell, you got lucky. Thatâs kind of my go-to order. How did you know?â
âI guess you just look like youâd want something like that.â
You stare at him. âOh yeah? I just have the look of someone who likes vanilla lattes?â
He only hums in response.
You frown a little as you take him in properly: the way he rocks back and forth on his feet, hands tucked into his pockets, trying very hard to look unaffected. All he needs is a whistle to sell the act. Thankfully, one of the cashiers calls out his number, and he eagerly slips away to collect the drinks.
âHm?â You look up at him, wondering if the slight flush at the tips of his ears has anything to do with the late afternoon sun.
âEveryone calls me Satoru but you,â he says, still not looking at you. âYou might as well just call me Satoru too. Itâs weird if you donât.â
It takes a few seconds for the words to fully sink in. By then, he only seems to shrink further into himself, taking long, noisy pulls from his straw. By the time you recover enough to smirk, his cup is almost entirely ice.
You lean in slightly, trying to catch his eye. âWhat a cheesy thing to say. Donât tell me youâreââ
The rest dies on your tongue when he finally glances down at you. The same pink tint at his ears has spread across his cheeks.
He frowns despite it, brows drawing together. âForget it. I knew you wouldnât take me seriously.â He pulls the straw from his mouth and shakes the cup for more drink, only for the ice to rattle uselessly. With visible annoyance, he takes the shot and tosses the empty cup into the bin. âSorry for dragging you all the way out here today. Your bus is probably coming soon, so Iâll head offââ
You gape at him. âWait!â
He freezes and turns back slightly. âGoing to tease me? Save it for tomorrow.â
âNo,â you say quickly. âI was just surprised you wanted me to call you by your first name. I thought you hated me.â
âMe?â he scoffs, turning around fully now. âYou have to be joking.â
âIâm serious,â you insist. âYou were awful to me. I mean, you literally went out of your way to embarrass me when we barely knew each other.â
He runs a hand through his hair and exhales. âYeah, I know. I was⊠bad at that. I never hated you, Y/N. I just didnât know what to do with you.â
âThe moment you start making sense, the world is going to end. Iâm sure of it.â
He laughs quietly, then looks at you again. âIâm trying to say that when you showed up and started showing me up, beating me and everything, I got a little intimidated. And maybe you were right all along, but I wanted you to notice me the way Iâd started noticing you. So yeah, maybe I did start tugging on your pigtails just to get your attention. You were just soââ He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. âNever mind.â
âHold on,â you say, stepping closer. âYou canât do that. Finish it.â
âSorry. Free trialâs over. If you want me to keep going, thatâll be 200 diamondsââ
âSatoru.â
He closes his mouth immediately, eyes widening a fraction before he sighs. âDamn. I shouldâve never asked you to say that.â
You tilt your head, catching his gaze. âPlease?â
Something strained flashes across his face, like the word is lodged somewhere painful in his chest. âYou were just soâŠâ He exhales through his nose, defeated. âSo bright that it was annoying. I couldnât ignore you, even if I tried. Every time you laughed, my head would already be turning, and I hated it because you werenât smiling at me.â
You laugh awkwardly. âWe werenât exactly friends.â
âNo,â he says softly. âThat was the issue. But even then, I wouldnât have been satisfied.â
For a moment, neither of you says anything. The confession settles between you, large and impossible to ignore. Youâve given up trying to look at him because thereâs a strange tightness in your chest making it hard to breathe, and Satoru looks like heâs doing everything in his power not to bolt.
âDoes that bother you?â he asks.
Unable to speak, you shake your head.
âOkay.â He exhales slowly. âThen can I try something?â
You look up just as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand hovers there for a moment, giving you an out.
You donât take it. Mostly because your feet feel rooted to the pavement beneath you.
âSatoru,â you whisper, and he seems to find whatever answer he was searching for in your eyes.
He leans in slowly, like heâs afraid the moment might shatter if he moves too quickly. Your breath mingles. He hesitates, and you give him the smallest encouragement by leaning in too. Your noses brush with a ticklish little bump, and the whole world narrows to the space between your mouthsâ
Then a sharp buzz cuts through the quiet.
It doesnât register properly in your mind at first. You only know it sounds ugly against the stillness. But Satoru knows immediately.
He freezes. So do you.bThen comes the second vibration.
His shoulders sag. His forehead drops forward and bumps lightly into yours.
âYouâve got to be kidding me,â he mutters.
âEverything okay?â you ask, though you already know the answer.
He pulls back just enough to take his phone out and glance at the screen. Whatever he sees drains all the softness from his face, replacing it with that familiar unreadable tension.
âYeah,â he says, forcing a crooked smile. âI, uh, have to go. Family emergency. Again.â
You smile back. âI hope everyoneâs okay.â
âRight. Yeah.â
âYou should probably go.â
âRight.â
He lingers for another beat, phone held uselessly in his hand, before clearing his throat and stepping back. âIâll call you tonight?â
âYeah. Tonight.â
âCool,â he says. âCool, cool, cool, cool. Get home safe, yeah?â
âYeah.â You keep smiling even as he starts to walk away. âThanks for today.â
You watch him go for far longer than you should, long enough that his figure starts to blur into the movement of the street beyond the bus stop. Only when he disappears properly do you let your smile falter, your hand tightening slightly around the paper cup.
It hits you then, all at once and without mercy, how badly you are in trouble. You stare down at your coffee like it might offer guidance and find none.
Oh, you are so doomed.
Spidermanâs muscle strain against the cold sticky goo binding his wrists behind his back, the sharp bite of them digging into his skin as he knelt on the rough warehouse floor. His suit clings to him like a second skin, torn across his chest and down his thigh from the brutal fight. Thereâs a gash above his eyebrow thatâs dripping blood into his eyes, but for some reason his vision is clear.
The amazing Spiderman makes it his purpose to never stay down for long. This time, however, he wonders if he even wants to get back up.
Venom looms over him with a maw of jagged teeth and eyes like void fixed down on him with predatory amusement. âSpiderman down on his knees. What a sight.â
Gojo smirks under his mask even as his knees ache and cold air brushes the exposed skin around his mouth.
âI hate to break it to you but Iâm not into oversized ink blots,â he spits. âAnd donât get so cocky too soon. Havenât you played Darkest Dungeon? Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer.â
âThereâs always a response rearing to go from that tongue of yours, isnât there?â Venom hisses. âAlways so self-assured, always so prepared. I wonder how long that peace you know will last.â
âIf I wanted my fortune read I would have gone to a tarot card reader.â
Venom laughs and the sound is suddenly so achingly familiar that Gojo freezes, something primal overturning into his stomach telling him to run. But thereâs nowhere to run, not when his wrists are tied behind his back, not when heâs kneeled at the feet of his archnemesis, and especially not when the tendrils of the villain slowly pull back to reveal a humanoid form Satoru knows far too well.
The black mass ebbs back from Venomâs face, appendages retracting with a wet slurp, revealingâ
Her. You.
The girl from the 5th floor of the campus library that he kept seeing that one finals season a whole year ago, the one he once told Geto about until he saw you again with his childhood friend and decided you were firmly off-limits. The same girl he suddenly couldnât miss in the crowd when 5pm hits and the tired students pour out seeking night outs or cozy night ins, the same girl who when he finally had a class with, had quickly cut him down with a glare that sent a jolt right through his body. The face he thinks about when heâs alone in the dark of his room, one hand down his pants and the other holding his phone.
Your pretty lips now curl into a smirk as your piercing eyes that he just loves to pretend to hate, locks onto his, full of mocking triumph. The symbiote suit hugs your curves like liquid, accentuating every sway of your hips as you step even closer.
Wait, what the fuck?
Gojo opens his mouth to say something but his breath hitches and the quip dies on his tongue.
âWhat theâY/N? What are youââ He cuts himself off when you laugh, soft and familiar, a sound far too beautiful for a grungy place like this.
âWhatâs wrong, Spidey?â you purr, voice lilting with mock innocence. âYou look like youâve seen a ghost. Or maybeââ
Heâs almost certain he stops breathing altogether as you roughly tilt his chin up with one long tendril, staring at your face because thereâs nothing else to do.
âYou see something you like?â
He splutters. âThis is bullshit. Youâre not Venom, you canât be. This has to be some kind of symbiote mind-fuck trick.â
âWhatâs wrong? Youâve lost your composure all of a sudden.â
Gojo growls, a feral sound dragging up his throat. âDonât fucking look into my mind. Stop looking like her!â
You coo, lips pretty and downturned. âStop? How can I? Spiderman, I am her.â
Your words make him shudder and you press on.
âAh, so itâs about that, is it? Poor, little Spiderman, torn in so many little directions. You canât decide whether to be Satoru or this silly attempt at being a superhero.â
He flinches when his name slips from your lips, remembering how soft it had sounded when you first said it, cheeks pink and eyes fluttering down. Seeing you standing over him now, eyes harsh and unforgiving, he feels a stirring in his gut that only pushes him closer to the edge.
âNo snarky response this time?â
âYou canât be her.â
âWhy not? I could be anyone.â You lift a foot and press it against his thigh, pushing it outwards casually. âWhy donât we be truthful for once, hm? And stop hiding behind all these secrets? Itâs not that I canât be her, itâs that you donât want me to be. Youâve always vented to Suguru about how nice it would be to have it both but this is the one thing you donât want to share with Spiderman. Me. And yet, you go against yourself and seek me out as both. Why?â
Gojo grits his teeth. âI donât have to explain anything to you. You know nothing about me.â
âOh, but I promise you I donât miss much.â Your foot trails higher, nudging now against his inner thigh and despite the situation, he flinches, that unfamiliar feeling spilling into something scarily recognisable.
âHold onââ
âLooks like youâre still not being completely truthful, Satoru,â you purr and he hisses.
Your foot presses against the bulge straining his suit, the pressure firm and deliberate. Gojoâs hips jerk involuntarily, a sharp exhale escaping him as you drag your sole along his length.
âGet off me,â he growls, but it sounds more like a plea, his voice husky and ragged.
He tries to shift away, wrists twisting futilely in the bindings, but his body betrays him and he leans into the friction instead. Your boot works him slowly, the leather cool against the heat building under his suit.
âMake me,â you taunt, eyes gleaming with wicked amusement.
You donât let up, your foot dragging slowly now, tracing the outline of his cock with teasing precision and his hips respond but bucking up involuntarily, pleasure sparking hot and fierce. He clamps his jaw, trying to stifle the sound, but it rumbles out anyway.
âThisâŠâ His eyes flutter as you press down particularly hard, forcing a smirk even as his breaths come out ragged. âThis is your master plan? Youâre more of aânghâpervert than I thought.â
You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with amusement. âMaster plan? Do I need a reason to do any of this? Maybe Iâve finally decided to do something about all that eye-fucking youâve been giving me in class. Thought I wouldnât notice?â
Your boot grinds down harder, the ridged sole catching on the zipper of his suit, right over where his cock throbs insistently. He bites back a moan but it slips out anyway, loud and guttural, his thighs quivering under the pressure.
His face flushes deeper, those blue eyes narrowing in a mix of defiance and desperation. âYouâre⊠not her. Canât be. She'd neverââ His words cut off as you twist your ankle, dragging the bootâs toe along his balls through the tight fabric, making them tighten and draw up.
âNever what? Touch you like this? Make you beg with just a foot?â You lean in closer, whispering in his ear so soft he almost canât hear over his pounding heartbeat. âAdmit it, web-head. You've jerked off thinking about me pinning you down, havenât you? All those stolen glances in the hallway, pretending you didnât pop a boner every time I called you out.â
Gojoâs breath hitches, his cock leaking pre-cum that soaks through the suit, darkening the material. He shakes his head but itâs weak, his hips rolling up to chase the friction despite himself.
âShut up. Justâhahâfuck off.â The growl lacks bite, cracking into a whine when you lift your foot slightly, denying him the pressure for a torturous second before pressing back down, slower this time, stroking from base to tip with deliberate drags.
You chuckle. âSuch a pretty liar. Look at you, kneeling there, dick pathetically hard. Bet youâve never even been touched like this before, huh? Who knew Spiderman was all talk and no action.â
Your boot circles the head of his cock, smearing the wet spot wider.
He groans, loud and unrestrained now, his head tipping back as pleasure coils tight in his gut. âN-not⊠your business.â
But his bodyâs honest, thighs spreading wider on their own and inviting more. Sweat beads on his forehead, trickling down his temple, and he forces his eyes open to glare at you, trying for a smirk. "If this is your idea of a fight, youâre losing. I couldâŠfuck, I could break out anytime.â
You grin, a tendril slashing his suit to free his cock. it springs free, hard and leaking, tip flushed and begging to be touched. Gojoâs eyes flutter again when you touch him bare, a soft whine escaping despite his efforts. He rolls them back slightly, fighting the wave crashing through him, but his hips roll forward, chasing the pressure.
âAdmit it feels good. Or are you going to keep pretending youâre not leaking over my boot right now?"
He bites his lip hard. âFeels likeâŠfeels like nothing. Barely notice it.â
Total bullshit. Every drag sends sparks up his spine, his cock throbbing insistently, begging for more. He can't even seem to focus on what youâre saying anymore, not when youâre twisting your ankle like so, rubbing his sensitive tip and he canât hold back a throaty moan, his body arching into it.
âNothing? Your dickâs twitching like itâs got a mind of its own.â
âI could break these cuffs anytime,â he mumbles again as if convincing himself as if his hips arenât thrusting up greedily, fucking into the rhythm.
âBreak them then. Or donât. We both know you wonât.â
The friction builds up relentlessly, up, down, the ball of your foot grinding against his mushroom head on every pass, sweat beading under his mask, eyes rolling back fully now as the coil winds tighter, pleasure bordering on overload.
âOh, fuckââ Gojo rasps, voice a wrecked mess of gasps and moans.
âToo much? Gonna cum for me?â
He shakes his head frantically, but the denial crumbles into a choked sob when you drag your heel along the underside, pressing firmly over the vein that throbs with every heartbeat. His cock jumps, tip flaring red, and a spurt of pre-cum leaks out, coating your shoe in glossy trails.
âCome on, pretty boy. You're so close,â you coo.
âNo⊠shit, Iâfuck!â His words fracture as you speed up, pumping his length in firm, unyielding strokes, up to smear over the sensitive ridge, down to crush against his balls, rolling them gently before lifting to repeat.
His balls draw tight, heavy and full, aching for release, and he grinds his teeth in an effort to hold back but the pressure mounts, a white-hot knot twisting in his core.
You curl your fingers in his mask and yank it off, his white hair spilling down to reveal his wrecked expression, eyes rolling back and drool dripping from the corner of his lips. you grin, pure evil and glee before you tug his hair to make him look up at you.
âCome on, Satoru,â you purr. âShow me how much you hate this, how much you need it.â
The command shatters him. His entire body seizes, back arching off the cold floor as the orgasm rips through and his cock erupts in thick, forceful jets that splatter across your boot, your calf, even arcing up to hit his own abdomen. He cries out, voice breaking into a raw, uninhibited moan that echoes off the warehouse walls.
âFuck, yesâoh God, Y/N!â
His hips jerk helplessly as you keep stroking him through it, dragging every last shudder from his body until heâs wrung completely dry. Heâs whimpering by the end of it, oversensitive and trembling, head fallen back against the pillow, chest rising and falling in ragged pants. Cum spills down the front of his suit in sticky, obscene streaks, and still you donât let him hide from it, your hand only slowing once heâs been pushed so far past pleasure it borders on cruelty.
âNot bad for a virgin,â you murmur, voice sweet in that way that makes humiliation burn twice as hot. âBet youâve never made yourself cum that hard, huh? All those lonely nights jerking off to thoughts of me, and this is the best you could do?â
Gojoâs face burns crimson, shame and bliss tangling together until he canât tell one from the other. âShut up,â he breathes, though it comes out broken and weak. âThat didnât mean anything.â
âReally?â you ask, and the smile you give him is devastating. âThen why are you hard again?
His gaze drops before he can stop it. Sure enough, his cock is already thickening back to life, flushed and twitching against his stomach as if his body has decided to betray him completely. When he looks up again, youâre licking your lips slowly, deliberately, and his mouth goes dry enough to hurt
âWant me to show you what youâve been missing?â you ask. âOr are you still going to pretend?â
Gojo isnât a weak man, he really isnât. But with your foot still by his thigh, body so close and promises of warmth and softness beyond his filthies fantasies, and that look in your eyes like you already know exactly how this ends, he can feel himself caving. The word is already there, already rising up his throat, yes, yes, pleaseâ
And then his eyes snap open. The darkness of his room hits him like cold water.
For a second he canât move. He just lies there, disoriented, heart hammering against his ribs hard enough to hurt, the last traces of the dream still clinging to him in flashes too vivid to shake. Your voice, your mouth, the heat of your body. The sight of you above him, cruel and beautiful and impossibly close.
Then reality settles in, humiliating in its clarity.
Heâs alone.
Flat on his back in a bed thatâs too warm now, sheets tangled around his legs, boxers sticking damply to his skin. His cock throbs untouched, leaking embarrassingly through the fabric, still hard enough that the loss of the dream feels almost physically painful. He drags in a breath and it catches somewhere in his chest, shaky and shallow.
He groans, burying his face in his pillow, cheeks burning even though no one is there to see it, and lies there in the aftermath of his own disgrace, hard and aching and still haunted by the sound of your voice.Â
Gojo is unfair.
He knows heâs unfair. Itâs hard not to when the reminder comes as easily as catching his own reflection in the dark screen of his laptop, or running a hand through his hair in frustration and knowing that, at the very least, having silky, soft, gorgeous white hair isnât on his list of worries. Itâs as easy as checking his grades at the end of every semester, his eyes drifting from an episode of Frieren on his laptop to the screen of his phone. When his gaze skims over his marks and settles on his final grade, Gojo knows heâs unfair.
A crash in the street, someone yelling for help, and heâs already pulling on the blue-and-white mask and swinging out the window, because apparently good looks and a big brain werenât enough. The universe had to make him Spiderman too.
He knows what he is: smart, strong, and kindhearted (that last one might be a sneak). That robbery he stopped two weeks ago before his cardiovascular final? Yeah, no biggie. Did he just save a hijacked bus the morning of this very neuropharmacology tutorial? Yeah, but no sweat, heâll still pass top of his class like alwaysâ
â97%?â
He watches you freeze and immediately slam the lid of your laptop down. You whip around to face the culprit who aired out your grade, temporarily stunned when itâs someone you donât recognise.
Gojo narrows his eyes. âHow did someone like you get a 97?â
His words come out too harsh to be surprise and lacking any warmth to come off as a congratulations. Because you donât look like the kind of person whoâd flash their grades around or fish for praise. If anything, you look horrified to have been noticed at all, eyes wide and shoulders tense like youâd been caught doing something embarrassing rather than scoring nearly full marks on a quiz the class had been stressing over ten minutes before it began.
âWhat the fuck does that mean?â you hiss back. âDo you mind? Donât look over my shoulder like a creep.â
He smirks warily but it doesnât reach his eyes. âItâs a 97. Thatâs something to gloat about. Didnât think it would come from someone like you though.â
âSo youâve been saying. What does that even mean? I donât look like the type of person to get a 97?â
âYeah,â he says bluntly, an answer seemingly as obvious as asking if grass was green or if the sky was blue.
You press your lips together to avoid cussing him out in the chatty classroom. âDo I even know you?â
âIt would be hard to miss me,â he shoots back. âIâm the one that's been topping these quizzes since the semester started.â
âFell off, did you?â
âPlease, this was a fluke, princess.â
You practically hum with irritation at the nickname. âAnd what did you get?â
He puts up a firewall immediately. âThat's nunya.â
âWhat?â
âNone of your business.â He grins.
You grimace at his evidently childish nature. âI don't think you can say that after shoving your ugly face into my business.â
You decide to take things into your own hands, standing up from your chair to reach back and snatch his laptop. He blinks at the sudden movement, momentarily distracted at your choice of words before it registers.
And Gojo is Spiderman. He could easily grab your wrist and stop you before you get too close but there's something making him hesitate. You smell nice, he notes faintly, like vanilla and something artificial but sweet. It's your perfume no doubt, he just can't wrap his head around why it smelt so good.
Your fingers successfully reach close around his laptop and lifts it off the table, placing it onto your thighs as your finger slides across the trackpad. You let out a victorious, âHah!â which has him blinking out of his daze to follow your gesture and observe the damage, seconds too late from preventing it.
His mark stares back at him.
92%.
Gojo notices you then, which is embarrassing because he doesnât even know your name. All he knows is that ever since the finals season began, youâve taken his spot on the fifth floor of the library, head down, brows furrowed in that cute way indicating your immense concentration as you try to visualise what youâre learning by tracing words and formulas in the air. He doesnât stay for long but the next day youâre still there in his spot, and then the next, and then the day after.
He stopped caring about getting his spot back on the fifth day.
He finds you everywhere else, chatting with friends on the lawn outside the north biological science building, giggling over brunch in the cafeteria, the smile you flash to your friends far kinder than the one you swung at him like a weapon that day in the tutorial room.
Youâre unfair. Gorgeous, always put together, nails adorned with charms and chrome, the confident click of your heels against the pavement introducing your entrance into every building with no shame. His ears always tune him into your conversations, and on the day that he discovered you had a sense of humourâa good one too, God forbidâhe only seemed to hate you more.
Because he is unfair, yes, he knows that. But thereâs something restless in his chest and youâre unfair in a similar way, but finding a fault in you would be an impossible task.
And that doesnât swing with him.
Because sometimes, Gojo feels like a stick adrift a river. Sometimes the currents are fierce and he sways here and there, a puppet to its frivolous nature, and sometimes the waters are calm though he is no less at its mercy than before. Heâll duck his head when people talk to him, do their part in the assessment because itâll be as easy as opening his laptop and writing the first thing that comes to mind. He doesnât care what anyone says about him, doesnât care that they think heâs quiet when truthfully, his mind is always whirring to talk to someone.
He has his friends, he has Geto, he has Shoko. And recently, it seems he has you too.
Bright, sweet, funny. You're beautiful and you donât even know it. He leans in to the sound of your laughter, wants to feel your palm against his cheek, feel your soft pink lips against his eyelids and on his cheeks. He wants to lose himself in your voice, whether itâs to scold him or praise him he doesnât care, just wants to be close again.
âSatoru?â
Gojo flinches, jolting up right, his hand slipping from under his chin to push up his headphones and knocking them clean off his head. They're connected by wire so he catches it easily enough, but they fall down to knock against his hand awkwardly.
He looks up, meeting your bemused eyes as you stare down at him, the sun behind you, your hair tumbling down your shoulders.
âHey,â he says, breathlessly. âOh, uh, want to sit? I meanâwhat are you doing here? I thought you were going for lunch with⊠Shoko.â
His words trail off uselessly when you take him up on his offer, sliding a hand to smoothen your skirt as you sit, thighs brushing his.
âIâve been trying to get Shoko and Utahime together for ages so I thought this might be a good time. Besides, I saw you from up there.â You point up at one of the taller buildings and he mentally cheers for remembering your timetable right, fist bumping his past self for picking this spot to sun bathe.
âStalking me?â he teases softly, eyes searching your face.
You bump your shoulder against his. âAs if. This is a chance meeting.â
He chuckles, unable to take his eyes off you. âSo you're free for the rest of the day, then?â
âShould be.â
âOkay.â
You look up at him and he whips his gaze forward.
âAre you?â
âSorry?â
âAre you free right now, Satoru?â
âUhâyeah! Yes, I am. Free, that is. Iâm free right now.â He clears his throat when his voice comes out a little gravelly, ears burning as his own words come back to him. âSorry, Iâm justâŠâ
Thankfully, you laugh, eyes curving into cute little crescents and he thinks that even though youâre always pretty, this might be the best look on you.Â
âJust what?â you ask, tilting your head. There's something unbearably fond in your expression, so unlike the start of the semester when youâd barely give him the time of day.
âNothing,â he lies instantly.
Your brows lift and he caves under the weight of that look almost at once.
âNot nothing. I meanââ He drags a hand down his face, groaning under his breath. âIâm sorry, Iâm just being weird today.â
âPlease, youâre always weird.â
He turns to you, scandalised. âYou always say such nice things.â
You smile. âYou know what I mean.â
He does, and thatâs the problem. He knows what you mean when you call him weird, knows the exact shape of your affection when you look at him like this, all soft around the edges, voice gone warm enough to sink into. Heâd call himself weird if he was in your position, perhaps crueler words, but you donât say them even if heâs deserving. It makes his chest feel too full, like thereâs something alive in there clawing to get out.
For a moment, neither of you say anything. the campus hums around you in the distance, voices drift past, the rustle of leaves overhead, the low grind of a bus somewhere beyond the gates. But here, tucked away on the bench half drowned in sunlight, it feels strangely private.
You glance down at his hands. âYou okay? Youâre fidgeting.â
He looks too. His fingers are indeed twisting the headphone wire around and around, enough that itâll probably knot if he keeps going. He stills them immediately.
âAm not.â
You give him a look. âNervous?â
He lets out a laugh at that, because itâs either that or admit the truth and simply die on the spot. âWhat would I be nervous for?â
Your shoulder brushes his again when you shift, and it is such a small thing, so accidental it may as well be nothing, and yet he stops breathing for a second anyway.
âI donât know,â you murmur. âYou tell me.â
Gojo stares at you.
There are moments in life, he thinks, that split everything into before and after. Like how thereâs before he got bit and after he got bit, those grandiose moments that define his life. This might be one of them. Maybe there will always be the version of him that sat on this bench with his heart halfway up his throat, and the version after, whatever that may look like. He hopes that version of him is smiling by the end of it.
He swallows. âActually, I've been trying to.â
Your expression changes, playfulness softening. âTrying to tell me something?â
âYeah.â His voice comes out rougher than he means for it to. âYeah, Iââ
He stops. should he really start this off with âyeahâ?
"Iâve kind of been meaning to sayâno, that sounds equally as stupid.â He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. âNot stupid, justâI had this whole thing in my head, and it sounded way better in there, so now Iâm trying to find it again and itâs justââ
Youâre staring at him like heâs hung the moon which makes things infinitely worse. Maybe thatâs your default look. You do always look so pretty.
You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it.
âNo, wait, I can do this.â He sits up a little straighter, like the posture alone will save him. "I just need one second because I know what I want to say, I do, itâs just every time I look at you, I forget how words work. Which is honestly humiliating and I probably shouldnât have said that, so if you could stop beingâstop looking at me likeâŠâ
âLike?â
You have to be messing with him at this point.
âJustâcan I say something mean?â
You huff, pulling back a little. âWhat the fuck?â
âI justâI feel like I could fight with you for hours over stupid lab questions, and I always know exactly what to say then, but nowââ He shakes his head, cheeks hot. âNow I canât even get through one sentence. So maybe if I just say something mean like I always do, I'llââ
You place a hand on his arm. âDon't ruin this. Iâm not rushing you. You can take your time.â
His body stiffens under your touch, fingers tightening around the wire in his lap. He loosens them forcefully only to tighten them again.
âI think,â he starts, then winces. âNo, I know that when Iâm with you, everything just feels different. Like, way better. I like being around you, I like hearing you talk even when youâre telling me Iâm annoying, which you do a lot, by the way. I like when you laugh at me and when you give me that look on your face right before you say something mean because you look like you want to kill me and thatâsâsomething I probably deserve.â His mouth twitches despite himself. "I like walking you home. and I like when you ask me things you couldâve easily googled just because you know I'll know the answer.â
Thereâs a small smile on your face as you lean in again, hanging off his every word.
âAnd Iââ he stumbles over the word, heart pounding in his chest. "I th-think, maybe, what Iâm trying to say is that Iââ
He cuts himself off with a frustrated exhale, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. âJesus Christ."
A laugh slips out of you and he blushes.
âDon't laugh,â he says, mortified.
âIâm not laughing at you.â
âYou're definitely laughing at me.â
âOkay, but only a little.â You smile wide. âBut didnât you say you like that about me?â
He groans, covering his face with his hands. âThat wasnât originally in the script.â
âSatoru.â
Thereâs something in the way you say his name that makes him look up again at once. Youâre close now, pretty face taking up his field of vision, and he hadnât even realised youâd moved closer. Or maybe heâs the one who did, unable to resist your gravity.
Your gaze drops to his mouth and then lifts again, and the world seems to narrow until it is only this bench, this sunlit patch of afternoon, the space between you shrinking into something fragile and unbearable.
He tries once more, because he has to, because if he doesnât say it now he never will.
"I want to kiss you,â he blurts, the words tumbling out, crooked and breathless. "I really, really want to kiss you, and iâve been trying not to notice for a while now because I wasnât sure if I can and I wasnât sure if youâif you maybeâand I know this is probably not the smoothest way to say this but I justââ
Wait a minute, did he end up saying âI like youâ or did he just out that heâs been staring at your lips for the past five minutes now?
It doesnât seem to matter because you lean forward and kiss him.
There's no great sweep of music, no fireworks, no impossible cinematic pan out encapsulating the sun. Just you, leaning in as if it is the most natural thing in the world, one hand coming up to cup the side of his face, your lips soft against his.
Gojo stops thinking immediately.
His whole body goes rigid for one stunned second before every thought in his buzzing head simply dissipates. Heat floods him all at once, sharp and dizzying, all the way up to the tips of his ears. He's only vaguely aware that heâs stopped breathing and that his eyes are open, and that he has absolutely no clue what to do with his hands.
When you pull back, only just, your thumb brushes over his cheekbone.
He stares at you.
You stare back, mouth curving into a shy smile that nearly kills him where he sits.
âSure,â you say. âYou can kiss me.â
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. His face must be bright red by now because your smile grows, softer and softer, and God, if he could bottle this moment and live inside it forever, he would.
âYou kissed me,â he says at last, intelligent as always.
"I did.â
âOn purpose?â
You laugh, and he thinks he might pass out. Oh yeah, he really does like it when you laugh at him. âNo Satoru, by accident.â
He makes a strangled noise somewhere between disbelief and delight. He can feel the heat of his face, knows he probably looks ridiculous, but for once he cannot bring himself to care, not even a little. All he can do is look at you with his heart in his throat and try, with limited success, to remember how these things should go.
âOh,â he says.
Your brows pinch together in a fond little crease. âOh?â
âSorry, Iâm still stuck on the part where you kissed me.â
âDo you need me to do it again?â you offer, smiling. âThough first, I think thereâs something you still need to tell me. Want to give it another try?â
Before he can answer, before he can even begin to think of an answer that wouldnât make him sound completely insane, his phone vibrates sharply in his pocket.
The sound cuts through the moment like a blade. He freezes, recognising the sound from one of two phones he always carries with him. It continues to vibrate, and thereâs only one thing he can think of as his stomach drops.
No.
Not now.
You glance down toward the noise. âYou should probably get that. It sounds urgent.â
He nearly says no, nearly ignores it completely. But the device buzzes again, more insistently this time, and cold dread starts threading through the remains of his daze. He fumbles for it with clumsy fingers still not entirely his own, and glances down at the screen.
suguru: venom sighing @ west park
or one of his goons
get over there
All the colour drains and for one awful second, he just stares until the phone turns black and reflects his distraught expression back at him.
Youâre watching him now, the softness in your expression touched through with concern. âEverything okay, Satoru?â
He forces a laugh that sounds thin even to his own ears. âEverything's fine, I justâŠâ his mind scrambles wildly for something plausible, something ordinary, something that wonât make you look at him any closer than you already are and find the gaps in his lies. "Itâs Suguru. He needs me.â
That at least is believable. Suguru has needed him for stupider reasons.
âRight now?â
Guilt crashes through him so hard it almost makes him dizzy. Because your lips are still pink from kissing him, because he hasnât even had a chance to kiss you back properly, because this is the moment heâs wanted for so long and now itâs slipping through his fingers before he can hold onto it.
But people will get hurt if he doesnât go.
âYeah,â he says, quieter now. âIâm sorry.â
âHey.â Your hand finds him again. âItâs okay.â
It is absolutely not okay. Still, he nods.
âI justââ He swallows. âCan IâŠcan weâŠâ
You smile, though he wonders if itâs truly genuine. âYes, idiot. We can talk later. Only if you promise to call me tonight.â
âI will,â heâs quick to say. âI promise.â
He stands too quickly and nearly tangles himself in his own headphone wire. You hide your laugh behind your hand and he feels a fresh wave of heat climb up his neck.
âSmooth,â you quip.
âBe nice to me,â he mutters, trying and failing to sound offended.
You stand too, close enough that he can smell your perfume, can see the tiny details of your face that heâs spent far too much time pretending not to memorise. Now that heâs up, now that heâs about to leave, it feels close to impossible, almost absurd like every part of him is pulled to you.
âGo,â you say softly. âBefore Suguru gets himself in a mess.â
He huffs out a breath. Then, because heâs greedy and because youâve ruined him since a few minutes ago, he leans down and presses the quickest, clumsiest kiss to your cheek. It's barely there, gone almost as soon as it lands, but the look on your face after makes his heart stutter all over again.
âIâll definitely call you tonight. Please wait for me.â
Gojo backs away before he can embarrass himself further or worse, before he changes his mind and decides the rest of the world can burn for ten more minutes. He wants to do something stupid like run back and kiss you properly this time like all the good movies do, but his phone feels heavy in his pocket, dragging him back to the version of himself you still donât know.
But even as urgency takes over, even as the river current catches him by the ribs and yanks, there is one bright impossible thing lodged firmly in his chest.
You kissed him.
You kissed him.
And for the first time in a long time, Gojo thinks maybe he doesnât mind being swept away at all.
Like a girl experiencing the lows of a situationship, your phone remains mercilessly silent the entire night. Itâs the first thing you check the moment your eyes open to a new day, reaching over to check your notifications. Outlook emails, reddit notifications, and nothing from the only person you want to hear from.
Thatâs fine, maybe the issue with Geto ended up being more serious than you initially assumed. Maybe he got caught up with a family emergency and passed out the second he got home. Maybe his phone died, or maybe heâd been too busy to send anything more than a mental apology into the universe and hope it reached you by divine. That is to say, you hear nothing from him all night.
None of these excuses stop the ugly little feeling from settling in your chest.
Your hand closes over your phone, open to your messages with him and embarrassingly showcases or last text to him left on delivered. For a moment, you wonder if the situation is appropriate enough to double triple text considering heâs already ignored your other texts, but eventually settle on nothing because no, actually, he can make the first move for once in his life. He had been the one stammering through half a confession, the one looking at you like you all devote and in awe while you only stared back mildly concerned he was going to burst a blood vessel, the one to kiss your cheek and promised to call all sweet-like. If he wants to disappear after that, then he can deal with the consequences without your help.
The presentation goes just as well as you thought it would considering youâre running on an accumulated two hours of sleep and youâre missing a partner. Considering the assessment is a pair presentation, that seems pretty bad.
You do your section first, voice steadier than you feel, though when you reach the point where heâs supposed to take over, there is a split second where your whole mind goes blank. Humiliation flashes through you hot and clean because this was meant to be the two of you and everyone can see it is not. Because beneath the frustration and embarrassment, there is something much worse curling inside you now.
When you finish, the tutor thanks you with a sympathy that makes your skin crawl.
As you hurry out of the lab, every sensation is suddenly all too much. the feeling of your tote under your arm, the clacking of your shoes against the floor, the bustle of students all around and you groan when you see just how many other people are leaving the building. Your pace slows against your wishes as you attempt to weave the crowd.
He didnât show up.
You bite your lip, hard.
He didnât show up.
You glance down at your phone and swipe. No new notifications.
He didnât show up.
All that talk had been nothing. He never took you seriously at all. Something akin to betrayal fills your chest and you wonder if youâre really going to start crying over a boy who has a digimon keychain on his bag. Said it gave him personality, said it was something like a photo of loved ones glanced at during a war. It's stupid, youâre stupid, you think, because how could you seriously think something new was budding there, that something was actually happening?
A hand catches your wrist in the crowd and tugs you hard to the side. You gasp as your shoulder brushes someone on the way past, the ground shifting under you before youâre pulled into the narrow strip of wall between two noticeboards and a vending machine.
âWait!â
You wrench your arm back on instinct, breath already halfway to a sharp insult, only for it to die the second you look up.
Gojo stands in front of you, chest rising and falling too fast like he ran all the way here. His hair is a mess, his glasses slightly crooked, and thereâs a stiffness to his movements. not that you care, not after this.
âAm Iââ
âYouâre late,â you blurt, all venom and wounded pride. âActually, youâre absent because late implies you cared to show at all.â
His expression crumbles. âI know.â
âDo you?â
âYes,â he swallows, voice rough. âI know.â
âThen what are we doing here?â
People move around you on both sides, students flowing past in little groups, too absorbed in their own conversations to notice how your whole world has narrowed down to this one stupidly tall boy standing in front of you like he hasnât just ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.
âSomething came up,â he says. âI couldnât help it.â
You laugh, ugly and tired. âThatâs crazy because something came up for me too. Does the presentation ring any bells?â
His jaw tightens. âIâm serious, something did come up otherwise I would have been here. Look, I know how this looks but my phone broke.â
The excuse lands heavy in the silence that follows. You stare at him incredulously. Was he really giving you that excuse right now? You start to turn around from his bullshit, not trusting yourself to speak, but he reaches out and holds you there by the wrist.
âI know how it sounds, trust me, I wouldnât believe you either If I were youââ
âYouâre right, I donât believe you.â
âThat's not fair,â he says, desperate.
You take a step back, but the wall is there and the crowd is there and he is still there, looking at you with that same helpless expression from yesterday like he can plead his way back into your good graces. âYou dropped your phone? What else did you drop, your common sense? Your sense of responsibility?â
âCome on, thatâs not fair. Youâre not even letting me apologise.â
âYou donât have a choice,â you snap back. You take a deep breath to reset your thoughts, exhaling out any emotion leaving your voice empty. âLook, I get it. We didn't start off on the same side and maybe you never really stopped feeling that way, even when I thought we were friends.
âY/Nââ
âMaybe it was my mistake for ever thinking that. So Iâm sorry Iâm so gullible.â Once you start, you find the words rushing out without much thought. Briefly, a small voice wonders if youâre really going to crash out like this in the middle of the busy science building, but oh well. Thereâs a twisted kind of satisfaction when you watch his face crumble. âI almost believed you really cared about whatever the fuck was happening between us, friendship orâwhatever the hell it was. If this was revenge for everything thatâs happened before, then youâre a real piece of shit, Satoru.â
âI said I was sorry.â
âAnd Iâm supposed to do what with that exactly?â
âBelieve me.â
You scoff. âWhy should I?â
His eyes widen a fraction and you press on.
âSeriously, why? You say things and you disappear and every time something important is about to happen, you leave. You act like I matter and then the second I start to believe it, youâre gone again. So why should I believe you now?â
âBecause Iâm here now,â he says, sharper than before.
You laugh. âNow. Youâre here now.â
âI came as fast as I could.â
âAnd I was supposed to know that how?â
His nostrils flare. âWhat do you want me to say?â
âWell, what am I supposed to think?â you demand. âBecause right now it kind of looks like you freaked out after yesterday and decided avoiding me was easier. So it's fine. I see now that you donât care about anything that was happening between us so, whatever. I donât care either.â
âThat's not true.â Gojo forces out through clenched teeth. his face tightens and for a second, he looks angry too, and the sight of it sends a mean little thrill through your chest because good. Good. Let him feel bad. âI do care.â
âBut not enough to show up to the day of the presentation?â You make noise of disbelief. âNot showing up doesnât even have anything to do with us, itâs just common sense if you care about your grades like I know you do!â
âExactly, so do you really think I wanted to miss out? Obviously I didnât want to miss out on 20% too!â
You canât help it, you feel petty and latch onto his words. âOh, so thatâs your biggest concern after all, huh?â
âDon't twist my words, you brought it up first.â He runs his free hand through his hair. âWhat are we even⊠look, I didnât want to make you present by yourself. Something just genuinely came up.â
You find a small part of yourself believing him. âWhat came up? a family emergency?â
He doesn't say anything. You laugh. Nothing about this is funny. You feel like youâre losing your mind. âOkay. Sure. Something came up. You definitely didnât do this to piss me off.â
He groans. âNot everything is about you.â
The silence after is immediate and total. His eyes widen almost at once, horror flashing across his face like he can hear himself only after the words are already out in the world.
He takes half a step forward. âWaitââ
âOkay, great.â
âI didnât mean to say that.â
âNo?â Your laugh comes out thin and shaky. âBecause it sounded pretty clear to me.â
âY/N.â
âIâm not making this about me, Satoru. You made it about me the second you promised something and then disappeared.â Your voice catches, but you force it steady again. âAll I did was believe you.â
He steps forward again, hand circling your wrist. You move to pull away but when you look up, you freeze.
He looks awful up close. Paler than usual, lips chapped, a faint shadow purpling the skin just above the collar of his shirt where fabric has shifted just enough to expose it. His hand on your wrist is warm, too warm, and his fingers are shaking.
A smarter, calmer version of you would ask why. This version however, only notices that he still wonât answer.
âWhat?â you ask, because your voice has to be empty or you will break. âWhat exactly do you want from me?â
He stares at you like the answer should be obvious.
âTime,â he says at last. âJust give me more time.â
For one beat, two, you canât even process his words. Then something hot and sharp tears through your chest.
âYou cannot be serious. more time?â you repeat disbelief making the words go thin. âYou say you care, you say you were trying, and then when I ask for one actual answer you tell me to wait. Again. Gonna tell me youâll tell me later again too?â
âJust listen to me for a second.â
âNo.â You take a shaky breath and it does nothing to steady you. âNo, I am so tired, Satoru. I am tired of feeling stupid around you, I always have. Iâm tired of guessing and Iâm tired of every conversation with you ending like this, with me standing here waiting for you to stop looking at me like thereâs something youâre dying to say but you wonât say it.â
âThat's not what this is.â
âThen tell me what it is!â
âI canât!â
The outburst turns heads this time and people slow as they pass. He notices a second too late and drags a hand over his face, breathing hard. When he speaks again, his voice drops, but it is no less intense for it.
âI canât,â he repeats. âNot here. Not like this.â
You press your lips together. âThen maybe whatever this is isnât worth it.â
The words shatter the conversation. You donât mean them and you know you donât mean them the second they leave your mouth. But youâre too proud, too hurt, to take them back and Gojo has gone still.
You watch the moment it lands, watch him stop moving altogether, even to breathe. His mouth parts then closes, and he looks at you like he doesnât recognise you for half a second, the sight making regret flash hot and immediate through your body.
âSatoruââ
A ringtone cuts through the air and you both freeze.
The sound of the ringtone is so familiar by now, a haunting melody that signals the end of almost every conversation youâve had with him. Your eyes follow the sound to his pocket.
He told you his phone broke. Something in you just gives.
You scoff at first, then laughter quickly follows. His face falls and he knows heâs lost you even before you shake his hold off, stepping back and looking away.
His hand moves toward his pocket and stops. âOkay, I know this is really bad but please just wait.ââEnough, Satoru. I donât know why youâre even making this that big of a deal,â you choke out, crossing your arms over your chest like itâll succeed in placing something stronger than your self-restraint between the two of you. âThe project is over whether you cared to show up or not.â
He flinches and you can practically see him split in two, body angled toward you while something else keeps him from moving. His jaw is tight, hand flexing uselessly at his side, eyes on yours like heâs trying to hold the moment together through sheer force.
âListen to meââ
âI need to get home,â you say.
He steps forward. âIâll walk you to the station.â
You actually laugh and when you speak, you hate how tired you sound, how flat. âWhy would you do that? I said the project is over, Gojo. And so is any reason for us to talk.
Gojo stiffens, arm falling slack to his side.
For a second, you think he might stop you or say something more. Instead, he just stands there, the phone finally gone silent in his pocket, his face stricken and too pale beneath the fluorescent lights.
You make it out of the building with your hands clenched and your mouth pressed into a thin line. The walk to the bus stop feels unreal, like moving through water. By the time you get there, your phone buzzes once and your heart lurches so hard it hurts.
shoko: u okay???
That bastard probably texted her about the situation. Of course he did. Somehow he could make time for that, but not for you. Something bitter and awful curls in your stomach.
You type back: âof course!!!!!!â because lying is contagious apparently, and add enough exclamation marks to make it look convincing before shoving your phone into your bag and sitting down when the bus pulls up to the curb.
The doors fold close and still, stupidly, some part of you looks up expecting him to be there.
Gojo should have known the two of you wouldnât talk after the argument.
There are no late-night calls anymore, no accidental lingering in the same space, no easy back-and-forth that used to slip so naturally between you, no watching you from the corner of his eye when he thinks you arenât paying attention. The silence that settles in the space left behind is slow and heavy and Gojo feels like heâs drowning.
He tells himself itâs for the best. Maybe he flew too close to the sun and now heâs melting and falling and nothing, not his spider instincts nor his web, can catch him. Youâre simply too radiant and too civilian for someone of his status quo.
But then if that was true, why does it get under his skin every time he sees you with Suguru, laughing together somewhere on campus? Why does something in him still ache whenever he comes across a tweet he knows would make you laugh, only to remember youâve blocked him? And why canât he stop thinking about how easy it used to be between you, back when you looked at him like he was someone worth knowing, before everything got so complicated?
And if he truly believed having you is as impossible as it seemed, then why was he following you back home?
Spiderman shakes his head, wishing he didnât have this restrictive masks on so he could run a hand through his hair and shake out his thoughts. Because he doesnât have any ulterior motives as he follows close behind, rooftop to rooftop, as you make your way back from campus, no matter how sinister it sounds. No, heâs simply making sure a kind, helpless civilian gets home safe now that the sun has set and night creeps in.
After all, youâre walking alone with your hands buried deep in your pockets and your shoulders curled in against the cold. He catches the slight shiver that runs through you, the quiet sneeze you try to stifle, the irritated little kick you give a loose rock after it nearly sent you stumbling. You look tired, closed off in a way he isnât used to, and it hurts him to believe it might be his fault.
âThis is stupid,â he reasons. âI look like a creep.â
Despite the truth of his words, he lingers above you anyway, haunted by the contrast of it all, the way you once smiled at him so easily, the way your face fell when he disappointed you, the softness of your voice when you left him. You look at Spiderman with a warmth and openness you no longer spare Gojo, and he hates how selfishly relieved he is to get even that much.
Fine. If you wonât have him as Gojo, heâll take being Spiderman.Â
Spiderman drops down in front of you in one smooth motion, feet hitting the pavement with a soft thud. âHeyââ
You move instantly, lunging forward to grab the back of his neck, other hand on his tricep, and hook your leg behind one of his. He blinks, standing upright one moment, before you pull his leg out from under him and heâs flipped onto his back on the ground.Â
Your face softens as you look down at your perpetrator. âWhat theâSpiderman?â
You quickly let go and step back before realising you should at least help him up. He takes your hand, standing up and rubbing his shoulder.Â
Kind and helpless civilian, my ass.Â
âAre you okay?â you fuss, hands hovering uncertainly. âI mean, that was kind of your fault for scaring me though. But are you okay? Seriously, donât do that ever again you could get hurt. But are you hurt?â
He winces, rolling his shoulder once more before chuckling. âThere goes any worries I might have had about you.â
âWhat are you doing here? Donât you have a city to save?â
Spiderman drops his hands to his side. âItâs strange because it sounds like you donât want me to be here.â
âIt took you this long to realise?â you tease with a smile.Â
âActually,â he says, quieter now, âI wanted to thank you.â
That catches you off guard enough to still. âFor what?âÂ
âFor all the help recently.â He lifts one shoulder in a careless half-shrug, but thereâs something more deliberate under it, something oddly sincere. âI donât usually do sidekicks. They steal all my thunder, and everybody knows the side characters end up more popular than the lead anyway. Bad for morale. But you came pretty close.â
âThat wasâŠâ You blink. âAlmost nice. Thanks?âÂ
âDonât get used to it. I have a reputation to maintain.â
âIs that what this is?â you ask. âA gratitude tour?â
âGod, no. I do enough free labour as it is.â He watches you laugh for a moment, eyes softening behind his mask before he says, âSo. Are you free right now?â
You narrow your eyes immediately. âIs this another deeply scientific survey on how normal civilians spend their evenings? Because your sample size is getting weirdly specific.â
He huffs a laugh and rocks back on his heels. âNot exactly. Although for the record, your data has been invaluable. Very compelling stuff. Lots of sarcasm. Mild threat level. Surprisingly strong upper body.â
âFlattery is not going to save you here.â You study him for a second. âWhat do you mean, then?â
He gestures vaguely down the street, then up at the skyline like he hasnât fully committed to the idea himself. âI mean⊠you look like youâve had a rough week, and Iâve had a rough week, and I thought maybe we could do something that doesnât involve property damage or mutual yelling.â
You raise an eyebrow. âGeez, that narrows it down a little, doesnât it?â
âIâm being serious.â
The joking edge in his voice softens into something a little more fragile and when you look at him more carefully, at the mask, at the battered suit, at the way heâs trying to sound casual about something he clearly thought through before showing up, you feel something warm blossom in your chest.Â
âAnd what,â you ask slowly, âdoes Spiderman do when heâs not concussed?â
He spreads his hands. âTonight? He was hoping to take a very pretty girl on a low-budget date.âÂ
You stare at him stunned before laughing softly, looking away before flickering your gaze back. âI bet you only say stuff like that behind the mask.â
âThat was smooth, you can be honest.â He grins behind the mask, you can hear it in the shape of his voice. âBut that complaint doesnât exactly sound like a no.âÂ
You look away again, toward the empty stretch of pavement ahead, the city washed in evening light and the first hints of neon waking up around you. You think of the hollow room waiting at the end of this street, your cold sheets and tear-stained pillow, and then of how light you suddenly feel standing here with him. It is not enough to erase everything, but it is enough to loosen something in your chest that has been wound painfully tight for days.
When you look back at him, youâre smiling despite yourself. âIâm free.â
âGreat,â he says immediately, a little too fast, then reins himself back in. âGreat. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. You said yes. Thatâs good, thatâs great, even.âÂ
You snort. âSo where are we going?â
He steps closer, lowering his voice like heâs about to let you in on a secret. âThat depends. Are you going to scream if I say I had something less walkable in mind?â
It takes a second for the meaning to land, and when it does you gesture sharply upward. âPlease donât tell me youâre slinging me up there again. Thatâs happened to me twice now and neither of those experiences were fun.â
âI wouldnât sling you,â he says, offended. âThat sounds so careless and crass. Iâd hold you very, very securely. In my arms, even.âÂ
âCan you even hold me? I just flipped you onto your back.âÂ
He laughs, then offers you his hand, gloved palm open between you. âCome on, just one swing. Iâll take it slow this time.â
You eye his hand, then his mask, then back to his hand. âYou didnât take it slow last time.â
âIn my defence, we were under attack by sentient goo both times. Be gentle with me.âÂ
You hesitate before gently placing your hand in his. âFine. But if I die, Iâll come back as a supervillain and haunt you specifically.âÂ
His fingers curl around yours, warm even through the suit.Â
âNo promises.â
Before you can second-guess yourself, he steps in, one arm sliding around your waist with practiced ease. The closeness knocks the breath from your lungs more effectively than the sudden lift when his feet leave the ground. You make a sharp noise and grab at his shoulders.Â
âThere it is,â he says, voice bright with delight and close to your ear. âThatâs the exact reaction I was hoping for. My masculinity is doing just great, by the way.â
âDo not make this about you,â you snap, though the words come out thinner than intended.
âBit hard not to,â he says lightly. âYou are, technically, in my arms.â
His web catches somewhere high above with a sharp thwip and you only have a moment to gasp out the beginnings of a final protest before the pavement drops away beneath you.Â
The city opens under you in one dizzying rush, all glowing traffic and dark rooftops and windows lit gold against the deepening blue of the evening. Your stomach lurches so violently youâre certain it gets left behind somewhere around the second floor of the nearest building, and your grip on his shoulders tightens with enough force to probably leave bruises through his suit.Â
âOh my God,â you choke out, voice snatched by the wind. âOh my God, Iâm flying. Oh my God, this is how I die.âÂ
He laughs, shameless and much too pleased with himself for someone who is holding your life in his hands. âThatâs a little grim. If youâd only open your eyes, youâd see how beautiful it is.âÂ
âOpen my eyes?â you repeat, incredulously. âSpiderman, my eyes will dry out and roll out of my head!â
His hold shifts just slightly, firmer at your waist as he catches another web and swings you both into a smoother arc. âTrust me,â he says, quieter this time, the teasing still there but softened around the edges. âJust for a second. Look.â
You crack your eyes open in narrow slits, and for one disorienting beat all you can really see is himâmask blurred at the edges, the line of his jaw beneath it, the hood rippling back with the force of the wind. Then your gaze drifts past him, out and down and everywhere at once.
Below, the harbour stretches out, black-blue and endless, broken only by the ribbons of reflected light from the bridge and the waterfront. Boasts sit like small, blinking stars, bobbing in the gentle waves, and the skyline curves around the edge of the bay, glittering and frankly unreal.Â
âThere,â he says, gentler now. âThatâs better. I told you Iâd take it easy this time.â
âYou said a lot of things,â you mutter, though some of the panic has begun to leak out of your voice replaced by quiet awe. âMost of them were stupid.â
âYeah, but were they charming stupid or just regular stupid?â
That manages to pull a short, unwilling laugh out of you, the gesture tipping your head back to look at the sky. The first stars are visible now, faint but there, and above them the clouds are smeared thin and silver. Then you look down at the water again, at how impossibly far below it is, and somehow that distance no longer terrifies you quite as much.
The water below catches the lights in broken gold, and he swings you through another perfect arc, close enough now that you can hear the faint slap of waves against the pylons. The city around you glitters as the sky deepens. His arm around your waist stays firm and sure, and with every swing your fear ebbs a little more, making room for something warm and foreign.Â
He must feel the change in you because after a moment, he turns his head just enough for his voice to reach you clearly.Â
âOkay,â he says. âNow that you trust me a little more, let me take you somewhere.âÂ
You lift your head to look at him. âSomewhere? I thought this was the date.âÂ
âThis is the foreplay.âÂ
You grimace, wishing you werenât being held hostage miles above deep water to pull back. âAnd just like that, Iâm dry.âÂ
He laughs, the sound warm and easy. âBut your complaining has finally stopped so Iâd take that as a win. And for the record, I meant thereâs more I still want to show you. Iâm not blowing my entire budget on just one dramatic entrance.â
The next arc carries you around the edge of a low building, and then the shape of it begins to emerge properly. The amusement park stretches out in front of you, lights flickering on as dusk settles fully. The ferris wheel looms overhead, its metal frame catching the last of the sunset, and with most of the rides closed, the whole place feels strangely eerie in its emptiness. But then the water catches the light in soft ripples, the sky deepens into indigo, the first stars begin to blink into view, and it becomes something quietly beautiful.Â
Spiderman watches you from the side, the light from the nearest streetlights in your eyes. His body is uncharacteristically still, mask tilted toward you.Â
âWoah,â you breathe out at last.Â
His shoulders relax just a fraction.Â
âYeah,â he says softly. âThought you might like it. And look, I reserved the entire place out for you. Itâs all yours for the entire night.â
âThatâs because itâs closed.âÂ
He grins and holds out his hand. âCome on. I know a way for you to get a view of the city high up and without your eyeballs drying out on you. Iâm trying to be accommodating now that I know youâre apparently very fragile about flying.â
âAs any normal person would, I fear.âÂ
You eye his outstretched hand and then at the pier around you. The place feels suspended in time, the shuttered stalls, the way the lights glow without the usual crowds to dull them.Â
âYouâre very confident for someone who almost got flipped onto concrete five minutes ago,â you say, but take his hand anyway.Â
âWhat can I say?â he shrugs, fingers warm as he interlaces them. âI trust you not to do it again. Weâre close like that, right? But seriously, can we stop bringing that up? Itâs a sensitive topic for me.âÂ
He leads you past a locked gate, showing off his lockpicking skills which prompts a raised brow and not the fawning he had initially expected, then to another gate to which you just had to look away from while he broke in. You walk beside him until heâs standing beneath the ferris wheel, metal bones creaking softly.Â
Spiderman glances up then looks back down at you, holding out his hand in a flourish.Â
âMy lady,â he says, dipping his head. âWould you care to have a go?âÂ
âReal original,â you say but donât protest when he guides you into one of the empty carriages.Â
It sways slightly as you settle in, the door closing with a soft sound. Then the wheel jerks once, twice, then starts moving ever so slowly. Your breath catches as the ground drifts away, the pier shrinking beneath, lights blurring into a soft constellation of their own. Thereâs no rush like when you were swinging, just a gentle, steady climb lifting you above the city skyline.
You lean forward, hands gripping the edge of the carriage as the city opens up before you. It stretches out endlessly, lights scattered like spilled glitter, the dark water reflecting everything through a dreamy haze.Â
âIs this what you see everyday?â you ask.Â
Spiderman hums, relaxing into the seat opposite you âMaybe something close adjacent.â
âWell itâs gorgeous. I canât believe I forgot how freeing it feels to go to amusement parks. Thereâs just something about being so high up, you know? But I guess I donât need to be telling you that.âÂ
âEnamoured already? We havenât even reached the top yet.â He stares at you for a moment. âOkay, pop quiz. Which do you like better, the ferris wheel or the swinging?âÂ
âDefinitely the ferris wheel.â
âThat hurts.â
You glance back at him over your shoulder to shoot him a cheeky grin. âWhy are you sitting on the other side? Is the view better over there?â
He tilts his head and looks at you for a beat too long. âYeah,â he says at last. âItâs pretty.â
He doesnât pull his gaze away from you and it takes a second for the words to land properly, and another second for the warmth in your face to catch up with them. You laugh softly, more because you need somewhere to put the sudden nervousness than because itâs especially funny.
âYouâre really pulling out all the stops today, arenât you?â Your gaze flicker from the view back to him. âIs this something you do with all the civilians you save? Iâd hate to embarrass myself by thinking Iâm special.âÂ
âWould you compliment me back if I said it was just you?âÂ
âMaybe. Are you telling the truth?âÂ
âYes.â He turns his body slightly so he can rest his elbow on the back of the seat, unabashedly staring right at you. âItâs just you.â
The carriage creaks softly. The wheel keeps turning and somewhere below, music too faint to make out drifts from some unseen speaker, somewhat staticky and distant.Â
With nothing else to do, you laugh again, buying you some much needed time to figure out what to say next. âIf you needed a boost to your ego, you could have just said so. You didnât have to bring me to a half-abandoned amusement park and make me stare at the harbour to get it.â
âAnd the compliment?â
âI guess youâre not as annoying as I initially assumed you were.âÂ
âMy ego definitely does not need the help,â he says easily. âAnd what kind of compliment is that? Give me something a little more impersonal.â
âYouâre humble,â you observe with a good mannered snort.Â
âIt comes with the whole superhero thing.â He continues to watch you until he realises that this prolonged eye contact should come with some form of conversation.
Spiderman sits up a little, crossing one leg over the other. HIs ankle dangles and bumps into yours, a mere accident that makes you freeze so your body doesnât move away.
âHow have you been doing?â he asks, and the question comes out with an almost awkward plainness to it, stripped of the usual easy swagger. A second later he seems to hear himself and tries to recover, lifting one shoulder. âYou seem a little quieter than usual. Not that Iâve been paying attention or anything. I just have, you know, a lot of care for the citizens of this city.â
The ferris wheel creaks as it carries you both a little higher, the lights of the pier shifting below in soft, sleepy colours. He watches you for a beat too long, and you know the joke gave him cover, but not much. The question is still sitting there between you, small and strangely careful.
You glance at him. âThat was subtle. Really invisible work there.â
âThank you,â he says. âI pride myself on my restraint. I couldâve been much creepier about it.â
âIâm sure that was difficult for you.â
âIt was,â he says with a sigh. âYou have no idea how hard Iâm working right now to seem normal.â
You look back out over the water, the lights trembling across the surface. âIâve been fine. Thatâs the official answer.â
âI think Iâve earned myself the unofficial answer,â he says quietly.Â
You fold your arms loosely over your middle. âItâs ridiculously stupid. Like, who hangs out with a superhero and starts ranting about their situationship?â
He makes a little choked sound which makes you look over in concern. He quickly covers his mouth and waves you on. âSituationship? I didnât know it would have counted as a situationship.â
You frown because what exactly does he know about what âitâ is? âItâs 2026, everyoneâs idea of love is warped. If it doesnât have a label then people will just slap the word âsituationshipâ over it and pray for the best.â
âRight, right. Please continue.âÂ
âWell, there was someone. Obviously.â You stop and let out a sigh, slumping. âOr maybe there wasnât and I just made him into someone in my head. I canât really tell anymore, itâs all just so messy. I thought maybe there was something there, I thought that was what everything was building up towards and then⊠we had this argument and it was honestly embarrassing looking back at it and now we donât talk. So.âÂ
âDid you want there to be something?âÂ
Ignoring the fact that youâre having a love life talk with Spiderman, of all people, you answer honestly. âOf course. I wouldnât be this annoyed if I didnât.â
Spiderman lets his head knock against the window as he groans. âOkay. That makes sense. That makes a lot of sense. Of course you wanted something, of course.â
You glance sideways at him. âWhy do you sound like that?âÂ
âSecond-hand sorrow.â
âI think they call that empathy.â
âI just think,â he says, his voice a little rougher now, âit wouldâve been easier if youâd said no. Iâm only saying that because Iâm looking out for you, obviously. As a public servant.â
You snort despite yourself but the heaviness settles back in quickly enough. âIt would have been easier if he just kept being an asshole like when it all started. If heâd just kept being a dick, then fine, whatever, I could have lived with that if I never found out the kind of guy he is. But he wasn't, he ended up being kind. And funny. And actually decent and that really pisses me off. He made me hopeful and I think that might be the worst part.â
Spiderman goes very still across from you, shoulders pulling tighter and chin dipping just slightly so heâs staring a hole through the floor of the carriage. When he finally speaks, his voice has gone quieter.
âYeah,â he says. âThat does sound pretty bad. Especially if he knew what he was doing.â
You frown. âI donât even know if he did. I canât tell if he was just oblivious, or if he really did mean something by it but then freaked himself over nothing.â
âThatâs not better,â Spiderman retorts. âThat makes him sound very pathetic.â
You look at him properly now, the dim lights from below catching on the higher points of his face. âYouâre taking this really personally for someone who doesnât know him.â
He lets out a short laugh. âMaybe I just have strong opinions about men disappointing women. Somebody has to, the bar is in hell.â
You exhale a laugh through your nose. âExactly.â
The carriage gives a small creak as it keeps moving and for a few creaky moments, neither of you say anything. The quiet isnât awkward, and he hasnât said enough to put you in your thoughts, but itâs quiet anyway. Then Spiderman clears his throat and leans forward, elbow braced on his knees.
âOkay, Iâm going to say one more thing about it and then Iâm going to stop being so emotionally available. It feels a little off brand to what we have going on.â
You snort. âSure, go for it.â
âI think,â he starts carefully, âthat if someone made you feel seen and hopeful for more and then disappeared, youâre allowed to think heâs a jerk. You donât have to make excuses just because he also had some good qualities. Because being kind in some moments doesnât cancel out making you feel abandoned in others. But maybeâŠâ
He takes a breath. âDonât give up on him. Please.â
For some reason, the sincerity in his voice makes you pause.
Damn, so even superheroes experience situationships? Because he sounded really invested just then in a way that can only be explained as first-hand experience. You wonder what kind of person could break Spidermanâs heart like that.
âThanks for the love advice, Spiderman.â
He nods solemnly. âNo problem.â
And because the entire situation is simply too ridiculous to keep a straight face, you laugh. He smiles too, watching you for a moment before letting out his own laugh.
âThere you are,â he says. âI was wondering what other crimes Iâd have to commit tonight to fix the mood.â
âWeâre going to have to circle back and talk about the lockpicking eventually.â
âAs long as it isnât today.â
The carriage gives a gentler, longer groan as it continues descending. You let your head tip back against the seat and, almost absentmindedly, your eyes drift out toward the skyline again. You frown.
âOh.â
He looks out too. âThat sounded like a bad oh. What kind of oh was that?â
You look past him, past the window, toward the stretch of harbour and the city beyond. âI think we missed the top.â
He blinks. âWhat?â
âThe peak,â you say, sitting forward. âThe very top of the ferris wheel? We were talking and I didnât even notice weâd already gone over it.â
âOh wow, that guy is the worst. He stole your ferris wheel climax too.â
âIs it also part of your superhero job description to ruin every moment with some sexual innuendo?â
He lifts both hands. âOkay, fair, Iâm having a bad wording night. But this is hard on me okay? I arrange a beautiful nighttime ferris wheel, I listen supportively while you talk about another man, and still somehow Iâm the bad guy.â
âRight? How do you do it?â
The carriage is nearly at the bottom now. Below, the pier glows in soft strings of light and you feel a strange sense of finality when it shudders to a stop. Before you can maneuver around a âthanks for tonight, see you first thing in the morning!â, Spiderman leans forward.
âDonât look so ready to go just yet, thereâs still the aftercare part.â
You sigh but donât berate him. âThereâs still more? Someone save me.â
The carriage door clicks open with a soft metallic sound. He stands first and offers you his hand again, less theatrical this time, and more sincere.
âCome on,â he says, voice soft in the wind. âDonât go home yet. Stay with me a little longer, thatâs all Iâm asking. Let me be the part of tonight you remember better.â
You look at the hand heâs still holding half between you. Then, before you can overthink it, you slip your hand into his.
âBut only because Iâm curious what exactly counts as better.â
He turns his hand, catching yours properly, and something in your stomach flips at the gesture.
âGood,â he says, low and warm. âBecause Iâve been trying very hard all night not to ask too obviously.â
You lied before. Swinging is leaps and bounds better than sitting stationary in a small carriage inching along at a snailâs pace. Itâs exhilarating and freeing, and yes, your eyes still hurt when you open them too wide, but youâve figured out the perfect amount of squinting to keep them from tearing up. Instead, you whoop and cheer as he swings you in high arcs and dramatic drops, skimming close enough to the ground that you might believe the end of your life is waiting there, if not for your growing trust that Spiderman will always pull you back up.
Half your screams are still terror, though.
Spiderman isnât silent either. He laughs right into your ear when you cling to him tighter, praises you when you throw your head back and cheer, and points out his favourite places to sit and watch the sunrise. He complains that the cityâs architecture doesnât cater nearly enough to his swinging needs, as though that should have been a priority in urban planning. He carries you over a football stadium and you marvel at its size, the bright field below looking almost unreal from up here.
âThink you can handle a little more?â he murmurs against your ear.
High on adrenaline, you nod against his neck.
Then he drops you.
His arms slide out from under your knees and he quickly unwinds your hands from around his neck. One moment you are safe in his hold, and the next you are falling, a heavy body surrendered to gravity as the ground rushes up to meet you. Your scream could wake the whole city if it were not already awake.
You look up. The sky above is vast, endless, strewn with stars so beautiful they almost make you forget the terror roaring through you. The wind screams in your ears, your clothes snapping against your body, and somewhere inside the panic there is a strange, suspended calm that feels almost like freedom.
Just before the ground can meet your back, Spiderman swoops in from the side and catches you cleanly in his arms. The force of it steals another cry from you, but then he is already pulling you upward again, the momentum sweeping you into another great arc before gravity draws you back, over and over until the motion finally begins to slow.
For one suspended moment, the two of you dangle in the air, saved from certain death by nothing but the web shot from his wrists. Metres above the ground, your life held so easily in someone elseâs hands, you find that you feel no fear at all.
In fact, you are laughing.
It starts as a breathless, disbelieving sound, then spills into something uncontrollable, and he chuckles at first before his own laughter joins yours. You laugh until your lungs ache, until your face hurts, until all you can feel is the warmth of his breath against your cheek and the solid certainty of his arms around your back.
He makes no move to set you down or sling you back to safety. Instead, he only keeps you there, held against his chest, his masked face angled down toward yours. You want to believe he is looking at you the way you are looking at him, full of wonder and something even softer than that, but it is hard to be certain when his face is hidden.
Your laughter dwindles into one last helpless giggle as you peer up at him. âNice catch.â
Your gaze drops from the white of his eyes to the shape of the mask stretched over the bridge of his nose, the faint outline of his mouth beneath the fabric. There has not been a single moment in your strange, ridiculous friendship with Spiderman when you have been so curious about who he is under that mask.
âThanks,â he says, his voice warm and low. âI kind of do this for a living.â
You laugh softly, and he shivers when your breath mists against the fabric over his lips.
âDo you remember when you first saved me?â you ask.
âYes, I slammed into a bus stop and ruined it forever. I also remember telling you to never mention that again,â he says immediately.
You nod, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. âWe were so different back then. I almost thought you were shy the amount of times you ran away.â
He is quiet for just long enough to make your chest tighten. Then, softly, âPretty girls fluster me.â
You snort, but thereâs no hiding the warmth that spreads across your face, and for once you make no move to cover it. Let him see it. Let him know the effect he has on you, just how fiercely this thing burns within you, this aching desire to hold him close, to whisper his name and feel him shiver beneath your touch.
Slowly, as if afraid to snap the fragile thread of tension between you, you pull your hand away from your chest and trail it up the side of his neck, your touch feather-light.
You hear his breath catch. Feel it, too.
Your fingers drift higher until your palm cups his cheek through the mask. âI want to know who you are,â you say softly.
He flinches. âYou canât.â
âWhy not?â you ask, voice gentle. âYou donât trust me?â
âThatâs not it.â
âReally?â Your thumb brushes the edge of his jaw. âBecause I wouldâve accepted that as an answer.â
He goes oddly still. âWhat?â
Spidermanâs stunned silence makes you smile, and a quiet laugh slips out of you at how easy he is to read despite the mask. âWhatâs wrong? Iâve read the comics. Iâve seen the movies. I know what happens when the superhero reveals his identity.â You tip your head, eyes never leaving him. âSomething bad always follows. Itâs like punishment for their hubris. The main companion dies, or the hero has to choose between their lover and the world. It always ends in tragedy.â
He recovers quickly enough, his arms tightening around your waist as if instinctively holding you closer. âYou think I couldnât save both you and the world?â
You ignore the implications of his words, biting back a smile. âAnd that would be the hubris part.â
He scoffs, though the sound comes out a touch too strained to be convincing. âThatâs not why I canât tell you my identity, princess.â
âThen tell me why.â Your voice drops lower, soft as breath. âBecause right now it feels like youâre making up rules as you go.â
He hesitates. It is brief, but not brief enough.
âYou wouldnâtâŠâ He swallows. âYou wouldnât feel the same. It would change things. It would change whatever this is.â
You go quiet at that, mulling the words over. Then your hands drift from his neck to rest lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath the suit.
Looking up at him, you hum. âDo I know you?â
Spiderman flinches again. âNo.â
You laugh softly at how bad he is at lying. âAlright. Are we friends?â
He doesnât react quite as strongly to that, which tells you enough to keep going.
âDo we not get along?â
âHold onââ
You immediately compose a mental list of all those who had once wronged you in some way. Some were easy to recall, their offences more recent like the cyclist that had rode past you one morning and knocked your coffee out of your hands leaving you confused and uncaffeinated for class, or your neighbour who is always throwing parties. Maybe itâs someone closer to you than that, like Naoya, or Toji, or Mei Mei, or that old lady that always comes in at 8am on a Thursday and routinely complains about her coffee not being hot enough. You frown at that last thought and Spiderman catches it, opening his mouth to stop you.
âAre you a student, orââ
He hisses loud enough to cut you off. âDonât guess. Donât you dare. If you have to know, itâll be because I told you, not because you stumbled into it by accident.â He pauses, then adds, more mutinously, âAnd I definitely donât need to hear who you think I am. Iâm sure you can imagine how terrible that might be for my ego.â
You tilt your head, amused. âI get that, but I was only going to ask ifââ
âNo.â
âBut Iââ
âI said no.â
âSpiderman.â Your tone sharpens just enough to shut him up. âI was going to ask if youâre that old lady who always demands her coffee be molten before I hand it over. You know, the one who acts like I personally invented workplace safety regulations.â
Spiderman doesnât say anything for a long while. âWhat?â
You laugh under your breath. âI definitely told you about her before. Orââ you pause, smiling to yourself, âtold you about you, maybe. The one who always comes through drive-thru.â
âPrincess,â he says dryly, âI am not sixty years old.â
âPerfect,â you reply. âThen Iâm sure I wouldnât otherwise care who you are.â
And then heâs laughing. It bursts out of him bright and helpless, so sudden and genuine that it makes something in your chest go warm and dizzy. His head tips back, the white lenses of the mask curving with the shape of his smile, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your own grin from widening too much. If he laughed in your face every day for the rest of your life, you think you might let him, if only to know that thisâhim, here, nowâis real.
Heâs talking again, you realise belatedly, his mask shifting with the movement of his mouth, but the words barely register. Youâre too busy watching the fabric stretch and crease, too aware of how close he is, how little separates you now.
Your fingers trail back up the side of his neck, and that silences him instantly.
Despite all his earlier objections, he stills completely when your hand settles there. Your thumb grazes the seam where mask meets suit, and you stop, glancing up at him.
âCan I?â
âYou canât,â he whispers, just as softly, though he doesnât move away. If anything, his hand only tightens on your waist.
âI wonât look, I promise.â Your thumb traces small circles against his neck, your gaze locked on his. âI just want to touch you.â
He shivers. You feel it run through him, sharp and involuntary.
He says your name in a low rumble, the sound almost enough to undo you on its own. âThis is a bad idea.â
âIf you tell me to stop, I will.â Looking down, you slip the tip of your finger beneath the narrow break between his bodysuit and the edge of his mask.
âMy arm is going to cramp,â he mutters weakly, and the attempt at humour only makes your smile deepen.
You begin to peel the mask back. Just a little at first, just enough to reveal the bare line of his neck and feel the tense muscle there. Your fingertips glide over the exposed skin, and his breath catches again, but he still doesnât stop you.
You wonder how far heâll let you go.
You lift the mask higher, over the line of his jaw, and your eyes snag there before they can help it. Then over his mouth, where you pause for the briefest second, struck silent by the sight of him, before leaving the fabric gathered just beneath his nose.
He tries for a smirk and you watch it form. âWas that all you wanted to see?â
You lean in slowly, stopping just short of him to gauge his reaction. When he doesnât move away, you close the distance until your nose brushes his.
âFor now,â you whisper.
His eyes search yours through the mask, and whatever he finds there makes his mouth flatten into something almost pained.
âIâm not going to do anything you donât want,â you murmur, and though you mean it, there is a terrible hollow ache opening in your chest now. Gojoâs face flashes uninvited through your mind and you shove it back, determined to bury it, though itâs clear enough from the way Spiderman goes tense that you havenât done nearly as good a job as youâd hoped.
You donât want to use him like this.
Over the past few months, Spiderman has become something steady in your life, a source of comfort in ways you never expected. Maybe it is because he has no face, no fixed place in your world, no history to complicate things. Maybe thatâs why you have been able to tell him things you canât even bring yourself to say to your friends.
And now you are asking him for something you cannot take back. Still, your fingers curl into the fabric of his suit.
âPlease.â
He moves before you can prepare for it, leaning in so suddenly your breath catches, your startled yelp cut off by the harsh press of his lips against yours.
For one disorienting second, all thought disappears. Then he kisses you again, harder this time, and your hand flies up to hold him there, fingers tangling against his neck as though you can keep the moment from slipping away. His mouth is warm and real and a little clumsy with restraint, like he wants more and is trying very hard not to take it. The hand at your waist tightens, enough to make your pulse jump.
And then he groans into the kiss, fierce and guttural before pulling away. The break leaves you both panting.
You donât speak at first but neither does he. You just stare at one another, lips swollen, breath unsteady, the last minute catching up all at once in a rush so overwhelming it feels almost unreal.You are already leaning in again before you fully register it, drawn by instinct more than thought, wanting to close the distance and do it all overâ
When suddenly gravity shifts.
You let out a startled scream as the ground drops from under you and you pitch forward into him. His arms close around you automatically, holding you flush against his chest as the city begins to move beneath you.
âWhat are youââ
âIâm taking you back,â he says, voice rough.
âWhat?â You twist, trying to look up at him, but he keeps you tucked in tight against him. âWait a minute!â
âIâm dropping you back at your dorm.â
âHold on a second!â
âI canât.â The words come out strained, almost frayed at the edges, and because his voice sounds like thatâbecause the kiss is still there between you, lingering like heatâyou let your protests falter.
The flight back is too quick. When he finally sets you down outside your dorm, your legs feel unsteady for more reasons than one. The second your feet hit the ground, your hands shoot to his arms, keeping hold so he canât just disappear again.
âYou didnât want it?â
He doesnât answer immediately, but with the mask still pushed halfway up, you see the way his jaw clenches.
The truth hits you all at once, sharp and humiliating and you find your lips, once pressed against him, now forming the sound of an apology. âIâm sorry it was bad.â
He makes a vague movement, like he wants to run a hand through his hair and has only just remembered the mask. âThatâs not it.â
âThen what is it?â The desperation in your voice makes you cringe the moment you hear it, but itâs too late to take back.
He looks at you for a long, silent moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is unbearably soft.
âYou said it yourself, didnât you? Revealing my identity would only hurt you.â
Your grip on his arms tightens. âIâm fine with that. I donât need to know who you are. It doesnât matter.â The words rush out now, tripping over each other. âThe one Iââ You falter, heart hammering. âThe one I care about is you.â
Spiderman watches you wordlessly as you trip over your own tongue. Then, after a beat that feels much longer than it is, he says, âI never said it was your mistake.â
You inhale sharply and, before you can think better of it, lean in and steal a kiss from his lips. There isnât enough time to consider what the hell youâre doing because he answers immediately.
Whatever hesitation heâd been clinging to burns away the second your mouth meets his, seared off by heat and want and the unmistakable fact that this is really happening. This kiss is nothing like the last. It is harder, hungrier, and when his hand catches your wrist to pull you closer, it still doesnât feel like enough. A low groan tears from him into your mouth, impatient and wrecked, and then heâs biting lightly at your bottom lip as though restraint is already slipping through his fingers.
You gasp, and he takes the invitation immediately. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, coaxing every breathless sound from you until your whimpers are swallowed down by him. Still, it isnât enough. How could it be? Not when he finally has you in his arms like this after wanting you for so long, after all the distance and hurt and wrong timing. His body urges you back a step, then another, until your shoulders brush the wall and he follows, crowding you there.
His hands slide up your waist and back down again, settling hard at your hips, while the other cups your jaw to hold you steady for the fierce, dizzying press of his mouth. You cling to him like he is the only solid thing in the world, and maybe right now he is. Your knees have gone weak enough that you donât trust them to hold you without him.
A crash sounds somewhere in the alley below.
You jolt, teeth catching accidentally against his lip. He groans at the sting but pulls back, shooting the darkness beyond the window a withering glare like he could kill whatever interrupted him. You follow his line of sight, but nothing else happens. The alley settles back into stillness. After a second, he exhales and leans down until his forehead rests against yours.
âYou should probably check that out,â you murmur, more to break the thick, dizzy silence than out of any real conviction.
He hums, the sound warm against your skin. âThen why arenât you letting me go?â
Only then do you realise your fingers have curled tight into the front of his suit. They only tighten further, pathetic and needy in a way youâd usually hate, but his answering chuckle is filthy and starved enough to make warmth bloom through you.
âStay,â you whisper.
âOkay,â he says softly. âI wonât go.â
You shake your head and lift it just enough to meet the white gaze of his mask, your own eyes dropping to his mouth for the briefest second. âNo. Stay.â
He doesnât need to be told twice.
His hand slips from your cheek and a second later a web shoots from his wrist and catches on the frame of your third-floor window. His other arm locks around you and suddenly heâs lifting you with him.
Getting through the window is clumsy and breathless and far less graceful than the way he moves through the city. One of your shoes catches on the ledge, his shoulder bumps the frame, and you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing too loudly. It feels absurdly scandalous, sneaking through your own window like this, and the absurdity only makes it worse.
He climbs in first, then turns immediately and offers you his hand. You take it with less hesitation than before, and he guides you through carefully, steadying you the moment your feet touch the floor, and for a second he doesnât let go. He just keeps hold of you, standing close in the dimness of your room, eyes fixed on your face.
âAre you sure?â he asks.
You donât hesitate. âI wouldnât have kissed you if I wasnât.â
Something in him softens at that, though his voice stays low. âI still canât let you see me.â
You shake your head and close your eyes before your nerve can fail you. Your hands rise to the seam of his mask. âTrust me.â
And because he does, he lets you pull it away.
Truthfully, thereâs a moment where temptation almost gets the better of you. He's right there, close enough to touch, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin and the shape of his mouth. Youâre touching him, your tongue has been inside his mouth and now you know his taste intimately. All it would take is a moment of weakness and the opening of your eyes to finally know who has been under the mask this entire time. Just one peek, one action to end the curiosity. Still, you hold yourself back.
Donât ruin the moment.
A soft chuckle brushes your lips, his bare breath warm against them now that the mask is out of the way. You steady your hands against his chest and feel the frantic pound of his heart beneath your palms. He shivers at the contact.
He tries to be patient, he really does. Tries to make this moment careful, almost reverent, like you deserve. But Gojo is greedy. Heâs greedy for your attention, for the spark in your eyes to flare up the moment his eyes lock on yours, heâs greedy for your touch, the brushing of fingers when you pass him his coffee in the morning, for that smile that you only ever seem to give him when heâs Spiderman. He is greedy for this version of you, soft and wanting and close enough to ruin him.
His brow twitches, something cruel twisting in his stomach and he traces the seam of your lips with his tongue, pushing in even before you open your mouth to him.
His tongue finds yours again before he can stop himself, the kiss turning deeper, hungrier. He presses you back against the window, one hand bracing against the sill behind you so the edge doesnât dig into your spine while the other settles hard at your waist. He devours you completely, nothing tentative about him now. He kisses you like heâs starving as all his late night fantasies, your name on his tongue and his hand wrapped around his cock, become finally realised when he tastes you.
You lightly tap his arm, and he pulls back to let you breathe but his lips donât leave you for long.
âGod, I've wanted you for so long.â he nuzzles your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. His hardness presses against your thigh, leaving you with no doubts about his words. "I canât stop thinking about you, every time I close my eyes, youâre there. You're haunting me.â He continues to confess between heated kisses along your jawline.
The utter longing in his voice, the depraved desperation as he presses impossibly closer, hands wanting to trace up your side but to also push you up into him, the heat of his mouth against your pulse point, itâs all too much and you let out a whimper.
He groans softly against your skin, his restraint fraying even further at the noise.
âStop teasing me,â you gasp, tilting your head to give him more room and hating how needy you sound.
His answer is rough and low. "I canât help it.â
Deciding youâve had enough of him making you melt where you stand, you push at him instead. He lets himself be moved, following your blind guidance as you walk him backwards toward where you think your bed is. When the backs of his legs hit the mattress, he sits, and his fingers curl around your wrist to tug you closer between his knees.
Your hands find his face again, fumbling slightly as they trace bare skin for the first time. The line of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the shape of a face you still refuse to see. He lets you explore him in silence, stilling beneath your touch in a way that feels almost unbearably intimate, pressing a kiss to your palm when your hand drifts closer to his mouth.
Your fingers linger on the warmth of his skin, tracing the soft curve of his lips before dipping lower, brushing against the sharp line of his jaw. He's so still under your touch, like he's afraid one wrong move will shatter this fragile moment, and it sends a thrill through youâthe power you hold, even blinded. With your eyes closed, it blocks out everything but sensation, heightening every graze of your fingertips, every hitch in his breath. You can feel the rapid thump of his pulse beneath your palm, matching the frantic beat of your own heart.
He tilts his head slightly, nuzzling into your hand like a dog seeking affection, and the vulnerability in that small gesture makes your chest tighten. This masked hero, the one who swings through the city saving lives, is reduced to thisâpanting softly, body tense with barely contained need. It's intoxicating, knowing you can unravel him like this.
âYou're killing me,â he murmurs, voice rough and low, laced with that desperate edge that makes your core clench. His hands slide up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just below the hem of your skirt, not pushing further but holding you there, grounding himself. âPlease donât stop here, touch me more.â
Your finger grazes his boner through the tight fabric of his suit and he hisses, bowing inward.
âShit!â
You pause. âA thought has occurred.â
He lets out a long suffering sigh. âPlease donât ruin the mood.â
You laugh softly, dragging your nails over his erection over and over, drinking in every flinch you feel from where youâre pressed against him. âI canât help you if youâre still in this⊠spandex.â
Spiderman huffs again but you feel him pull back and unzip his suit, wherever that zipper might be. âIâm so glad you canât see me right now. There was no way I could get out of this suit in a hot way.â
âTrust me, my imagination isnât doing you any favours either.â You pause. âDo you have to wear a thong under your suit?â
âThe mood was really good five seconds ago. Don't ruin it because youâre curious about what Iâm wearing underneath.â
You giggle and your nerves evaporate. Sure, youâre about to have sex with the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman and that might forever change the trajectory of your relationship with him, but at least itâs still him. When he sits back on the bed and guides you forward, you follow him without a second thought and kneel between his legs.
âWhat are youâoh fuck.â He inhales sharply, hands never leaving you for long as they find purchase in your hair. âFuck, you look so pretty.â
His thumb traces your bottom lip, feeling it give way under his touch. He curses again. âI need your mouth on me, pretty girl.â
You laugh at his eagerness and reward his honesty with your hands down his chest, breath quickening when he lets out a small sigh as your fingers graze his lower stomach. You allow yourself the time to trail a finger down his bare chest now that he is free from his spandex, marveling at the muscle you find tensing under your touch.
Eventually, you find the waistband of his boxers. âSo you do wear boxers?â
âY/N, please. The mood.â
You tug his boxers down, slightly upset you canât see the way his cock swings up, finally free from its restraints. The sounds he makes compensates and you find it hard to stay disappointed as he groans, the hand in your hair closing around to tug you impatiently towards his dick.
âSorry,â he mumbles, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you. Despite his apology, he doesnât make an effort to loosen his hold that much.Â
You drag your hands up his thighs to find where they converge. You wrap your fingers around him, feeling out his shape. If he asked in that narcissistic way of his, youâd tell him heâs average size. Truthfully, heâs thicker and longer than youâd dare to admit, the slight curve a feature that has you pressing your thighs together.
He bucks involuntarily, a whine escaping his lips that sounds so damn needy it makes you wetter.
âTake your time,â he manages to grit out though itâs breathless. âIâm not going anywhere.â
You wonder who heâs talking to because youâre sure as hell not going to take your time. Instead, you lean in closer, your breath ghosting his length and smell himâmusky and hot after being trapped in that suit for so long.
âYouâre shaking already,â you whisper. âHavenât you ever had a girl on her knees for you?â
He doesn't answer, just lets out a shaky exhale, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. The silence is answer enough, and it makes you laugh, hard enough to be distracted by the pathetic twitch his cock gives at his own humiliation.
âNo way? The amazing Spiderman gets no game? My god, I almost feel sorry for you,â you coo mockingly, tongue flicking out to lap at the bead of pre-cum on his tip. He jolts, a strangled gasp ripping from his throat, you smile against his flushed skin. âAll that heroic web-slinging but no oneâs ever taken care of this?â
Before he can respond, you take him into your mouth, lips sealing around the head as you suck gently. He tastes salty and slightly bitter, but the way he gasps all high and desperate makes you hum in approval, the vibration drawing another shiver from him. Your hands brace on his thighs, nails digging in as you bob your head, taking him deeper inch by inch. Heâs not huge but heâs certainly responsive, hips twitching like he canât help it, fucking shallowly into your mouth.
âShitâoh God, your mouth!â His words dissolve into a groan, his hand tightening in your messy strands.
You hollow your cheeks, tongue swirling around the underside, tracing the vein that pulses against it. With your eyes closed, every sensation is amplified, the wet sounds of your sucking, the salty drip down your throat, the way his cock twitches on your tongue.
You pull back slightly, letting spit string from your lips to his tip, and pump him with your hand, remembering to twist a little at the top.
âThereâs no way youâre going to cum already, are you?â Once again, you desperately wish to see him, to see him writhing under your touch, flushed with his eyes rolling back.
âDonât stop,â he begs, voice cracking.
You oblige, leaning back down to swallow around him, nose brushing the coarse hair at his base. He smells like sweat and arousal, and you gag a little when he thrusts too eagerly, but you don't pull away. Instead, you moan, letting him feel how much you want this, how his desperation turns you on.
His free hand claws at the bed, knuckles white, and you can feel the tension coiling in his body, the way he's fighting not to come too soon. You speed up, slurping obscenely, one hand slipping down to cup his balls, rolling them gently. He cries outâactually cries outâhead thrown back, and you feel powerful, desired, even as the mean streak in you wants to edge him until he breaks.
But youâre aching too, pussy throbbing with neglect and its slickness soaks your thighs. You pop off him with a wet sound to which he whines in protest, hips jerking forward seeking more.
âNot yet,â you say breathlessly and rise to your feet to push him back fully onto your bed.
He goes willingly, sprawling out with the audible sounds of his pants. You climb over him, straddling his waist, and grind your soaked panties against his thick length. The friction makes you both moan, his hands flying to your hips to hold you there.
âPlease,â he pants. âLet me touch you. I need toââ
You cut him off with a kiss, letting him taste himself from where your mouth met his cock. Itâs messy and you rock against him harder, chasing that pressure on your clit. But itâs not enough. You need more.
Pulling back, you guide one of his hands between your legs, pressing his fingers against your clothed pussy. âFeel how wet I am? Itâs all for you. Now do something about it.â
His fingers tremble as they slip under the fabric and brush against your folds, making you hiss at the contact. Heâs clumsy at first, virgin nerves showing in the hesitant circles he rubs over your clit, but the sensation burns with your eyes closed, turning every awkward stroke into fire. You grind down to guide his rhythm and he learns fast, thumb pressing firmer, two fingers finding your entrance.
âLike this?â he asks, voice small and eager, and you nod, biting your lip to stifle a moan as he pushes inside.
Heâs not skilled, all bumping knuckles, but God does the stretch feel good. You clench around him, riding his hand, the wet squelch filling the room.
âFaster,â you demand, and he obeys, curling them experimentally, hitting that spot that makes your thighs quake. Sensory deprivation turns it overwhelming, leaving you drowning in the slide of his fingers, the heat of his palm grinding against your clit. You whimper as the pleasure builds and he drinks in every sound, pumping harder, thumb flicking relentlessly.
âYouâre so tight,â he murmurs in awe, free hand roaming your body, squeezing your breast through your shirt, pinching the nipple until you arch. âSo wet for me. Fuck, I could do this all night.â
But you canât wait anymore. You shove his hand away, panting, and fumble with your clothes, stripping off your top and skirt, panties last. He helps, clumsy but enthusiastic, suit peeled down to his hips. Naked now, you feel exposed and vulnerable, but his hands are everywhereâstroking your sides, cupping your ass, pulling you down.
He positions himself between your legs, leaning down to kiss you deeply while his hands memorise your curves, gliding them over your soft skin. Itâs not enough. You roll your hips against him, trying to press him in, seeking that friction you desperately need.
Spiderman lets out a low groan against your ear, his control slipping at your eager movements. He pulls back to watch, to drink in the sight of you writhing under him, at your hands fumbling desperately at his arms to draw him back in.
âGive me a second,â he mumbles. âI want to take my time with you.â
âPlease donât,â you whine. Itâs infuriating, having him so close you can feel his heat against your skin and yet, it only emphasises the emptiness inside you. âPlease just touch me.â
âIâve got you, baby.â Unable to resist your needy sounds any longer, he finally gives in. He readjusts his position, guiding himself to your entrance. He thrusts up slightly, his dick gathering your slick at his tip, the both of you moaning at the friction. âTell me what you want, Y/N. I need to hear how badly you need me.â He all but pleads, repeating the action over and over, eyes closed shut at every nudge against your clit.
You whimper, fingers finding purchase on his biceps. âIâm not going to beg you, jerk.â
He ruts up, the tip catching on your entrance and you almost believe itâs in until it slides right past. âBeg me,â he pleads again, mouth planting desperate kisses at your neck.
The teasing drags on, his cockhead slipping through your folds, bumping your clit with every shallow thrust, but never filling you. It's torture, the heat of him so close, the slick sounds obscene in the quiet room. You buck up, trying to impale yourself, but he holds your hips down, chuckling breathlessly against your throat.
âCome on,â he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. âJust say it. Tell me you want my cock inside you.â
Your pride wars with the ache until itâs finally too much. âFine,â you gasp, nails raking his back. âFuck me. Please, justâput it in. I need it.â
The words break him. With a guttural moan, he lines up and thrusts in, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You're stretched full, walls fluttering around his thickness, and you cry out, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper.
âOh God, yes,â he groans, stilling for a moment to adjust, forehead pressed to yours. âYouâre perfect. So fucking tight.â
You clench around him deliberately, and he whines, that puppy-like desperation surfacing again.
âMove,â you plead as you rock up, and he does, pulling out halfway before slamming back in. The pace starts slow, experimental as his inexperience shows in the uneven rhythm. But it builds, thrusts deepening, the bed creaking under you. Each snap of his hips grinds his pubic bone against your clit, and with your eyes closed, itâs all you can focus on: the slap of skin, the wet glide of his cock, the way he fills you completely.
He buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking marks into your skin, hands gripping your thighs to spread you wider. âFeels so good,â he mumbles between thrusts. "Like you were made for me. Canât believeâfuckââ
The tension coils tight in your belly, pleasure spiking with every plunge. Heâs hitting deep now, tip kissing your cervix, and you arch sharply.
But heâs greedy, wanting more, always more. One hand slips between you to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles that make stars burst behind your eyelids. âCum for me,â he pleads, voice hoarse. âWanna feel you squeeze my dick. Please, Y/N.â
The command, laced with desperation, tips you over. You shatter, pussy convulsing around him, milking his cock as waves crash through you. He follows seconds later, thrusting erratically before spilling inside, hot spurts painting your walls. He doesnât even stop then, instead opting to slowly grind against your ass to push it all in. Finally, he collapses onto you as you both pant, bodies slick with sweat.
For a moment, thereâs only the aftershocks and his softening cock still twitching inside you. Then he lifts his head and kisses you softly, reverently.
âThat was incredible,â he whispers.
You smile lazily, fingers tracing his jaw once more. âYeah?â
He doesnât pull out right away, staying buried deep as his breathing evens out, like he can't bear to leave your warmth. His hands roam lazily now, no longer frantic but exploratory as he maps out the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts. You must possess some kind of iron will because you keep your eyes closed even then such that you can feel every callus on his palms, every tremble in his touch. Itâs intimate, this post-climax haze, and it stirs something softer in you despite the teasing edge you cling to.
âYou're still hard,â you murmur, shifting your hips experimentally and feel him twitch inside you. He groans, low and needy, burying his face in your shoulder.
âCanât help it,â he admits, voice muffled. âYou feel too good. Like... I donât want to stop. Ever.â
The confession hangs there, vulnerable and raw, and you canât resist poking at it.
âAw, puppy,â you coo, running your fingers through his hair.
He nips at your collarbone in retaliation, but thereâs no bite to it. âYou like it,â he says, confidence peeking through the desperation. âThe way I beg. Admit it.â
You huff, but your body betrays you, clenching around him again. He takes it as an invitation and starts to rock slowly, shallow thrusts that keep him seated deep. Itâs lazy and sensual and builds up friction without urgency.
âMaybe,â you concede breathlessly, hands guiding his head. âBut donât think it makes you special.â
âLiar.â He chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending tingles down your spine.
His pace picks up slightly, one hand sliding down to where youâre joined, thumb circling your oversensitive clit. You gasp, the pleasure sharp after your orgasm, but he doesnât stop, drawing out whimpers you canât suppress.
The room fills with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, the wet slide of him moving inside you, the occasional creak of the bed. He kisses up your neck, lips brushing the edge of the blindfold.
âIs this okay?â he asks.
âYeah,â you whisper, turning your head to capture his mouth.
The kiss is slower this time as you focus on simply exploring and memorising his taste. He pulls back eventually to sit up and change the angle, hooking your legs over his shoulders. The stretch is deeper like this, his cock hitting new spots that make you moan.
âGod, youâre beautiful,â he breathes. âI always thought you were but when youâre like this⊠fuck.â
The praise warms you and you reach for him blindly, fingers finding his chest. âShut up and fuck me harder.â
He laughs, but obeys, snapping his hips with renewed vigor. The position lets him grind deep, balls slapping against your ass, and you feel another climax building. His hand returns to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts, and you shatter again, crying out, though not with his superhero name because that feels a little impersonal.
He follows and spills with a whine, collapsing beside you this time. Now, when the darkness creeps in from the edges, itâs not because youâre making the conscious decision to keep your eyes closed. The afterglow lures you to sleep and he holds you throughout it all.
But Spidermanâno, Gojoâlies there with his heart still refusing to slow, greed silent for only a moment but never truly gone. His fingers trace absent patterns over your back as if committing every inch of you to memory like the repetition might somehow make this enough. As if this version of the night, this version of you, can be folded up and hidden somewhere safe for later.
Because he knows, even now, that this is the only way he gets to have you.
Not in daylight, not with your eyes open and knowing. Not as the boy who sits two rows away and grins when he beats everyone to the answer. Not as Gojo, all sharp edges and arrogance and every stupid mistake heâs made with you piling up behind him like a wall.
He presses a kiss to your hair before he can stop himself.
It is a stupid thing to do, indulgent and dangerous, but there is no one here to catch him at it, no one but the sleeping girl in his arms who doesnât know the shape of his face and trusts him anyway. That makes it worse, makes his heart hurt so badly he has to take in a shuddering gasp to calm it, if only slightly.
As Spiderman, you had pulled him inside your room by hand. As Spiderman, you had touched his face with your eyes closed and trusted what you found there. As Spiderman, you had kissed him like you meant it, let him close enough to hear the soft wrecked sounds you make when you say his name.
It should feel like a victory. Some ugly, secret part of him has wanted this for too long not to recognise the shape of triumph when it finally arrives. And yet it settles strangely in his chest, tangled up with something meaner and sadder.
He tips his head back against your pillow and stares up at the dark ceiling, one arm still curved protectively around you. Outside your window the city hums low and distant, all traffic and wind and sirens dulled by height and glass. Somewhere out there, the rest of his life is still moving along with deadlines, classes, the version of himself you will face tomorrow and maybe hate a little more than you did today.
His throat tightens.
You shift against him again, this time with a sleepy little sigh, and his eyes close at once. If he were better, he thinks, he would leave now before the night can twist this into something cruel, before staying turns this into something impossible to explain later. Before morning puts light on all the parts of him that he intentionally leaves in the shadows away from your gaze.
He tips his head back against your pillow and stares up at the dark ceiling, one arm still curved protectively around you. Outside your window the city hums low and distant, all traffic and wind and sirens dulled by height and glass. Somewhere out there, the rest of his life is still moving along with deadlines, classes, the version of himself you will face tomorrow and maybe hate a little more than you did today.
But Gojo is a weak man so he stays.
Long enough for your breathing to deepen fully and for your body to grow loose and heavy with sleep beside him. Long enough that he starts to imagine, against all reason, what it would be like if he didnât have to move at all. If he could still be here when your eyes opened. if he could watch you wake and let himself be seen, just once, just enough to catch the flicker of emotion across your face. Would you be happy? Mad? Disappointed?
But the universe is rarely this forgiving and patient, and he eventually pulls himself up on his elbows.
Youâre still asleep, face half-buried in the pillow now, hair spilled across the sheets, mouth parted slightly on a soft exhale. The sight of you unguarded in such a way makes something ache low and hopeless inside him. Thereâs a mark near your collarbone he has to drag his gaze away from before he becomes truly pathetic.
âDon't do this to me,â he whispers, though whether he means you or fate or himself, he isnât sure.
Obviously, no one answers him.
It would be easier if you werenât like this. If you were messy or careless or cruel in your sleep. If you took up too much space, kicked him in that old wound that still refuses to heal. If you snored. If you drooled on the pillow. If there were anything in the world that made leaving you here feel less like carving something out of himself with his own hands and leaving it on the pillow next to your head.
But there isnât. So Gojo leans down and presses one last kiss to your temple.
Before he goes, he stands beside the bed for one suspended moment, looking down at you with all the wretched fondness he never manages to contain well enough.
âI'm sorry,â he whispers softly.
Then heâs gone, slipping back through the window into the thinning dark before dawn.
Morning comes gently.
You wake slowly, feeling the ache of too little sleep and something duller lower down, soothed by the warmth trapped under your blanket. Itâs a gloomy day outside and faint grey light slips in through the curtains. For one sweet, stupid second, the memory of the night before reaches you before your eyes properly open, and your mouth almost curves with it.
You reach out to touch him and find nothing.
Your eyes snap open.
âSpiderman?â
The name sounds ridiculous in the morning quiet.
The space beside you is empty, no lingering body heat, no weight in the mattress, no messy shape of someone else, just rumpled sheets and a half-opened window blowing a chill into your room. It all looks so unbearably ordinary for a place where your life had felt, only hours ago, like it was tilting into something secret and miraculous.
Something strange moves through you then, too tangled to name cleanly. The first is an easy one to decipher, disappointment, sharp and immediate. Then embarrassment, because some soft foolish part of you had expected to wake up and find him still there. Perhaps not unmasked, maybe not staying forever, but at the very least there to share the same sense of sheepishness you feel. Enough to prove last night hadnât been a beautiful, selfish thing borrowed from the dark.
You reach out and smooth your hand over the cold sheet once, as if you might find traces of your common sense there and regain some rational thought.
It doesnât, to no surprise. All it does is confirm what you already know.
Your bed is empty.
Has the sun always felt so good on his skin?Â
Gojo swings through the city as he does every morning. Itâs a habit that comes from the obligation, something Geto had said in passing about the responsibilities of being a superheroâor something. Satoru never really listens when Geto scolds him and he certainly doesnât care enough now to pull those words to the surface.Â
His morning patrols are little more than a guilty pleasure anyway. To be above the city made everyone else seem like ants, feeble things that needed saving every minute of every day. But itâs fine.Â
Because speaking of guilt, thatâs what he should be feeling right now. But he doesnât. In fact, Satoru is having a rather fine and dandy day.Â
He high fives the police chief when they start scolding him on the mess of webs he left behind during the car chase. He tips the convenient store cashier when he pays for his energy drink, forgoing the whole âleave the store and then web cash to the workerâs chestâ bit that he always does. He smiles at the senior citizens when they eye him even though he knows the gesture wonât show through the mask.Â
He finger guns the kids as they ride by in scooters and bulky, too-big helmets. He graciously rescues a balloon from a tree. He pets a dog on the way to class.Â
His phone buzzes in the pocket of his jacket that he wears to keep away the winter chill, the new personal phone that he got, not his work phone, and that does a really good job of extinguishing his mood.Â
Gojo settles down on the ground and ducks into a thin alleyway, pulling out his phone to check.Â
Itâs a calendar notification reminding him that today was the big outing, some aquarium outing he had to beg Shoko to be invited to. Once, he had looked forward to it but now, all he can think of is the hurt in your eyes, the way your mouth falls open in soft pleasure, the slight flutter in your eyes as you arch against hisâ
He shoves his phone back into his pocket and hurries back to his dorm.Â
Ignoring Geto's casual greetings, Gojo opts to instead ceremoniously flop into his top bunk the moment he slings in through the open window.Â
âHow was patrol?â
âDonât ask me stupid questions.â
âOkay.â Geto looks up from his book, turning in his chair to look up at the blue and white lump. âWhatâs wrong with you?âÂ
Gojo tugs off his mask, ruffling his hair as it falls messy before faceplanting back into his unmade bed. âNothing.â
âYou left the dorm beaming like everyday is just sunshine and rainbows to you, and now youâre back sulking. I wouldnât call that nothing.â He pauses when he receives no response, before sighing. âJust make sure to ditch the attitude before we meet up with Shoko. And donât take it out on Y/N.â
Gojo canât help it, he chokes on his own breath. Geto , of course, notices.Â
âWhat was that sound?âÂ
âThatâs just how I breathe.âÂ
âYou donât always sound like a kicked puppy when youâre breathing.â His roommate stands to peek over the frame of the bunk bed, raising an eyebrow when heâs met with Gojo's devastated state. âIs this about your tragic loss to Venom? Look, heâll come back and youâll get another shot at being a good superhero, I promise.â
âItâs not that.â
âIs it Y/N then?â
Gojo lifts his head just enough to give him an incredulous look. âHow did youâŠ?â
âI saw what you were reposting on Tiktok.â
Gojo flops onto his back, hands over his face, feet kicking about in frustration. âGod, even when sheâs not around she drives me crazy!â
âNot that Iâm not super sympathetic about your situation, but maybe itâs not the best idea to freak out about your normal civilian life when youâre Spiderman-ing. Itâs better to keep those things separate, you know?âÂ
Gojo grabs his pillow and shoves it over his face.Â
âWas that an agreement or an act of rebellion? Satoru, Iâm serious. You canât mix your personal life and your superhero activities together.âÂ
He stays quiet, or maybe heâs suffocated himself. Gojo kind of hopes itâs the latter if itâll save him from telling the truth.Â
Geto shakes his shoulder. âDude, stop moping. We have that thing to go to and Shoko wonât be happy if you flake.â
Gojo remains limp and after a few more shakes, Geto frowns with the tiniest hint of worry.Â
âOkay, out with it. What did you do?âÂ
At this, Gojo finally turns his head to look at his roommate mournfully. A slow, sinking sensation of dread drops in Geto's stomach as he searches this thin glimpse of his roommateâs face.Â
âPlease tell me you didnât.â
âI did.â
âHow bad? Does she know?â
Gojo lets out a long, suffering sigh. âWorse.â
âYou kissed her.âÂ
âWorse.âÂ
Geto's mouth drops open. âYou fucked her? Satoru, what the fuck?â
âI donât know, okay, it just happened!âÂ
Geto pulled his hand back as if burnt. âJust happened? These things donât just happen! Sex doesnât just happen!â
Gojo groans into his pillow. âWe were both consenting adults in this, Suguru, itâs not a big deal!â
âThatâs not the issue! She doesnât know who you are, Satoru!â
âI know that!â
âDo you? Because if you did I donât think you would have done that!â He runs a hand through his hair. âHow does she not know?â
âShe kept her eyes closed,â Gojo says.
âYou kinky bitch.â
âIt was the only way she wouldnât see!â
âReally? Because I can think of other ways. Have you considered the tactic of just not fucking her in the first place?â
Gojo frowns as if in genuine thought before shaking his head.Â
âHell. This is my superhero. Weâre all fucked.â
âSuguru, you have to help me.â Gojo sits up, head ducked slightly so as to not hit his head on the ceiling above. âI fucked up okay, I know I did. But itâs complicated, alright? Y/N and I arenât⊠good right now. I thought we were and then I dropped my phone and then we fought and now sheâs blocked me on everything. Even Linkedin. And Spotify!â
âSatoru, I help you with Spiderman stuff. I help you with last minute homework deadlines because you were too busy saving the world. I help you with lying to our friends about why you disappeared during a bathroom break for an hour that doesnât involve emptying your guts into a toilet. Iâm not helping you when you fumble a girl.â
âBut what if I fumbled her because Iâm Spiderman. I feel like that counts, right?âÂ
Geto turns and drops himself into his chair, the seat turning slightly at the momentum until he plants his feet down. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. âYou still havenât told me what happened.â
âY/N and I broke up.â
âYou werenât dating.â
âA friendship break up then. A situationship break up.â
âFine, whatever you want to call it. What even happened? Because every time we talked about her before that it sounded like things were going well.âÂ
âThings were going well. I almost kissed her like, five times. The sixth time would have definitely been the charm.â
Geto makes a face.âI feel like thatâs an indication that things arenât going well, but okay.â
âAnyway, remember when venom showed up a few days ago and I broke my phone?â
âAnd how you were knocked out for a night? I remember.â
âRight well,â Gojo takes in a deep breath that indicates heâs about to ramble, âbecause I broke my phone I wasnât able to tell her something came up and I wouldnât be able to make the presentation. I only woke up after we had to present, meaning she had to do it herself and now she hates me because she thinks I donât take her seriously. and I canât clarify that I do take her seriously because, again, she blocked me on everything. She also unadded me on every Google Doc she shared to me.â
âDamn, sheâs serious.â For a moment, Geto seems genuinely apologetic. âThat sucks man, Iâm sorry you were cockblocked by Venom.â
âWell, it comes with the powers and responsibility and all that.â Gojo falls back onto his bed, starfished as far as his limbs can go before they hit the sides of his bunk bed. âYou always have a solution to everything. Canât you fix my love life too?â
âI canât perform miracles, dumbass.â
âThat's not your line. Youâre meant to be sympathetic and helpful. Do you even care about me?âÂ
âNo,â Geto says mournfully. âUnfortunately youâre the only one saving our city these days so I kind of have to stick around to make sure you donât mess that up.âÂ
Gojo grabs his Agumon plushie and throws it down over the side of the railing. He doesnât have to look over the edge to know it hit its target. âIâm serious, Suguru.â
Geto catches the plushie with ease and gives it a pat on its head, placing it gently on his lap. âIâm serious too. Maybe this is a good thing. I keep telling you that you have to keep your superhero life and your boring, normal person life separate. This just shows you what happens when you donât do that.â
âWoah, thank you, Mr sunshine and rainbows.â
âLife isnât sunshine and rainbows.â
âIt is when you have the eyes to see it,â he sighs dramatically. âIs it too much to ask that I can just be Satoru and Spiderman without losing anything?âÂ
Thereâs something in Gojo's voice that makes Geto pause. Maybe itâs the lack of that whiny tilt to his cadence, maybe itâs the fact that heâs shoved his face into another plushie on his bed, voice muffled and hiding the desperate sound.Â
Geto wants to tell him the truth, that if the world was good and just he could be every side of him, that he shouldnât have to pick between being a weapon for the cityâs safety and an actual person with hopes and dreams and wants. Geto wants to tell him that he shouldnât have to pick being a superhero over being a person, but he canât tell him that. Because as the world stands right now, Gojo simply canât have both.Â
âThere's still that outing,â Geto finds himself saying. âLook, it sounds like you really hurt Y/N but sheâs not unreasonable, you know that. Iâm sure if you talk to her you can clear things up. Or just apologise now that time has settled.â
Gojo shuffles a little and sits up to look down at his roommate. "Weren't you just telling me I shouldnât mix personal and work life?â
âYou see Spider-Man as work?â
âAnswer my question, man.â
Geto sighs. âThe part of me that just wants to make sure youâre not hurt doing this whole superhero thing wants to tell you that. But the part of me thatâs your friend doesnât. It sucks that in this world no one can be their genuine self. But I mean it when I say that I want to see you happy and if youâre happy with Y/N then I hope things work out between the both of you.â
No one says anything for a while. Geto looks up.Â
âDude, what did you eat today to make you sprout all that feelings bullshit?â Gojo mimes throwing up.Â
Geto rolls his eyes, grabbing the plushie on his lap to throw it back up at him. Gojo catches it, his Spiderman instincts never letting him down, and when he puts it down on his bed, heâs smiling.Â
âSo, any tips?â
âJust be yourself.âÂ
âI was and look how everything turned out.â
Geto hums. âThen maybe letâs start with your wardrobe. If youâre going to win Y/N back, you canât show up to the function wearing the same one shirt.â
The aquarium is a shitty place to take someone youâre no longer on speaking terms with.Â
It seems even the fish have figured out how to move around without touching. Silver fish turn as one body and never collide. Stingrays glide past each other like silk dragged through water. Even sharks know how to circle without making contact, all smooth instinct and measured distance, and that would be deeply meaningful if you werenât currently trapped in a dark blue tunnel feeling like shit.Â
It is, Shoko had said in the groupchat three days ago, supposed to be a fun, normal outing. You should have known then that something demonic had possessed her.Â
The tunnel curves overhead in a long arc of glass, seawater casting wavering patterns of light over the floor and over the faces of people passing through. Children press their sticky palms to the glass, and a baby somewhere up ahead lets out a delighted shriek at the sight of some broad, ghostly thing drifting above. Couples walk slowly enough to be irritating, stopping every two steps to point things out to each other in soft voices.Â
The entire place is built for wonder and you are having a terrible time.Â
âLook,â you say from beside Shoko, pointing upward with none of the enthusiasm the gesture should probably contain, âa fish.âÂ
âI think thatâs obviously a shark,â Utahime says, squinting upward.Â
Geto hums, a telltale sign that heâs about to launch into his typical ragebaiting. âIâm pretty sure sharks are fish though, so what do you mean by that?â
âOh come on, Geto. You know what I mean. Thereâs fish, and then thereâs shark. If I say fish, no one is picturing that. Theyâre thinking of, like, a normal fish. Small, swimmy, not that giant thing above our heads.âÂ
âSo now weâre racially profiling fish and sharks?â Geto pauses as if in deep thought. âSo then by your logic, is a stingray fish-looking fish or shark-looking fish.âÂ
âA stingray is its own thing,â Utahime snaps. âDonât piss me off in public.âÂ
âSeems complicated. Not very obvious then, is it?âÂ
On any other day, thereâd be nothing more joyous than joining in and annoying Utahime. Today, however, youâre still figuring out how to move around without being touched.Â
âAt least give yourself the chance to have a good time,â Shoko remarks from beside you, none too impressed with your sulky mood.Â
You know it isnât fair to her but to say youâre in a bad mood is an understatement. Every voice only serves to grind your gears and the way people shove past you here and there makes you want to rip off your skin.Â
Maybe because you got approximately no sleep. Maybe because your body still feels the phantom touch of another, the roughness in his voice as he utters your name all deprived and pleading. Maybe because Gojo is still six inches to your left, all long limbs and damp shadows under his eyes, and every time the crowd bottlenecks in the tunnel, you catch the faint clean scent of his soap like he took a shower earlier this morning.Â
The tunnel narrows as it curves, forcing all of you into an untidy line. Shoko and Utahime end up leading, Geto just behind them, pointing out silly little things that pisses her Utahime and makes Shoko laugh. You had slowed down for all of three seconds to let a family with two children pass and made the tactical error of allowing Gojo to fall into step beside you. Now the two of you are trapped by the flow of bodies moving through the tunnel at exactly the kind of sluggish, reverent pace that grates against your frayed nerves.
Above, something glides over the glass. The baby up ahead screams again, only louder, such that it echoes down the winding tunnel.
âSee, that wouldn't be a fish,â Geto is saying from up ahead.
You can hear utahime through the murmur of the crowd. âI figured.â
âCanât be too sure.â
There's another shuffle of people from up ahead as if the presence of the stingray is a thing to fawn over, a stop-start of prams and schoolbags and a father trying to explain in a stage whisper why no, his child cannot touch the stingray, and the whole line compresses.
Gojoâs shoulder brushes yours.
You stiffen before you can even try to pretend it had no effect on you and he shifts back, creating what little space he can in a tunnel full of tourists and toddlers. You can feel his hesitation without even looking at him, that careful slouching in on himself he's been doing all day.
âSorry,â he says quietly.Â
You donât bother with a response, looking in the opposite direction as if you had suddenly gained a deep appreciation for marine life.Â
Shoko glances back over her shoulder to make sure she hasnât lost either of you, and catches the way the two of you repel from each other. Her eyes flick from your face to Gojoâs, and narrow.Â
Great, so not only are you miserable, but now youâre probably going to get grilled.Â
âYou two are weirdly quiet,â she cleverly deduces.Â
âWeâre in an aquarium,â you reply. âThe whole point is to be quiet and to look at the fish. Or the sharks orâwhatever.âÂ
âAre you at least having fun?â she tries again, though judging from her look, itâs clear she already has an answer in mind.Â
âDefinitely,â you mumble at the same time Gojo says, âSo much fun.âÂ
You keep your mouth shut, refusing to look over at him. And Shoko, bless her patient heart, only tries again.Â
âWeâre about to reach the actual shark section. You love sharks, donât you, Y/N?â
âPartial at best.â
âOr we could divert to look at the rock pools and touch some starfish. Doesnât that sound like fun, Gojo?âÂ
âI guess.â He kicks at the ground, stubbornly glaring at the path.Â
Shoko rolls her eyes, dropping her gentle parenting act just as the tunnel begins to open up again. The two of you separate like magnets of the same charge when thereâs space to move, only heightening her annoyance.Â
âYou both are impossible! Youâre acting like kids! Letâs age check real quick, how long are you two going to keep up this silent treatment act for?â
Gojo sighs, running a hand through his hair. âCan you just drop it, Shoko? Itâs really none of your business.â
âWoah,â Shoko says. âGojoâs arrived.âÂ
âIâm serious.â He grits his teeth. âLeave it.â
Shoko looks over at you for your input but you keep quiet, hiding your own guilt by looking away. Youâre acting like a kid, you know you are, but itâs hard not to when you have this man child walking beside you.Â
And because Gojo has never won an argument against with Shoko, never has in the many, many years theyâve known each other, she grabs your hand and his arm and pulls you both together, positive versus positive charge be damned. You visibly flinch when his skin brushes yours, but her hands keep you together.Â
âI donât know what happened between you two,â she says, âbut youâre going to sort it out right here right now, you hear me? The shark section is up ahead. I donât care what happens in there, but when you walk out of it, youâre both going to get along. Understood?â
Gojo looks up from where heâs staring at the point of contact where your bodies touch.Â
âI said, understood?â Shoko presses, drawing you both closer.Â
You grimace and relent. âFine, fine. Just let go, wonât you?â
She doesnât, turning her fierce gaze to Gojo. âYour turn.â
âShoko,â he starts, but his eyes are fixed over her shoulder. âLet go.âÂ
âI wonât until you tell me the two of you are going to start behaving like adults again."Â
âShoko, seriouslyââ
âGojo, Iâm not letting go untilââ
You let out a frustrated exhale. âJust get it over with and say that you will.âÂ
âThatâs not it.âÂ
His voice sharpens so suddenly that the three of you freeze. His hand closes around your arm, knocking Shokoâs grip off him in one abrupt movement, and you almost wince at how tight his fingers are.Â
âDuck!âÂ
Considering youâre at an aquarium and not a zoo, his words confuse you. But the word barely leaves his mouth before the world ends, or at least the tunnel does.Â
One moment youâre upright and irritated, and the next youâre on the slick aquarium floor with Gojo half over you, his hand clamped around the back of your head as glass bursts somewhere overhead in a noise so violent it seems to deafen you. Water follows half a second later, a freezing, roaring wall of it that slams into your legs and floods the corridor in one breathless rush.Â
You gasp, inhaling panic with it. For one awful second, all you can see is dark water and something silver whipping past your face so quickly you canât process whether itâs debris or fish or some secret third option. Gojoâs arms tighten around you just before the current hits full force, shielding you from the bulk of it.Â
When the initial wave passes, he pushes himself up first, still braced over you, blinking the water from his eyes. âAre you okay? Actually, donât answer straight away because then youâre probably lying. Are you hurt?â
You stare at him for half a second with your chest heaving, before snapping back into your body. âI think so. Was that enough time to seem genuine?â
âYeah,â he says, then grabs your hand and hauls you upright with startling efficiency.Â
A jagged hole has been torn through the glass overhead and water is still pouring through in punishing sheets, waves upon waves lapping at your feet. You ignore it all.Â
âShoko!â you shout immediately. âUtahime? Guys?â
âWeâre here!â Shokoâs voice comes from somewhere to your right, thin through the alarms and the water. âWeâre all okay!â
Through the flashing red light and beyond a rush of water you canât imagine brushing past, you spot them.
Shoko has one arm around Utahimeâs waist and the other braced against the wall, her hair plastered to her face by spray. Utahime is upright, but only just, one hand pressed over her calf where blood is already mixing into the water in thin red ribbons. Suguru is beside them, shoving a fallen display sign out of the way so a knot of panicked visitors can force themselves toward the nearest exit.
âWeâre fine!â Geto yells. âUtahime got cut by the glass, but she can walk. Weâre heading for the side stairs.â
Shoko twists back, catches sight of you and Gojo still standing there, and immediately cups her hands around her mouth. âWhat are you two doing? Move! I paid money for this outing and frankly Iâd like at least four of us to live!â
Before either of you can answer, something booms deeper in the aquarium hard enough to rattle the glass beneath your feet. All around you, people are still trying to push toward the exits in a mess of uncoordinated panic. One aquarium staff member is shouting for everyone to stay calm in a voice already fraying at the edges and thereâs a child sobbing somewhere to your right. Another tank further down the hall has cracked into a spiderweb of fractures that spread wider with every violent thud from beyond.
Gojo tenses, sensing something you canât before he turns to you, hands on your shoulders. âGet to the exit.â
âRight, okay,â you say automatically, already reaching for his hand to drag him with you. Your fingers slide around his wrist and tug. âCome on.â
He doesnât move.
You look back at him. âWhat are you doing?â
âYou go with them,â he says, already looking past you toward the ruined hall. âIâll follow after you.â
You stare at him in disbelief. âUm, no?â
Your voice comes out louder than you mean it to, sharpened by the cold and the adrenaline and the immediate, furious certainty that no, absolutely not, you are not doing this with him again. Not here, not now, not when the floor is flooding and the walls are breaking and he still thinks he can look you in the face and say Iâll follow after like you were born yesterday.
âDo you have a death wish?â you demand. âCome on, the water is rising!â
âLook, I can handle myself.â His fingers tighten once against your shoulder, almost pleading. âI know what Iâm doing so just wait outside. Don't worry about me and go.â
It is such a stupid thing to say that for a second you can only look at him.
Donât worry about me.
As if that has ever worked. As if you havenât spent weeks trying to ignore him and failing every single time. As if he hasnât somehow made himself your problem since the moment he had called your grade out in the middle of that irrelevant tutorial room.
You glare at him, at his stupid fluffy white hair gone damp at the edges, at the thick-framed glasses he always pushes up his nose when he starts rambling about something ridiculous, at the stupid blue eyes that seem to shift colour with his mood and are now fixed on the corridor behind you instead of properly on you.
âI canât,â you say.
His head snaps back to yours. âWhat?â
âI canât just ignore you.â The words come out thinner than you want them to, but thereâs no taking them back now. âIâve tried and I just canât.â
âThis isnât the time for that,â he says, brows furrowed in that way he gets when heâs annoyed.âDonât be ridiculous, you could get hurt.â
âYou could get hurt.â
âThatâs different.â
âIs it?â you scoff before looking back at him. âYou know what your problem is?â
He rolls his eyes with a sigh. âOh, here we go. Tell me, tell me what my problem isââ
âOh, I will. Iâll tell you what your fucking problem isââ
âOh yeah, youâll tell me? Cause you know me better than I know myself?âÂ
âSomeone has to,â you snap, stepping toward him, daring him to take a step back. âBecause clearly youâve got no clue what youâre doing. Not with this, not with women, certainly not with me.â
He exhales. âYeah? Well, youâre stuck up and impossible to control and you piss me off.â
âAre you a kid? You sound so dumb right nowââ
A crash tears through the corridor hard enough to shake the ground beneath your feet and whatever insult youâve both had gearing up immediately dies. You both look toward the corridor then to each other.Â
âProbably not the best time for this,â you say.Â
âYeah,â he says. âLetâs shelf this for later.â
âIâm still not going to ditch you so get that through your thick skull and whatever vast air bubble hugs your brain.âÂ
For one ridiculous second, despite the alarms and the flooding and the horrifying sounds of public infrastructure being turned inside out, Gojo actually looks like he wants to laugh.Â
âDid you just call me an air head?â he asks, the words breathless and almost fond. âYouâre never going to make things easy for me, are you?âÂ
You shoot him an incredulous look. âPeople are dying, Satoru. Lock in. Whatâs the plan?âÂ
He shakes his head like a dog.Â
âOkay,â he says, back in motion now, words quick and sharp and all business because he clearly doesnât trust himself to stay in the other mode any longer. âNew plan. We get everyone we can to the exit, and then if you still want to tell me what my problem is, Iâll stand there and let you monologue. But donât leave my sight and donât try to be self-sacrificing.âÂ
âYouâre telling me?â You snort. âSays the guy who was just about to run off and do exactly that.â
You brush past him, heading towards the tunnel where the sound originated.Â
Despite every instinct telling him to grab you and pull you out, Gojo finds himself just standing there. Heâs always been weak to you, this revelation is not one that comes with any surprise. All youâve ever really had to do was look at himâproperly look at him, with that sharp little glare that says heâs annoyed you againâand some pathetic part of him was already halfway to heel, tail practically wagging. Itâs degrading almost, the Spiderman, reduced to nothing but a desperate man in love, but for some reason Gojo canât find himself hating it completely. That was just how far he had fallen.
He drags a hand through his hair and exhales sharply through his nose as he catches up behind you. The mask in his pocket feels impossibly heavy, like it knows better than he does, like itâs already calling him toward the moment heâs been putting off for too long. But he doesn't yet, and settles instead for following behind, every muscle bracing for the second this goes wrong.Â
You are having much less sophisticated thoughts.
You wonder to yourself as you trudge through the ankle deep water, what the fuck are you doing?
Your shoes are full of cold, disgusting salt water and what is, realistically, probably fish shit, when the safe outside had been right there within reach moments ago. You could have left. You could have gone with Shoko and Utahime and Geto and let the staff and the police and whoever else handles aquarium disasters deal with the rest. Instead, you had willingly walked back into where disaster struck. And for what? A boy?
Well, you think. At least you have the experience of fighting off two villains now. One and a half. Okay, more like two halves. That made one. So youâve had one (1) moment of experience. That was enough, right?Â
âDonât worry,â you tell Gojo, noticing his uncharacteristic silence. âIf anything happens, Iâll protect you.â
He opens his mouth to reply, but whatever smart thing he had lined up dies the second the tunnel widens into the main shark gallery.
A man in a torn aquarium polo staggers through the burst corridor with black slick crawling up one arm and along the side of his throat, jerking in wet, ugly pulses under the emergency lights. A member of staff, who looks maybe nineteen and one bad shift away from quitting forever, is trying to wave people toward the side exit while very obviously trying not to cry.
Gojo is already moving, ignoring the way the room shudders when the symbiote host slams his fist into a pillar.
âIâm going to distract it so the people have time to get out of here. Stay here or go help them but do not get in the way.âÂ
He doesnât check to see if youâll agree before grabbing the nearest floating wet floor sign and hurling it at the manâs face with a pitcherâs accuracy. It smacks the figureâs shoulder and bounces away harmlessly, but it does the important thing.Â
The ex-aquarium staff turns toward him and subsequently, you.Â
âOkay,â you mutter, already moving. âLooks like youâve got it from here!â
The host makes a low, distorted sound, half growl and half wet static, and barrels toward Gojo with one blackened arm swelling grotesquely around the elbow. Gojo ducks the first swing, grabs the edge of an overturned brochure stand, and yanks it into the path of the next. It shatters immediately, but the delay buys the nearest cluster of trapped visitors just enough time to break into motion.
You hurry to the sobbing staff member, a girl with her short black hair tied to one side, two hair clips holding her bangs away from her eyes. âHey, hey, itâs okay! Just think of all the hazard pay youâll get after this. For now, grab those two and head to the side exit.âÂ
She blinks at you, tears still flowing freely down her cheeks, but eventually nods. âWhat about you?âÂ
You jab a thumb behind you. âIâm kind of stuck here with this idiot. Now hurry.âÂ
Behind you, thereâs a huge crash followed by Gojo saying, âYou know, this is why no one likes staff team building exercises. Thereâs always one guy who takes it too far.â
The villain seems to not enjoy Gojoâs commentary because it roars. You turn in time to see Gojo skid sideways through the floodwater, one hand catching the low railing to keep from going down entirely. The black slick lashes for him again and misses, carving a line of ugly cracks through the decorative panel behind him instead.Â
Itâs not hard to tell that Gojo is losing and in fact, youâd be severely deluded if your nerd situationship sort-of close friend would win against a seemingly inhuman sentient black goo. At least he isnât losing without dignity. He makes valiant attempts to shove the thing back a step, ducking under a swing only for the next to catch him high in the shoulder and throw him sideways into the viewing rail.Â
Your heart drops to your ass quick, watching as Gojo drives himself back upright with a wince and a desperate glare for you to stay there.Â
The symbiote host lurches toward him again, blackened arm distending with a wet, horrific ripple.Â
Your brain finally catches up.Â
Okay. Okay, think.Â
You have seen this stupid black goo twice before now, which feels like two times too many. The first time, you used a fire extinguisher. The second, the steam wand from the cafe had done enough to make the goo retreat. So this thing clearly does not enjoy pressure or heat.Â
You spin in place, eyes skittering wildly over the wrecked shark gallery.Â
Thereâs debris everywhere, broken signage, upside down benches and a cardboard cutout of some mascot shark swims past you in ankle deep water. Thereâs a staff-only closet near the back, more brochure stands, maps on the wall, when your eyes finally see it. There, near the entrance of the tunnel, is a thick industrial hose line feeding into one of the side filtration systems, its pressure valve mounted low on the wall, bright red against the blue gloom.Â
One of the sanitation steam lines that run along the upper maintenance track has ruptured where debris struck, hissing softly in the rumble of the crumbling aquarium. White vapour coughs out in fitful bursts, weak now but still there.Â
âSatoru!â
He glances your way at the exact second the host slams him in the chest, sending him skidding through the water on his back. You wince. âOh, sorry. Whenever you have the time.â
âIâm fine,â he chokes out, rolling out of the way in time to avoid a second blow. âThanks for asking.â
You splash toward the pressure valve, shoes slipping against the tiles. âShut up and use the environment! Thereâs a pressurised line here and steam up there. Youâre just going to have to trust me on this one but I think I have an idea!â
The host, as if sensing your plan, turns towards you. Gojo curses, any sarcasm vanishing in an instant.Â
âNo! Donât get closer!â
âToo late!â you yell back, already grabbing the valve wheel. âYouâre getting your ass beat, Satoru, Iâm not going to stand here and just let your ego handle it!âÂ
He rises to his feet, running to you though in the water, itâs only a pathetic sloshing that almost gives you the ick. âMy ego? And you think your pride will handle it any better?â
No.Â
âYes!âÂ
You wrench at the valve and, because your life has always been full of miracles and good fortune, nothing happens.Â
The host lunges in your direction again. Gojo catches him from the side, arm hooking around his neck for one desperate second before the black slick ripples up and flings him off. He crashes shoulder-first into the low barrier by the shark viewing glass.
He gasps and coughs, eyes blearily finding yours. âGetâget out of here. Now, Y/N.â
âIâm not giving up.â You brace one foot against the wall. âNo pressure, literally.â
You yank at the wheel again but nothing still happens. Thereâs got to be a safety catch, a pin or latch or something. Your eyes dart over the assembly frantically even as the figure draws itself back on its legs.Â
âY/N!â Gojo calls out again, water sloshing around his body as he tries to follow.Â
Your eyes skim frantically over the valve housing, over rusted bolts and warped metal and a tangle of pipes slick with spray, until they finally catch on a metal locking pin bent half-flat against the side.
Without another thought, you lunge for it and wrap both hands around the pin.Â
Behind you, thereâs a sharp, ugly soundâGojo sucking in a breath through his teethâfollowed by the violent splash of him slamming back into the host. You risk a glance over your shoulder just in time to see him catch the thing by the arm, twist with the momentum, and drive a punch into its face hard enough to make black slick spray across the floodwater.
Pulse spiking, you put your whole weight into the pin. And finally, it gives all at once, slipping free so suddenly you nearly fall backward into the floorwater.Â
âGot you!â you hiss at the valve before throwing yourself against the wheel.Â
This time, it turns. The line shudders to life with a deep, violent thump and water pressure surges through the pipes hard enough to rattle the wall.Â
âSatoru!â you shout, looking up wildly. âTo your left! Bring him here!âÂ
He turns his head fast, sees the line, sees you, and somehow understands immediately despite looking one bad hit away from passing out. You suppose he isnât a genius for nothing.
Gojo stands with more purpose, moving in a tight arc through the floodwater, letting the thing follow. His movements are messier than they should be, attributed to the wounds heâs sustained. You can see it every time he favours his right side, every time his mouth tightens with every dodge.Â
But he still keeps moving, still keeping the thin on him, keeping it away from you. Trusting your ridiculous plan that was concocted in under a minute.Â
âCome on,â he calls, breathless and taunting all at once. âCome on and get me, you big ugly thing. Iâve had worse nights.â
The host lunges under the broken steam line.Â
âNow!â you shout, a command for just yourself really, and crank the pressure line open fully.Â
A brutal blast of high-pressure water erupts across the gallery and catches the host broadside, slamming into its blackened shoulder and neck with enough force to wrench it half off its feet. At the same time, a fresh burst of steam hisses from overhead where the damaged line gives way under the renewed vibration. And just as youâd hoped, the black slick convulses.
It peels back in twitching bands from the hostâs throat and shoulder, recoiling from the steam with an ugly, wet shiver. It starts to back away on unsteady feet.Â
âThere!â you yell, voice cracking with triumph and panic all at once. âAgain, use it again!â
Gojo doesnât hesitate. He grabs the dangling steam pipe with both hands and yanks hard enough to shear the remaining bracket loose. The line drops lower, shrieking vapour across the hostâs side.
The thingânot the man, but the thingâlets out a shrill cry, a sound so wrong it feels like it goes through your bones instead of your ears.
Gojo uses the opening immediately, slamming his shoulder into the hostâs chest and driving him back into the support beam beside the shark viewing glass. The whole gallery shudders under the impact, but this time the host goes down hard, knees buckling under him as the black slick writhes and spasms under the steam.
You donât realise youâve moved until youâre already splashing toward him, relief making you stupid and light all at once. In your head, it should have been graceful, some dramatic run into his arms after shared survival and mutual competence. In reality, the water turns it into a pathetic, uneven waddle that Gojo, in an act of true mercy, only pretends not to notice.
âWe did it!â you say, breathless and bright with adrenaline. âThat was insane, but we did it. And Iâm taking at least seventy percent of the credit, by the way, because without me you were just getting beaten up in a public aquariumââ
He smiles, just barely, and turns to look at you.
âYeah,â he says, chest heaving. âI guess weââ
Something moves in the corner of his eye.
It isnât the frantic, wild sort of movement from before, but something uglier for how deliberate it feels. A last-ditch effort. The host drags one arm free of the steam and the floodwater just enough for the black slick to surge violently down its length and gather into one long, brutal lash of muscle and tar.
It comes not for Gojo, but for you.
Gojo sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, his whole face changing before you can even register why. His mouth opens around the start of your name, warning already there, panic rising faster than the sound can leave him.
You are still a few crucial seconds behind.
By the time you catch the movement in your peripheral vision and start to turn, Gojo is already lunging forward. But the thing is too fast, the distance too wrong, and you can see the exact instant he realises he wonât make it to you in time as himself.
You turn just enough to see it.
Ah.
So this is how stupid people die.
Something white snaps through the air.
The strike jerks violently sideways before it can hit you, yanked off course so hard it slams into the side wall instead, cracking the tile with a wet, horrible impact. A scream tears from your throat, loud and sharp in the aftermath, but the thing barely registers to you now, not even when the goo gives one last shudder and forms something like a trembling fist aimed in your direction.
You donât care about that anymore.
Instead, your eyes track the white line stretched taut across the gallery.
You follow it all the way back.
All the way to Gojo.
He stands there with his arm still half outstretched. His face is stricken with lingering panic, but there is something else there too, something like resignation, like he knows whatever happens next might end his world right here in a crumbling aquarium.
You look from his face to his wrist and then back again.
âWhat,â you say, finding no other words that fit the moment. âWhat the fuck.â
Gojo lowers his arm very slowly. Water drips from his sleeve, from his fingers, from the impossible thin connecting him to the wall beside you.Â
âThis is not how I wanted to tell you,â he says, his voice suddenly rough in a way you recognise far too well.
The host roars, and itâs that sound that snaps both of you back into motion.
Gojoâs hand goes to his pocket and comes back with the maskâof course itâs the mask. Blue and white, worn at the edges, and, hell, maybe youâre hallucinating now, but is that still the little tear you left in the fabric that night?
He hesitates just before pulling it over his head, eyes darting back to you as he says, âPlease wait for me. Just this once, please wait.â
There is no time to process the fact that his eyes look almost frightened. No time to process the fact that the voice youâve heard in your ear and the voice that has said your name in two different ways now belong to the same infuriating man. There is really no time to process anything at all.
So, shockingly, you do the mature thing.
You nod.
âOkay,â you say, and your voice sounds strange to your own ears. âOkay. Go.â
You watch as Gojo stares at you, hopeless and pleading all at once, the mask slipping over his face. But now that youâve seen himâseen him bare and vulnerable and desperately hopingâthe blue and white can no longer hide it.
Spider-Man keeps looking at you even as he slings onto the adjacent wall, the sticky material catching with a faint smack.
âIâm going to explain everything,â he says. âI promise. Justâplease. Please still be here when I come back.â
He doesnât wait for your response, not properly. Maybe because heâs worried whatever words leave your gaping mouth will be a rejection. Maybe because if he waits another second, heâll stay here looking at you until the whole room caves in around you.Â
Spiderman slings out onto the adjacent wall, the web catching with a faint, sticky smack, and for one absurd second all you can think is that even upside down and half-bleeding heâs still showy.Â
Then he launches and whatever restraint Gojo had been fighting with until now is gone.Â
The host lunges towards you but you donât flinch. Thereâs simply no fight in your body anymore. Not that it matters because Spiderman meets him in the centre of the gallery.Â
What had looked clumsy and desperate when Gojo was still trying to pass for your average citizen becomes something else entirely now that heâs abandoned his facade. His body understands the room in ways you never could, every rail, every shattered edge, every unstable surface becomes a part of him when the web attaches to it, part of the fight. He lips under the hostâs first strike and plants a hand against the flood tile, driving both feet into its chest hard enough to send it skidding backward through the water.Â
He flicks his wrists out before the host can recover, pinning one arm to a fractured support beam, another line catching its ankle.Â
The black slick surges and peels away from the first web, but it's too slow. Spiderman is already gone from where he was, slinging upward into the steam and dropping back down from above with enough force to slam the hose into the floor.Â
The black mass writhes and lashes and tries to reform over the hostâs body, but now there is no hesitation in the man fighting it, no room left for restraint. Spiderman moves with frightening precision, using every opening, every recoil, every half-second where the thing peels back under heat and sound. He webs one wrist, then the throat, then the opposite shoulder, dragging the host back into the pressure line each time he tears free. The slick recoils violently, shrieking, trying and failing to hold together.
Was it just you but did it look like Gojo was taking his frustration out on this thing?Â
Your mind keeps trying and failing to fit the pieces together. It all comes together anyway, the way Gojo had always disappeared at the wrong times, the way Spidermanâs voice had felt familiar even when you told yourself that was ridiculous and known things about you he couldnât have. The way he touched you, the way the other never quite did, not completely, as if afraid of what would happen if he started.Â
All of it was him. Every humiliating, infuriating, impossible piece of it.Â
The host tears free one last time, black goo surging over his chest in a final desperate wave. But by now, it should learn that doing something over and over again is a sign of insanity because Spiderman is already there.Â
A webline catches high overhead and with a yank, the hanging steam pipe drops lower. Another shot takes the alarm cable and rips it loose in a shower of sparks. He drives forward, one hand wrapped around his web, the other braced against the hostâs chest, and hurls him back into the flooded floor beneath the full force of the steam.Â
The black mass writhes and shrieks then tears free all at once. It peels from the manâs body in one final, violent shudder and streaks away through the fractured wall paneling, vanishing into the dark beyond the gallery even as Spiderman attempts to stop it.Â
Then the host collapses, dead.Â
Then nothing. Of course, not complete silence as the alarms still ring and water still drips. But between the two of you, across the room now suddenly empty of the thing that had stood there, there is a different kind of stillness.Â
Spiderman straightens slowly. He stands in front of the steam and the ruin and the broken shark glass, chest heaving, mask still over the face you now know too well, and even from here you can see the way his body sags just slightly under the cost of what heâs just done.
You stare at each other, the gap between endlessly vast until you decide to close it.Â
Your shoes drag through the floodwater, sending up ugly little splashes with every step, and by the time you reach him, any dignity you might have salvaged from the reveal is long dead and buried beneath three inches of fish water. He stands there waiting, one hand hanging at his side while the other presses hard against his ribs.Â
Your hands fist the front of his hoodie and he lets you.
âYou are the biggest liar I have ever met in my entire life,â you say, voice trembling with the weight of everything.Â
SpidermanâGojoâlets out a weak laugh. âThat sounds about right.â
You yank the mask up without another word.Â
It catches for half a second on his nose before sliding free, damp and warm in your hand, and there he is. Just Satoru now. Heâs pale, soaked through, hair plastered to his forehead, lips parted around the hard pull of his breathing. Thereâs blood at the corner of his mouth and more blooming darkly beneath his hoodie where heâd been hit, but his eyes are on you and only you with that same awful, naked openness they had before he put the mask on.
âSatoru,â you say, and his name comes out rough, almost wounded.
His eyes lift to yours at once, terrified of what he might find there.Â
You slap him. And honestly, compared to everything he went through less than a minute ago, compared to what he deals with everyday, youâd call the slap a puny, pathetic hit. Still, the hand from his side flies up to cup his cheek, looking more startled than in pain.Â
âThat,â you start,â is for lying to me.â
He gapes at you wordlessly.Â
Then all at once, the rest of it rises inside youâthe fear, the relief, the horrible rush of seeing that black strike coming at you and knowing, with perfect clarity, that Gojo would throw it all away to save you, even if it meant revealing his identity.Â
You lift your hand again but this time not to strike. Instead, your fingers brush his jaw, trembling against the damp skin there, tracing the shape of him you thought you knew so well. You feel his pulse leap, hear his breath catch.Â
âThis,â you whisper, steadier now that you know this is what you want, âis for saving me.âÂ
You go up on your tippy toes, lean forward, and kiss him.Â
Gojo freezes, arms held out in the air as he pieces together the scene. Youâre not mad, well maybe youâre mad, but youâre over that now because youâre kissing him. Wait, youâre kissing him? Then what is he doing just standing there?Â
A soft, startled sound escapes him, swallowed immediately by your mouth, before heâs drowning in it. The kiss turns desperate, all relief and fear and weeks of restrained feeling collapsing into one reckless, aching moment.Â
One wraps around your waist and the other catches at your back, hauling you flush against him with desperation. You feel the wound in his ribs in the way his body tightens, the way his breath catches sharply through his nose, but he ignores it completely, pressing you closer like he needs the proof of you there, solid and real and choosing him.
When you finally pull back, itâs only because breathing becomes a necessity again.Â
His forehead knocks against yours, his eyes fluttering close as he rests there, panting.Â
The alarms are still going off somewhere beyond the ruined gallery. Water still laps around your ankles, cold and foul and full of things you would rather not identify. Security is shouting in the distance, voices getting closer, but here, in this stupid little pocket of aftermath, the world has narrowed down to the heat of his hands on you and the shape of his breath fanning over your mouth.
When he finally opens his eyes again, he looks a little dazed. Not concussed, though probably that too.
âYou kissed me,â he says, and his voice comes out low and rough and almost disbelieving. âAfter everything?â
You stare at him. âDo you want me to take it back?â
His hands tighten instinctively at your waist. âNo!â The answer leaves him quickly before he swallows, eyes flickering over your face to gauge your response. âNo, please donât do that.âÂ
âIâm still angry at you, you know.âÂ
âI know.â
âYou lied to me.â
âI know.â
âYou kept lying to me.â You stop. âYou also knew. This entire time you knew and you just played me twice over.âÂ
He winces a little at that. âYeah. That oneâs harder to defend.â
His gaze drops to your mouth for half a second before climbing back to your eyes, slower this time, more careful.
âI kept thinking thereâd be a better time to tell you,â he says. âA version of this where I could do it right. Then every time I almost said something, it got harder because the longer I waited, the worse it got, and I knew that. I knew I was making it worse, I justâI was scared. It was easier for me that way but I also know it was cowardly and Iâm sorry.â
You nod once. âAnd?âÂ
âAnd?â he repeats before he catches the disapproving look in your eyes and starts scrambling for more. âAnd⊠Iâm sorry forâwell. Actually Iâm not sorry about that part.â
You hit him lightly on the arm. âSay youâre sorry for deceiving me.â
âRight, right. Sorry for deceiving you.âÂ
âAnd that you wonât do it again.âÂ
âAnd I wonât have sex with you in the Spiderman suit again.â
You hit him again but your mouth twitches before you can stop it, the familiarity of the banter easing the uncertainty. He catches it, of course, that tiny almost-smile, and his expression softens.
âI really am sorry,â he says again. âFor all of it. The disappearing. The missed presentation. The lies. Being me, I guess.â
âBeing you is, unfortunately, one of your biggest issues.â You pause, eyes flickering down to his lips. âBut I think Iâm willing to work around that one.âÂ
You watch his eyes drop to your mouth in turn, watch the decision happen in him, quiet and unmistakable. He leans in first this time, just enough for his breath to warm your lips, just enough to make your pulse trip over itselfâ
âTheyâre in here somewhere!â
The shout tears through the gallery from the corridor behind you, followed immediately by the unmistakable chaos of multiple people splashing through floodwater at once.
âPlease save them!â
âUtahime,â Suguruâs voice says, strained and much closer now, âif you scream at the police one more time, theyâre going to leave us hereââ
You jerk back so fast you nearly headbutt him and then his maybe concussion would have been a definite one.
Gojo blinks at you, dazed and breathing hard, his mouth still parted from the kiss you almost had before he too regains his senses and pulls back just enough to stop sharing the same air. Then, the both of you turn to that tunnel.
Utahime barrels into the gallery first, wild-eyed and soaked,hands cupping around her mouth as she calls your names, the wound on her leg now wrapped up. Shoko walks in right behind her with a tight expression that immediately crumbles at the scene. Geto is just behind them followed by two officers and what appears to be the entire remaining aquarium emergency staff.
You shove the mask still in your hand into your pocket, fingers fumbling once against the wet fabric, but donât do much more to break away from the incriminating position. His hand is still on your waist, your own fingers are still hooked into the front of his hoodie, and your chest is pressed flush against his.Â
Shoko is the first to say something. âWell. I guess you guys did make up after all.âÂ
âDid this happen before or after you took the crazy madman down?â Utahime says, deciding that is the most important detail to clarify.Â
âAre you two not done yet or should we come back in a bit?âÂ
Itâs Getoâs words that finally has you pulling apart, blushing madly and eyes looking frantically away from each other.
And when the police finally reach the two of you, shouting over one another and very tactfully ignoring your swollen lips, you feel something brush against your hand. Gojoâs fingers curl carefully around yours, warm and tentative despite everything, and, more importantly, despite the very audible snickering coming from your right where your friends have been herded aside to let the officers work, you lace your fingers through his without hesitation.
Because with Gojoâs thumb brushing against the side of your hand while an officer asks if either of you can walk unassisted, itâs hard to feel like the world is ending anymore. You had spent so long acting like meeting Gojo Satoru on March 15th at 10:12am was the beginning of your personal apocalypse. Granted, he is still infuriating and he is still a liar. But standing there in a flooded aquarium with his hand in yours and his blood on his shirt and a superhero mask hidden in your pocket, you canât help thinking maybe youâd been a little dramatic.
Or maybe not. Maybe the world really had ended when you met Gojo Satoru. Itâs just that, now that youâve survived the aftermath, youâre starting to think the next one might be better.
a/n: PHEWW thank u for making it to the end! this has been the unwanted child in my drafts for three whole years and rewriting it was a pain considering how unfunny i was but if thereâs one less lonely girl in the world then itâs worth it <3 this was a lot longer but i had to cut down for tumblrâs character limit âčïž rip to all the shoko + utahime silly scenes and the injured spiderman scene and the lab satoru scene and theâ[GUNSHOT] regardless !! shoutout to flatline as always and to all the national days we missed the deadlines to <3 see you guys on the 28th for national burger day on this fine burger month đ
Synopsis: When you return to your hometown to visit your aunt for the summer, you plan on finding a suitor and marrying into money the way your family has prophesied for you for years. You just donât expect that suitor to be Gojo Satoru, cocky, popular country artist and heartthrob. And the man whose heart you broke years ago after he got you pregnant. You werenât ready for his world then and you tell yourself that youâre not now. But when he offers you a friendly drink after his show, how can you refuse the starlit hottie? And how will you tell him that heâs the father of your child?Â
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse AU; Small Town Romance AU; Country Boy!Reader x Country to City Girl!Reader; Exes to Lovers; College Romance Trope; Accidental Pregnancy; T/W for Abortion Talk; Highkey Flirting; Sexual Tension; Love Confession; Public Sex; Outdoor Sex; Cunnilingus; Mommy Bod Worship; Sundress Season; Spanking; Tittyfuck; Deepthroat; Riding; Fucking From Bottom; Mating Press; Daddy Kink; Tongue Piercing; Dick Piercing; Switch!Gojo x Switch!Reader; Breeding Kink; Raw Creampie; Aftercare
Word Count: 13.4k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!Â
Writer's Note: I finished this early lmaooo so here's my VERY FIRST INSTALLMENT FOR MY GOOD BELLE SERIES!!! I hope y'all enjoy reading!! <3 -love, Jazz
Credits: Gojo art above by 1004_shvn! Dividers by @chachachannah & @kodaswrld!
Read on AO3 HERE!
âUtahime, why the hell are we at a concert venue? You said we were goinâ out to dinner!âÂ
You sit next to your friend in the concert venue, somewhere close to the front on the ground level but not quite dead in front of the stage. You glare at the long-haired girl among the crowd of eager country fans in their cowboy hats and boots, mostly women and girls, from high school students to college girls to older ladies in their golden years.Â
âWe just did!â Utahime protests, barely looking away from teasing her long, black locks in her phone under her cowboy hat that she bought from the merch station. âA very hearty steak dinner if I can remember correctly. Those BuzzBallz are talkinâ to me.âÂ
The BuzzBallz she consumed in your Uber ride on the way to the concert that she didnât tell you about when you thought you were going to see a movie. You shouldâve known something was up since Utahime was wearing her sexy halter top, denim mini skirt, and told you to dress in your âMILFy bestâ for tonightâs festivities.Â
You threw on your favorite wedges and sundress for the occasion, the kind with spaghetti straps and skater ruffles that compliment your curves given to you by your baby. Why didnât you question Utahime then? âOh, no, no,â you groan, pinching your sinuses. âMy aunt is gonna kill me! She thinks weâre out havinâ a fancy, quiet dinner and a movie!âÂ
That was why you aunt had you take a break from her âlessonsâ about finding a suitable husbandâlessons that included attending endless parties around your small town in the upper crust world of Southern society with your daughter in tow (for some anyway; for others, your aunt had her personal maid watch her).Â
âAnd she can still think that!â Utahime argues, wrapping an arm around her neck. âIf you look at it my way, this is a movieâŠjust with a really hot country singer in his jeans flexinâ his cute butt and his big dââÂ
âUtahime,â you firmly say, cutting her off. âDonât even. My aunt would have your head if she found out how you were talkinâ to her niece.â Your friend laughs, waving off your warning. âOh, please! That woman adores me!âÂ
And itâs true. Your aunt doesnât like many people in this world, but she likes your longtime friend Utahime. She considers Utahime to be someone that was 100% there for you during your pre material pregnancy and the dark time afterwards fueled by postpartum depression and transiting from small town to city life.Â
âPlus, this will getcha a chance to come out and have some fun, girl,â she giggles with a wink at you. âAnd find your pretty ass a suitor. Ya think your folks will appreciate any of the fine cowboys in this crowd?âÂ
âPlease,â you chuckle and take a sip of your beer, feeling the alcoholâs affects; you had a BuzzBall in the car so you feel a slight throb and a comfortable flush. âMy aunt is lookinâ for the highest payinâ bidder for me and mine. If he wants me then heâs gonna have to want my baby too.âÂ
Utahime applauds that, raising her beer high. âOooh, so we cruisinâ for a brand new daddy for little Tara too! Iâm on board!âÂ
Then you feel your phone vibrate in her crossbody, already knowing who it is. âSpeakinâ of whichâŠâ You answer the phone, smiling. âHey, Auntie!â you shout. âHowâsââÂ
âY/N, where ever are the juice boxes you provided for Tara?â she immediately snaps, her Southern accent twinging her words. You have to hold the phone away from your ear because of how loud she is. âShe keeps askinâ for me these God-forsaken apple juice packages!âÂ
You giggle at your daughterâs antics, knowing your aunt would have her hands full with the little 5-year old. âCheck her Hello Kitty duffle in the guest room. Itâs full of her snacks.âÂ
Your aunt scoffs, ever the haughty older Southern belle through and through, wearing her church hats and every piece of jewelry she owns. âYouâre spoilinâ this child too much, you know. Soon, sheâll be as plump as a tomato and hard to control!âÂ
You roll your eyes at her lecture, knowing damn well your aunt insisted you bring Tara along for the trip to her estate for the summer. Your aunt spoils everything she loves, including her poodles. âIâll keep that in mind, Auntie. Sorry.âÂ
There is a sudden whoop from the background and a beer bottle breaking, making you flinch. âWhat was that?â she asks. You feel your blood run cold and quickly, you look for an escape. âNothinâ, Auntie! Gotta go, love you and Tara-bear, bye bye!â Then you hang up and huff in relief. âThat was close. I was in for an earful.âÂ
An earful about how being at a concert with a bunch of drunks and girls in daisy dukes isnât âproperâ. Your aunt is very old schoolâand rather internally misogynisticâ, so she swears up and down that to be a sophisticated young woman in high society is the way to get menâŠat least the type of men she and your folks are trying to pair you with.Â
Doctors, lawyers, politicians, councilmen, etc. You only went along with this trip not in the hopes of finding a respectable man to eventually marry but to come back home and get out of the city for the summer season. And to finally hush up your folks who keep asking you, âY/N, when are you gonna find a daddy for Tara and get married?â Not that you told your aunt this though.Â
âWell, sheâll be less rough with you once we getcha a new man.â Utahime wiggles her eyebrows at you while you just sigh, pinching your sinuses. âI donât even know why I agreed to this, Utahime. I ainât interested in no man but my family swears itâll benefit me and Skylar.âÂ
âThen maybe you should trust âem,â Utahime suggests with a comforting smile. âCity men are different from the ones here, honey. You know that!â When she turns away to take photos of the stage, you frown at her statement, thinking of one Southern man in particular. âTell me about it,â you grumble.Â
Luckily, she doesnât hear you. âAnd if you donât get a relationship or a shiny diamond ring, thereâs always somethinâ else you can get out of a Southern man here.â She gives you an not-so-friendly smirk thatâs so suggestive that it would make a nun blush. âShut up, you slut,â you snort. âYouâre so nasty.âÂ
âLady, whenâs the last time you got yourself some dick, girl?â she scoffs. âSeriously! Youâre a fuckinâ MILF and no city guys were bustinâ your door in?âÂ
âA woman with a kid ainât as hot as you think,â you laugh. âAnd besides, I wasnât interested. I only came here to get out of the city and introduce my daughter to my hometown.âÂ
Utahime is that friend that swears that sex is the answer to everything, especially sex with no strings attached. Though she is a romantic like you, she participates in weekend hookups and swimming through dating apps for her latest catch of the night.Â
You used to do the same, but after realizing how fucking weird men act around women with kidsâeither fetishizing them or ghosting them entirelyâ, you decided that you were better suited to be alone. However, you canât deny the loneliness that creeps in late at night when Tara is fast asleep and itâs only you.Â
No school, no PTA meetings, no trips to the ice cream parlor or the park to keep your 5-year old occupied during the summer. Just you and your tiger strips, full breasts, thick thighs, and an aching need for companionship and affection.Â
âWell, just think about it,â Utahime says, tossing an arm around you. âAnd have some fun tonight! You deserve some time off from beinâ a mommy!âÂ
You smile, raising your beer to match hers. âCheers,â you giggle, clinking your beer bottle with hers. You turn back to the stage, noticing that instruments have been set up and the staff is done testing the pyro, smoke machines, and the microphones. âNow whereâs this heartthrob everybodyâs here for? Who is he anyway?âÂ
Utahime looks excited to tell you. âYou remember that kid from homeroom back in college?â she asks. âThe one who left for California after we graduated?âÂ
But before you can answer her, the lights shut off and the entire venue explodes in frenzied cheering and excited screams that make you cover your ears where your gold hoop earrings dangle. Even Utahime is screaming, holding her phone up to record.
âLadies and gents!â a disembodied female voice yells into the mic. âIntroducinâ the one youâve all been waitinâ so patiently forâŠthe heartthrob with the ocean bluesâŠthe reason for âeverythinâ is big in Texasâ...Gojo Satoru!âÂ
WaitâŠGojo Satoru? Your Gojo Satoru? The man whose heart you broke into two all those years ago before you left for the city? âOh, no,â you gasp. Utahime looks over at you, concerned. âWhatâs wrong?â she asks.Â
You canât answer her. It feels like there is a ball in your throat that wonât go away no matter how much you swallow. It only gets worse when the man youâve been thinking about for five years pops out of the stage in the most sinfully tight denim jeans and white tank top known to man, each muscle on full display.Â
He wears a leather jacket with a black cowboy hat and matching boots with his outfit along with dangling dog tags that he used to wear back in college when you started secretly dating. He has ditched the glasses, now wearing contacts that make those intense, attractive blues pop, and he is so confident and self-assured whereas in college, he was just putting on a front. Â
He was the small-town college boy who played guitar during his free time and had big dreams of being a singer. Dreams that you believed in. But when he started getting recognized after blowing up on YouTube and asked you to come with him to California when he got a record deal, you got scared. You backtracked.Â
Especially after you found out you were pregnant with his baby after that night. The night he asked you to leave with him. The night you broke things off with him for good. The night your love was forever fractured and you promised to never tell him you were carrying his baby.Â
Then you graduated college and headed for the city, he left for Cali, and you never saw him againâŠuntil now, five years later. Looking at him now, all those old memories and feelings you thought were long buried come rushing back.Â
He smiles that white-toothed, dimpled smile that always gave you butterflies. His silvery-white hair and blue eyes startle you, especially since your Tara has inherited both. âWhatâs goinâ on, yâall?â he hollers into the mic. âYâall come to party with lilâ olâ me tonight?â The crowd erupts into frenzied screams and cheering. Gojo laughs, strutting up to the mic where his guitar is waiting for him. âAww, thank you kindly! Iâll make sure itâs an extra special show for yâall âcause Iâm back home!âÂ
He then straps the guitar to his slim waist as his band comes out onto the stage. He introduces them all: Shoko on the bass; Nanami on the secondary guitar; Geto on the drums. And as the strumming of guitars and the banging of the drums hit your eardrums, vibrating through your body, Gojo begins to sing.Â
His voice is silky and sweet yet seductive, sweetened by his Southern accent that never left him despite Cali. It makes you tremble and your heart pound as you sit there, rigid, your beer in hand. The worst part is that youâre forced to sit and watch all of it.Â
Well, youâre not forced, but you also canât move due to the bodies pressed tight against you in the seats. Youâre also too transfixed to look away. Gojo is truly a star, moving across the stage with his long legs; doing choreography and belting out all kinds of impressive vocals; strumming his guitar with those long fingers that used to touch your body.Â
He is meant for this world, as you thought so long agoâŠand youâre not.Â
Thirty minutes later, Gojo has changed into a simple black wife beater that sinfully hugs his muscles and faded jeans. He dabs his face drenched in sweat with a towel, all of his band and dancers gone backstage. âMy goodness, yâall are makinâ me sweat!â he whistles. âIâm gonna have to strip a lilâ bitâŠyâall donât mind, do ya?âÂ
He gives a cheeky smile to the crowd that squeals and screams for whatâs coming next. Turning around, Gojo flexes his back muscles as he strips off his wife beater, showing off the back tattoos inked into his tan skin. You swear, you nearly choke on your beer.Â
âGod, heâs so hot!â Utahime groans, smiling at you. âAinât he hot? Now thatâs a man you should make your new suitor, honey!â But you kind of already did that. He was hot even back in school, but now? The motherfucker is walking sex. California and fame did something to him.
You can barely breathe when he turns around, revealing the lipstick print on his right hip where his jeans are dangerously low on his V-line. He tosses his sweaty towel into the crowd where two middle-aged women begin to fuss over it. âNo fightinâ now,â he chuckles. âWeâre all grown folk here. We all family tonight, right, yâall?âÂ
He grins wider when the crowd erupts in agreement, cell phone lights flashing like stars at him. âThen allow me to make myself a lilâ more comfortable. Weâre gonna slow it down a bit while my dancers get a breakâŠ.but not me. I can go all night.âÂ
Oh, he most definitely could. âStop it!â you think to yourself.Â
Gojo then drags the stool closer to the edge of the stage. If you werenât sitting three aisles away from the stage, youâd be right in front of him. You swear, you go completely catatonic, unable to speak or breathe as he sits on his stool with his guitar, completely stripped down and intimate, the spotlight illuminating his handsome face.Â
âThis next song is about a very special someone,â he says silkily. âA lot of you may know this one, but not about its backstory. This is for someone that I used to be with many moons ago that left for a life without me in it.âÂ
Oh, no. You grip your beer and go to drink more for liquid courage, but you realize that you drank it all.
âItâs about beinâ in love with someone you shouldnât be âcause they ainât with you no more. Itâs about forgivinâ that person for breakinâ your heart, but never trulyâŠâ And then his eyes lock on you. Somehow, as those ocean blues are grazing the audience, they land directly onto your face after so long of looking and not quite seeing you. Now, there is no hiding.Â
Gojoâs eyes widen slightly at the sight of you and you know that he recognizes you immediately. âForgettinâ,â he finishes. âHoly shit.âÂ
The fans surrounding you immediately turn to either look at you or around you, wondering who the hell has got Gojo Satoru so starstruck. You canât breathe or look away, too locked down by those pretty eyes that have haunted you for so long.Â
âIs he lookinâ at you, Y/N?â Utahime gasps. You donât answer; you canât. Finally, the moment passes when Gojo blinks and clears his throat, smiling at the crowd. âU-Uh, sorry. Thought I saw somebody I knewâŠprobably. Looks like my old teacher is in this crowd too!âÂ
He points into one of the upper seats where, sure enough, a man wearing a shirt with Gojoâs face plastered on it is screaming while his two daughters look entirely embarrassed. Gojo laughs as he recovers while you havenât, still standing there dumbfounded. âYâall sing the words if you know this one. This is âOnce In A Whileâ.âÂ
He begins to play and the song is slow, sappy, and sweet. The lyrics are poetic and beautiful yet sorrowful, his silky voice curling around each word. You stare, unable to look away, as he croons into the mic. âGirl, you okay?â Utahime asks, holding your hand. You turn to her, noticing her worry. âYeahâŠthis song is just really sad.âÂ
Itâs a good lie because itâs also true. You manage to hold back your tears as Gojo continues to sing, looking so in his element and passionate as he sings. It tears at your heart and makes you want to bolt, but you stay, letting the song wash over you.Â
Thankfully, the show is over thirty minutes later. Gojo and his dancers take a big bow as the stage erupts into streamers and confetti, everyone wearing pink cowboy boots. Gojo looks so sexy in pink, the fuchsia tank top and boots bringing something feral out of you.
âYâall have a good night now! See ya soon!â He blows kisses and raises his beefy arms to wave as he is taken down from the stage, tossing a guitar pick at a random fan before he is finally gone.Â
You and Utahime wait until a good portion of the seats have cleared out before you venture out into the stadium to get something to eat. You decide on something small and get in line for the fry stand, famous for serving fries with all kinds of toppings, cheeses, and sauces. While Utahime is still beaming about the show, you just want to head home and tuck your head under the covers for good.
âWhat a show!â she dreamily sighs. âAnd what a fuckinâ man. Howâd you like it, honey?â She looks at you expectantly and her smile pains you. How can you tell her that the whole time, you were regretting your life choices staring into the ocean-blue eyes of your ex? âU-UmâŠit wasââÂ
âOmigod, Y/N?!â someone shouts from behind you. âUtahime! Girls, I canât believe itâs really yâall!â You turn around, finding a slender, fit girl standing there in cut-off shorts, cowboy boots, and a snakeskin tank top. You recognize her dark green bob and instantly being screaming in excitement. âOh, my goodness, Mai!â you squeal. âYouâre one of the dancers?!âÂ
You wrap your around her tight, feeling her dancer muscles. Mai used to be a cheerleader back in college, so it makes sense that sheâd become a backup dancer for a career choice. âYes, maâam! Been on the road with Satoru for months now; he hired me last year for his tour.âÂ
She gives Utahime a big squeeze too, your old friendship renewed after so much time and different paths. âSo you girls are still livinâ here?â she asks, a hand on her hip. âY/N, did you move back? Last time I heard, you moved to the city.âÂ
Utahime proudly answers that sheâs still living in town, not being able to drop her gig at the childrenâs hospital. âIâm just here for the summer with the little one,â you explain and Mai melts at the mention of your daughter. âOh, yeah, little Tara! I hope I can see her before you leave us again. Oh, before yâall leave, come meet the crew real quick!âÂ
Despite your better judgment, you follow Mai backstage away from the chaos of fans trying to leave the stadium and enter the world of the business of fame: stage staff, towel people, and the beautiful dancers and instrumentalists that Mai introduces you to. Though youâre happy to meet them, youâre also scared to run into Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. You find yourself looking down each corner and behind you as if heâs fucking Freddy Krueger ready to slash you in the back.Â
âHey, if you girls are down for some more fun, me and the crew are goinâ to the bar later for some drinks,â Mai says, rolling out the welcome wagon for some more fun with the famous people. She gives you a wink that she was famous for back in college, meaning that youâre in for some trouble tonight.Â
âBet, Iâm down!â Utahime squeals, down for the chance for some drinks with the band. But you, however, are already planning to excuse yourself from the festivities in fear of running into your baby daddy. âUh, actually, Mai, I think I shouldââÂ
âMai, you flirtinâ with my fans again?â Suddenly, a silky voice hits your eardrums as it explodes down the hall. All of you turn and suddenly, youâre staring into the handsome face of the one you were trying so hard to avoid tonight.Â
Gojo is standing there in the flesh, no longer a memory or a dream conjured by a moment of horniness in the dead of night. He is in sweats and a tank top that hangs off of his muscular body, a towel wrapped around his neck. Seeing him is like a slap in the face and you can barely breathe.Â
The singer looks momentarily starstruck at the sight of you, but then that cocky smirk comes sliding back onto his lips as he saunters up to you. Almost as if heâs been waiting for this moment to arrive. âOh, my God!â Utahime gasps, grabbing your arm rather roughly. âHeâs even hotter in person!â You donât reply, too cottonmouth to do anything but stare when the country hottie finally stops in front of you.Â
He casually smiles at you, those blue eyes sparkling with mirth. âWell, well...look who snuck backstage and decided to come crawlin' back to her favorite country boy. Guess city life wasn't as pretty as me, was it, darlin'?"
And just like that, the regret you felt for breaking his heart earlier goes right out the fucking window. âStill cocky as always, Satoru,â you sigh.Â
Mai looks between you both. âHold upâŠyâall two know each other?â she asks, looking confused as all hell. âAm I missinâ somethinâ?â Even Utahime looks clueless. You meet Gojoâs eyes and silently plead with him to not tell. To give you mercy.Â
And he does. âWe went to college together before I dropped out,â he explains. Iâm an old friend of Y/Nâs back when she lived here. He lies for you and that immediately makes you feel bad. So you come clean. After all, youâre adults, right? âWe used to date,â you admit. âThen after I applied to Masterâs school after college, I moved away to the city.âÂ
Utahime gapes at you, shocked. You try not to look at her, feeling guilt for never telling her this. âWow, really?!â Mai gasps. âYou never told me that, Gojo!â She nudges him hard in the ribs, making him grunt.Â
âDidnât know I had to,â he grumbles, playfully swatting Mai away like sheâs a fly. "So yâall ladies enjoy the show?â He gives you that white-toothed smile again that seems to hook you the same way it used to.Â
Utahime eagerly nods. âAbsolutely! This one cried durinâ one of your songs.â She nudges you and you contemplate murdering her with your cowboy boot. Gojo places a hand on his heart, playfully poking his pink bottom lip out where his lip ring dangles. âAw, damn, my bad. Wouldnât wanna make a pretty lady cryâŠwith my song anyhow.âÂ
You catch the glint in his eye at his little slip of a sexual innuendo but you ignore itâŠand the throb in your panties. This isnât the time to be thirsting after your ex AND your secret baby daddy!
âI invited them to come with us for drinks,â Mai announces to the singer. "Itâs not everyday you bump into some old friends.âÂ
Gojoâs eyes widen a bit, surprised at the prospect of you coming along for drinksâŠand then a satisfied smirk plays on his lips. Uh-oh. âNo, it ainât,â he agrees, his eyes sliding over to you and Utahime. âYâall should! Iâll gladly get a car for you girls or you can hitch a ride on my tour bus.âÂ
Utahime starts to reply, obviously wanting a personal ride in his tour bus, but you stop her. âA ride is fine,â you defeatedly say. âJust one drink will be nice.â You emphasis the number mostly for yourself; alcohol brings nothing but trouble. And you have enough trouble running into Gojo.Â
The singer nods, happy with your answer. âIâll get yâall that car thenâŠbut Iâm gonna need your number for that.â His satisfied, smug smile is so irritating that you want to smack him. Begrudgingly, you give him your number along with Utahime who is way more eager and even adds emojis when Gojo lets her.Â
âGreat! See you two tonight.â He gives you a small wink that only you catch before he saunters off, that firm yet bubble butt that could make male models cry swaying in his jeans.Â
Mai bids you farewell before Utahime turns to you, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. âI know, I know, Iâve got a lot of explaininâ to do,â you sigh.Â
Your friend grabs your arm, pulling you to the nearest exit. âDamn right, missy,â she tuts. âThe hell do you mean you used to date Gojo Satoru in college?! Why didnât you tell me this?! And how didnât the whole town know?!âÂ
This was gonna be a very long night.Â
When you finally finish telling your friend your story, you feel like you should sell it to a Hollywood agent for a movie.Â
Utahime sits in the ride share with you that Gojo ordered to transport you to the barâa nice sports car with blasting AC, complementary water bottles, and comfy seatsâ, staring at you like you just finished telling her that youâre God.Â
âOkay, wait,â she says. âSo youâre tellinâ me that you and Gojo secretly dated back in college âcause you didnât want your family findinâ out about him, he got you pregnant before he dropped out of school and went to Hollywood, so you lied about goinâ to school in the city just to get an abortion?âÂ
You nod, nervously toying with the loose thread on your sundress. âYeah, thatâs the gist of it.â Utahime huffs, shaking her head in awe. âJeez, honeyâŠand I thought I had men problems.âÂ
âIâm sorry I didnât tell you,â you say, feeling horribly guilty. âYou know my aunt wouldâve killed me if she found out I was datinâ in college andââÂ
âGirl, I don't care about that!â she scoffs. âBut didnât you tell me about that other thing? I wouldâve gone to the city with you!âÂ
You feel your eyes bubble with tears, loving that your friend doesnât blame or bash you for your decision. âI didnât tell anyone. Only my family knew and my aunt paid top dollar to get me the procedure out of state. After that, I just made my life in the city.âÂ
Initially, you planned to get an abortion and your family decided out of state would be better since your small town liked to talk like high school girls in a locker room. But once you got a look at the little blip in your tummy, you changed your mind and kept the babyâŠbut you never told Gojo.Â
You hid your relationship with him back in college to avoid it getting back to your parents and wealthy aunt who paid to put you in the best school in your town. Originally, it was just a fling that turned into something more. You fell for Gojo and his talent.Â
But overtime as his popularity got bigger and his world was becoming a little too big for you, you got scared. You jumped ship. You couldnât think of a life with him in fear of him getting sick of small-town you and leaving you for a Hollywood bombshell.Â
You thought that breaking things off was for the bestâhe could focus on his career and you could focus on your futureâŠand your baby girl. But still, as years passed, the temptation to check online to see how he was doing stuck around. You wondered if he ever made it his dream come true; now, years later, you see that he absolutely has.Â
âAnd youâre still okay with seeinâ him again?â Utahime wonders aloud. âWe can always turn around and get that hotel.â You smile, affectionately patting her hand. âNah, I need the drink. Plus, I wouldnât wanna ruin your fun with my sob story.âÂ
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. âPlease! How often do you fuck a famous country singer and get knocked up with his kid? Your life is literally a country song, doll!â You knock your knee with hers and you two laugh among each other as the car suddenly comes to a stop. âLadies, youâve arrived,â the driver announces.Â
And just like that, your heart falls into your ass. Utahime gives you a comforting smile as you get out of the car and stand in front of the glowing sign of the cowboy-themed dive bar. âAnd donât worry; Gojo wonât know. Your secret is safe with me, always. Now letâs go getcha that drink!âÂ
She interlaces your fingers as you walk into the bar together, immediately bombarded with the sounds of loud country music, chatter, and the clinking of pool cues against the colorful balls as they roll along a pool table on your left. On your right is a mechanical bull and darts. In front of you is a bar where Gojoâs crew is situated, sitting on stools among the fake bull head mounted on the wall over a rack of booze bottles.Â
âTheyâre here!â Mai shouts, the first to greet you and Utahime in her cowgirl outfit. She gives you both a hug, already buzzed from a couple shots. âLetâs get yâall some drinks!â
For the next ten minutes, you donât see Gojo even though you search for him. You canât seem to calm down despite the cool beer in your hand and the sweet company that he keeps. You chat with his bandmates about living in the city while Utahime is busy blushing around Shoko, the bassist, as she smokes her cigarette before he finally arrives, causing his crew to cheer and raise their glasses to him.Â
âMy bad, yâall,â he huffs, grinning that perfect grin. âAgent was in my ear about the next stop. Managed to get us two days off, so letâs get fucked up and enjoy âem!â But as he looks towards the bar, his eyes lock on you instantly, almost as if he was waiting for you.Â
You swallow hard, gulping down more beer in an effort to drain your nerves as he takes a seat next to you on the stool. He is wearing a crisp white tee, jeans, boots, and dog tags that make you think of some sinful things. He smells of pine and spiced cinnamon, the tempting aroma driving you to insanity.Â
After hailing down the bartenderâwho isnât too busy since Gojo rented out the entire barâfor a drink, he slings one beefy arm over the bar and gazes at you. âSo you actually showed up,â he scoffs. âDidnât expect that since you seemed so horrified to see me.âÂ
You side-eye him, sipping your beer and tapping your fingers to the music on the bar. âIâd beg to differ,â you retort. âBut then again, I wouldnât be too happy âbout seeinâ small town folk from my past either. Youâre a big star now.âÂ
Gojo chuckles, the sound too sexy for words. âOn the contrary, darlinâ; Iâm always happy to see some old friends. You girls want some shots?â You now notice that Utahime has come wandering over, tipsier than earlier. âYes, please! And your bassistâs number too.âÂ
You gape at her while Gojo tosses his head back and laughs, the sound making your tummy flip. You know that you probably shouldnât mix drinks, but you canât resist the temptation of some liquid courage around your old boyfriend. You donât know why you feel so jittery and jumpy around him.Â
After Gojo gets a personal round of tequila shots with some lime slices on the side, he places them in front of you and Utahime. You go for a particular glass at the same time as Gojo, causing you to brush hands. Utahime doesnât notice, too busy swaying to the music. Quickly, you tear your hand away from Gojoâs as if youâve been burned, his soft skin and the veins running through his palm shocking you to your core.Â
If Gojo is hurt, he doesnât show it, instead picking up a different shot glass. âMy bad,â he murmurs, his eyes gazing into yours. You avert your eyes, not wanting to see whatâs in his. Then he raises his glass and clears his throat. âCheers. To old and new friends.âÂ
Clink go your shots before you down them. You relish the delicious burn of the tequila before it instantly goes to your head, making it feel light while the rest of you feels heavy. You have to back up off of the booze for a moment to recuperate while Utahime wanders off to chat some more with Shoko.Â
Leaving you alone with Gojo. It is awkward and odd, the tension thick like Southern heat. But also comfortable. Youâre afraid of that. Gojo was always easy to talk to and things havenât changed. He clears his throat, trying to start some conversation since you wonât. âSo howâd ya wind up back here? Last time I heard, you were in the big city doinâ big girl things.âÂ
He gives you an easy smile that almost makes you crack. âI still am; Iâm just here for the summer with my aunt.âÂ
He nods, downing his shot in one go. You watch his Adamâs Apple bob. Damn him. âAh, the epitome of Southern etiquette. She always hated me.â You chuckle to yourself, nodding. âMmm-hmm. Said you was troubleâŠand she wasnât wrong.âÂ
Gojo raises a brow at you. âWhatchu mean?â You smirk knowingly at him. âDid you forget about all the skinny-dippinâ and ditchinâ class for joyrides?â you chuckle. The singer grins wide, his eyes sparkling from the memories. "Ya got me there, darlinâ. Not to mention the âstudy sessionsâ too.â Â
You squeeze your thighs together at the mention of those hot, forbidden sessions where books were forgotten.Â
Your aunt saw Gojo before you didâat a opening house for the college. âStay away from a boy like that, dear,â she hissed to you. âUnderneath that dimpled smile and sweet talk, heâs the Devil.â You just waved off her lecture, figuring that it was just crazy talk.Â
But then word of your secret dates got back to her and while she didnât tell your parents, she forbade you from ever going around Gojo againâŠof course, you didnât listen. You just got smart. Hence the study sessions.Â
âSo howâs it feel beinâ back here after travelinâ the world on your tour?â you ask, curious.
Gojo pauses, thinking for a moment, and then exhales with happiness. "Like a breath of fresh air. I right outside our town now, so cominâ back home after jumpinâ from country to country is always a warm welcome.âÂ
You couldnât agree more and sip some beer to drink to it. âWhat about you? Whatâs it like beinâ back in a small town compared to the big city?âÂ
The look he gives you is too warm. Too happy. Like he really is joyed to see you. âWarm. And cozy,â you answer. âMy aunt swears that itâll be a good place to find a husband.â Whoops. Maybe you shouldnât have mixed your drinks after all.
Gojo gives you an incredulous look, scoffing with laughter. âSheâs lookinâ for a husband for you?â he chuckles and whistles, shaking his head. âGood luck with that, honey. I find that the fellas are alike all around.âÂ
âOh, so ya do now?â you scoff, cocking your head at him. âAnd howâs that? You an expert in men?â The booze has made you too mouthy. Too bold. But Gojo goes toe to toe with you and itâs undeniably hot. âI should be. You dated me, right? From my perspective, I did a pretty damn good job at it before ya left.âÂ
You feel a slight dip in your stomach at the mention of you leaving town, but you ignore it. âWatch it, cowboy. Iâll give ya props, but donât get too cocky.â The singer just smirks at you, giving you a look dripping with a molten hot promise that makes you feel hotter than the tequila. âHave you met me, darlinâ? Thatâs all I do.âÂ
Suddenly, your smile fades and you canât tell if youâre just playing anymore. This is quickly edging towards some dangerous territory. So what do you do? You run. Like always. Like you did before.Â
You get up and fix your dress as you head to the dance floor among Gojoâs crew, the warm lights washing over you. Gojo watches you, his eyes grazing your ass. You feel them and you hate that you like it. âWhere ya goinâ?â he wonders. You donât look back as you saunter to the floor, the guitars and drums calling your name. âI wanna dance!â you call over your shoulder. âYou gonna come along, cowboy?âÂ
You donât know why you ask. Youâre supposed to be trying to get away from him, not reel him in for more! But the beer and the tequila are talking for you, making you feel reckless and irresistible. With every electric strum of the guitar strings and beat of the drums in the country song blaring from the overhead speakers, your blood grows hot and you feel alive the more Gojo watches you.
You turn away from him as you begin to dance, swaying to the beat, your sundress swishing around your hips and thighs. The dance floor is packed, making the air feel sticky with sweat and alive with energy. You stand right in it, becoming lost in the tide. It feels good to dance alone but you know dancing with Gojo would feel even better, even if you donât want to admit it.
Then you feel a touch on your wrist and turn with a smile, only to see that itâs not Gojo but one of the bartender who is off duty. âYou need a partner, stranger?â he chuckles, giving you a sloppy grin that gives you the impression that he was sipping AND mixing on the job.
But before you can politely tell him no, your white-haired cowboy appears beside you, his sheer height making you feel protected enough. âNah, sheâs with me,â he says with a finality, but he wears s mile. âBetter luck next time, bro.âÂ
The bartender lifts his hands in defense and moves onto the next girl. You turn to Gojo with your arms crossed over your low cleavage. âYou speakinâ for me now?âÂ
The singer side-eyes the bartender, looking indifferent to his presence. âYou donât want that asshole. He was reekinâ of whiskey; woulda thrown up all over your pretty dress.âÂ
His blue eyes graze over your form in your sundress, making you feel naked. You hate that you relish it, shivering from his molten gaze, drunk off of the booze and you. Then he stretches his big hand out for you, a hopeful look in his eyes. âDance with me?â he offers.Â
You know you shouldnât, but temptation wins. You take his hand and let him pull you into him, just like you used to. As you place one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, he places his big hands on your waist just like used to. Instantly, flashes of those dance slow dancing with him in your dorms come flooding back, nostalgic and troubling.Â
You fit into him like a missing puzzle piece, feeling at home surrounded by everyone dancing in their boots thumping against the hardwood floor. Feeling like youâre the only two in the world. Your hand finds his dog tags, the metal cool against your fingertips, but you also feel his heartbeat thumping against them too. Thumping for you.Â
âI missed this, yâknow,â he whispers. âDancinâ like this. Kinda makes us feel like the only two people here.â You donât know why you look up. You shouldnât because all you see in those eyes is affection that he shouldnât have for you. âSatoru,â you murmur. âWe shouldnâtâŠâÂ
And then youâre kissing. You donât know who leans in first, but he doesnât matter: heâs kissing you and youâre kissing him, slow and steady. No rushing. No push and pull. Just a slow, lingering seduction that draws you in with every drag of his soft lips and coolness of his lip ring against yours. He tastes and feels just as he did before, but better.Â
You feel dizzy as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing lightly with yours where you taste his tongue ring. He never had one before and it arouses you. You find yourself pushing yourself into him, needing more, and he pushes right back, giving you a feel of the unmistakable outline of his thick, long câÂ
Bzzzzzz! You gasp, pulling away when you feel your phone buzzing in your bag against your leg. âS-Sorry,â you stammer. Gojo stares at you, lips flush from kissing and eyes hooded as you answer the call, clearing your throat. âHello?âÂ
âMommy!â Tara yells into the phone, so loud that you have to take your phone off of your ear. âI canât find Applejack!â You sigh, trying not to get mad at your daughter for interrupting a kiss that you shouldnât have had. âLook in your duffle bag, baby girl. I packed it with your My Little Pony PJs.âÂ
Painfully, you stand there with Gojo, afraid to look at him, as you hear Tara scuffling around on the phone for her plushie.Â
âFound it!â she squeals. âAuntieâs mad youâre not home yet.â You roll your eyes, not in the mood for your aunt to kill your buzz from miles away. âTell Auntie that Iâll be home tomorrow. Love you, lovebug.âÂ
âLove you more, Mommy! Buh bye!â Finally, the call ends and you breathe a sigh of relief. You turn to Gojo, still not looking at him. âThat was myâŠdaughter,â you sigh when you canât think of a good lie.Â
âYou got a kid?â he asks, sounding surprised and you feel your heart pummeling in your chest. âYou ainât tell me that.â Before you can stop yourself, you feel irrationally agitated and fumble with your bag, trying to shove your phone in it.
âI didnât know I had to,â you snap. "Weâre not together anymore, Satoru; itâs been five years since weâŠâ You pause, feeling tears well up as the guilt piles on, making you feel like a pile of donkey shit. âIâm sorry. I-I have to go.â But as you turn to leave, Gojo grabs your hand, stopping you. âWait, donât go,â he pleads. âIâm sorry, I justââÂ
âLet me go, Satoru,â you whimper as if youâre in pain. He releases you, looking positively wounded, like that night you told him you werenât going to Cali with him and broke his heart. You ignore it.Â
"Tell Utahime there was an emergency and I got an Uber.â Quickly, still fumbling with your bag, you storm off the dance floor and away from Gojo, struggling to hold back tears. âWait, Iâll get you a car! Y/N, hold up!âÂ
But youâre racing for the exit, trying to make it outside before the tears start coming. You manage to make it out of the bar in the sticky summer night, the night alive with activity. But you donât call an Uber. Instead, you go walking, needing to be away from everyone and everything for a while.Â
You decide to curve around behind the bar where there is nothing but dirt roads, grass, and fireflies. Nothing but you. However, you also somehow find yourself standing in front of Gojoâs tour bus parked smack-dab on the grass. You stare up at his beautiful face on the side of the bus; that white-toothed grin; those pretty eyes.Â
And then you begin to cry. You softly sob into your hands as fat, salty tears drip down your cheeks, ruining your mascara and shimmery eyeshadow that you spent an hour perfecting. You donât feel beautiful or sexy or desirable. You feel like dirt. Trash. Nothing but scum under your sandals.Â
Gone is the intoxicating feeling you initially felt from the alcohol. Now, you only feel tired and regretful. The memories hit you like a train: you, see twenty two-year old Gojoâs hopeful expression five years ago standing in your luxury dorm, his hands in yours after telling you about his record deal offer.
âYou can come with me, darlinâ!â he exclaimed. âWe can go to California together! And once I sign this contract for my deal, our relationship will onlyââÂ
âOur relationship?â you scoffed, snatching your hands from his. âSatoru, we donât have a relationship, remember? How do you expect me to tell my folks that Iâve been secretly datinâ you for months when Iâm supposed to be focusinâ on my studies?âÂ
Gojoâs smile faded, now looking utterly confused. âWeâd just tell âemâŠunless you donât want to.â His eyes grew steely and you didnât like it. âYou donât want âem to know about me,â he realized. âEven now.âÂ
âThey canât!â you snapped, frustration in your tone. âThey forbade me from datinâ in college, Satoru, and this town talks! Plus, I canât just up and leave my life here for a life in Cali. What if we broke up?âÂ
That hurt Gojo more than you realized; you could see it in those beautiful, blue eyes. But you ignored it, retreating emotionally, guarding your heart. âI just think we need to be realistic,â you mumbled, hugging yourself tight. âI just donât think this is gonna work for us anymore.âÂ
The look Gojo gave you made you feel like a murderer; like you stabbed him right in the chest. âYouâre breakinâ my heart, darlinâ,â he whispered, his voice clogged with emotion. You didnât say anything in fear of breaking down in tears. Instead, you stayed silent and watched him leave, taking all of your love for him with him.
âY/N!â You suddenly hear someone shout, ripping you out of your memory. You turn, finding Gojo standing there as if conjured by your thoughts. He strides up to you in his boots, looking concerned. âWhat are you doinâ? Come back inside.â
He goes to touch you, but you flinch away, waving him off. âNo!â you whimper. âPlease, Satoru, just leave me alone! You donât want this!âÂ
Gojo looks wounded, but doesnât push it. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, his pink lips a thin line. âYou dropped this inside.â He then produces you with a photo of you and Tara that escaped your phone wallet.
Quickly, you snatch it back and slide it back into your bag. The silence is thick and tense; youâd need a chainsaw to cut it. âSheâs beautiful,â Gojo softly says. âShe looks just like you. Prettiest thing in the world.âÂ
He gives you a small, almost sardonic smile that pains you to your core. âIâm sure she looks like her daddy too.â The words make your stomach pit and your blood run cold. When you look at him, his gaze is intense and knowing. Without a doubt, he knows your secret now. âShe mine?â he bluntly asks.Â
You donât answer, your heart pummeling so fast that youâre afraid youâll have a heart attack. Gojo grows irritated at your silence, his jaw tensing. âY/N, answer me.â Still, you canât, and turn to walk off, unable to tell him the truth out of your mouth.Â
But Gojo ainât having it this time. âNo,â he growls, grabbing your hand. âNo more fuckinâ runninâ from me. You did that before when you left me with a broken heart.â You try to wrench your hand out of his grip, pulling away from him. âStop it, Satoru!â you weakly protest. âI donât wanna talk about this!âÂ
Gojo releases you, but still gives you that sharp, hurt look. âSo you were just gonna come back here and not tell me about my own baby?â he scoffs.Â
You glare at him, furious with yourself more than him but still unable to swallow your pride. âHow do you even know sheâs yours? Plenty of guys have white hair and blue eyes, you dick!â Even when you think it, you know that itâs BS.Â
âHow old is she?â he growls. You harshly bite your lip, staring down at your painted toes. âFive,â you whisper.Â
âMmm-hmm,â he replies, crossing his beefy arms over his broad chest. âYou left five years ago, so unless you had someone else around that time, I know that little girl is mine. I ainât that dumb, darlinâ.âÂ
You turn away, unable to focus on anything but the internal battle inside of you. One side screams at you to tell the truth while the other insists that you keep your heart and Taraâs heart on lock. But as you stare into Gojoâs ocean-blue irises and see the pain in them, you canât help but feel guilt engulf you. âTell me,â he begs. âTell me the truth.âÂ
Finally, the tension breaks and you release. âYes, okay?!â you snap. âYes, sheâs yours! I ainât been with anyone else like that since you got me pregnant! Is that what you wanna hear?!âÂ
Gojo stands there for a moment. Silent. Taking it all in. Five years of never knowing. You never telling.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â he asks, looking oh-so sad. It breaks you. âI couldâve been there. I wouldâve been there.â He sounds so sure, like he wouldâve promised at twenty-two years old that he wouldâve been a daddy.Â
You scoff, rolling your wet eyes stained with running mascara. âOh, please, Satoru! You had a life that was just startinâ and I wasnât ready for it! You werenât ready for a kid, so I made the decision for youâŠor I wouldâve if I hadnât kept her.âÂ
Gojo blinks at you, confused but still tender. He knows youâre trying to tell him something. âYou confusinâ me, darlinâ. Iâm not good with cryptics.âÂ
You bite your lip, a lump in your throat and your body flush with humiliation. Why is this so damn hard? âI lied about goinâ to Masterâs school,â you admit, staring at your toes. âI went to get an abortion, but then I changed my mind and kept the baby.âÂ
Silence swells between you, thick as the hot Southern night and so intense that itâs unbearable. Youâre sure that Gojo will hate you even more now. âI know youâre mad about me, but I-I didnât think I was ready for a baby! I was so young a-andââÂ
âBaby, baby, slow down,â Gojo coos, taking your hands in his. This time, you donât pull away. âIâm not mad about the abortion. Hell, not even about California. Iâm upset that you left and didnât think to tell me what was goinâ on. Fuck the fameâI wanted you and I wanted our daughter too. Nothinâ was more important to me than you.âÂ
His eyes are firm and passion, softened by his love for you still blooming after five years. You stand there, melting from the soft, safe love that you still donât believe you deserve. âAnd there still ainât,â he confesses, impassioned. âYou were my first and only love. Nobody else came after you, but I was so convinced you had someone else in your life.âÂ
His words make you come apart and when he cups your wet cheek in his hand, you stop fighting. You stop running. You want to crash right into him and his love, and drown in it. âNo one,â you softly confess. âItâs always been you too, Toru. Itâs only Tara and me.âÂ
A hopeful smile stretches onto his dimpled cheeks. âSo does that mean I've still got a chance with you? We can still try again?â His thumb runs over your bottom lip, making your arousal peak. âSatoru,â you whisper. âWe shouldnâtââÂ
âWe can,â he murmurs, pulling you close against him. âStop fightinâ this, darlinâ. Itâs just me.â Yes, just him. Just your love. The one youâve been thinking of for years now.Â
And so you let his lips descend upon yours again, kissing you deeply and passionately. You drink in his cologne and how his chest feels against your fingers as you lock lips, softly moaning into each otherâs mouths.
Gojo used to be a good kisser back in college, but now? Heâs had practice and you can tell from the way he falls into rhythm with you, swooping your tongue up in a private dance that makes your panties wet.Â
He presses himself against you, making you feel his hard bulge pressing against his jeans. He stutters out a groan as you grind down into him as his big hands slide under your sundress, possessively grabbing your ass. You whimper, hot sparks of pleasure swirling inside of you.Â
âI missed you,â he moans against your lips. âMissed ya so goddamn much.â You feel his tongue, hot and pierced, slither down your neck to your breasts where his hands trail to grip and grope, massaging them through your thin sundress. âM-Missed you too!â you stammer. âGod, Satoru, donât tease!âÂ
The country star smirks at you, the act so familiar and oh-so sexy. âItâs been a while for ya, huh?â he teases. âDonât you worry, darlinâ; this cowboy can help with that. Just tell me ya want it.âÂ
You stare into his eyes, no longer afraid. No longer running. You need this. âI want it,â you mew, your legs turning to jelly the more you stand here with him. âTaste me, Satoru.â
Your ex is happy to oblige. He guides you over to the back of the tour bus, out of sight of the bar, the road, and other buildings, giving you some privacy. Gojo pins you against the tour bus and gives you a hot, sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. âYouâre so perfect. How I missed this bodyâŠâÂ
His hands glide over your soft skin, his touch leaving trails of fire, as he playfully nibbles on your bottom lip. âThese lipsâŠâ He pulls the lush lip before popping it back into place, grinning when you whimper.Â
âThese titsâŠâ He peppers your tits in wet kisses, pulling down your spaghetti straps for better access but not taking them out to toy with your nipples. Not yet. He teases you, making you gush into your panties as he kneels down before you, his expression hungered. He trails your sundress up to reveal your soft inner thighs, slightly sticking together from the heat, and your panties. âThat pretty fuckinâ pussy,â he growls. âLook how wet you are for me, baby, shit!âÂ
He can see it from the frontâthat wet spot growing in the pink lace fabric. He takes two fingers and glides them along your slit, making you gasp, before sticking them in his mouth to suck off your taste.Â
You flush, biting your lip. âItâs been awhile.â Gojo raises a brow at your confession, hope twinkling in those ocean blues. âYou ainât been with anyone else?âÂ
Youâre inclined to tell him what he wants to hear when he begins rubbing your clit with his thumb through your panties, sparks of pleasure shooting through you. âItâs been a slow summer,â you softly exhale.Â
And it hasâyou havenât had a man knock the cobwebs off your pussy all summer long because you had no interest in it. But now, all you can think about is Gojo knocking your screws loose and fucking your brains out to make up time.Â
âDonât worry, darlinâ; no other man will compare once Iâm done with you. Just keep it downâŠif ya can.â He gives you a smirk before he pulls your panties aside, exposing your glistening, puffy pussy lips to him and the summer air.Â
You grit your teeth at him and his arrogance even as it turns you on. âYou cocky littleâoh, fuck!â You have to cover your mouth when Gojo finally gets his mouth on you, hot, wet, and juicy. He is perfectâjust as he used to be, but better.
He is more precise and skillful yet still has that sloppy eagerness that makes your pussy wet with his spit because he keeps coating your slit in it, allowing for his tongue to slide between your swollen lips. He moans at your taste as if he canât get enough of your honey.
Each moan sends vibrations throughout your cunt, making you shudder and quake against his mouth. You canât help but whine and whimper over the magical feelings your country star ex and baby daddy gives you.Â
His blue eyes lock with yours as he hooks your thigh over his shoulder, pulling his plush, pink lips away to speak to you. âTouch me, mama. Put those pretty hands on me.â You begin to caress his white locks of hair as he continues to lap at your pussy before hooking his tongue inside of you.Â
Your eyes widen at the feeling, your mouth falling agape as a loud moan escapes you. âOh, my God,â you gasp. âT-Toru, fuck! Right there!âÂ
Gojo smirks against your clit, nuzzling it with his nose. âRight here?â he teasingly asks. He does the same move again, the coolness of his tongue piercing melting against your molten pussy as you grind yourself into him. âThatâs real good, mama. You sound so fuckinâ good fâme.âÂ
Zzzzzip. You suddenly hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans with one hand, but you have no chance to look down because youâre too busy squeezing your eyes shut from the sheer, intense pleasure the country heartthrob is giving you.Â
Finally, Gojo pulls away to breathe, his lips glistening in your taste and eyes lust-blown for you. âTurn around. I wanna eat this pussy from the back.â The order coming from his silky voice makes you shudder in arousal.Â
Quickly, you turn around and brace your hands against the tour bus, sticking your ass out for him. Gojo groans at the sight, hypnotized as he hikes your dress up to reveal your full, plump ass in your lace panties.Â
SMACK!Â
âOh!â you gasp, taken aback by the sudden, pleasurable sting of his hand against your ass. Gojo chuckles, laying a kiss on your asscheek. âSorry, mama, but you bought that on yourself. Guess our baby filled you out.âÂ
His hands glide down your full hips and over your tummy, softer and fluffier from the baby. You bite your lip, suddenly self conscious. âI-Itâs somethinâ Iâve been workinâ on.â Pilates, cardio, dieting, you name it. Though youâve lost weight since having your daughter, you still have the curves that being a mommy has awarded you.Â
Gojo shows you how awarded he feels by gripping your ass lovingly and kissing it, making you hum in pleasure at the wet trail of kisses. âDonât. Youâre so fuckinâ hot like this. All these hips and that assâŠâ He hits your ass again, the sharp smack making your pussy throb.Â
He then stands up and you hear a soft smack-smack-smack of something hard and hot against your pussy, teasing your clit. âFeel that, baby?â he silkily asks. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to push back into him and sink back onto his cock. âUh-huh.âÂ
Gojo hums in pleasure, running the bulbous head of his dick against your swollen, wet lips where you feel something else. Something cold. A dick piercing. âI would do this for no one but you. You know that, right? Only you can make me this hard.âÂ
Finally, he kneels behind you and proceeds to eat your pussy off the bone, his tongue slipping, sliding, and swirling around your dripping hole. You have to clap a hand over your mouth to avoid screaming in pleasure and alerting people.Â
He just so perfect. He turns you into an eager, needy slut, freeing her from the prison sheâs been in for so long. âOh, f-fuck, Toru, yes! More! I-I need more!â
Gojo smirks into your pussy, using his index finger to rub your clit in semi-circles. âSo you want me to make ya cum your pretty brains out?â You nod, looking back at him behind you. His eyes glitter with mirth, his smirk molten lust. âI can do that. Make up for lost time.âÂ
And then there is no more talking from you as he hooks his pierced tongue up to caress your G-spot as he rubs your clit, the lewd, sloshing sounds of his tongue flicking in your soaked pussy drifting through the summer air. âShit!â you moan. âFaster! Please, Toru!âÂ
You begin to ride his face, pushing your ass into his face as you begin to rock back on your heels, needing to cum. Desperate to cream all over his tongue. Finally, you feel that tug in your core and you reach back to grip his hair, much to his enjoyment. âFuck, Iâm gonâ cum, Daddy!â you moan.Â
âUh-huh!â Gojo moans into your pussy, repeating it like itâs a mantra as his tongue flicks get faster. His finger rubs a little harder, just enough for you to feel that pressure. And in one split second, like a string growing thin and bursting, you release.Â
âOh, shit, Toru, yes!â you gasp as you cream all over his tongue. You muffle your loud, pornographic moans and whines with your hand as you cum hard and intense, your head growing foggy from the euphoric feeling.Â
Gojo greedily slurps every drip of your cum up, groaning at the taste. Like itâs the best thing in the world. After your moans turn into cute little whimpers and sobs, Gojo pulls away and stands, that big thang swinging between his thighs like a pendulum.Â
You turn to him, giving him a goofy smile that can only happen after a good orgasm. âThank you,â you sigh. You wrap your arms around him, kissing yourself off of his lips. âDonât mention it, mama. Itâs always been a pleasure.âÂ
His cock throbs between you, agreeing with that statement. You stare at it hungrily, needing it in your mouth. âNow itâs your turn~âÂ
But before you can kneel, he stops you, kissing your knuckles with a searing promise in his eyes that makes you melt. âNot out here, you little minx. Iâm freaky but Iâm also possessive. Letâs getcha inside so we can really make up for lost time, huh?âÂ
You giggle as he suddenly scoops you up off of your feet and carries you into his tour bus, locking it with a simple click of a button, before carrying you to the back of the bus to a comfy black couch to continue your âactivityâ.Â
Minutes later, Gojo is buck ass naked and youâre on your knees titty fucking him, the soft, beautiful tig olâ bitties slick with coconut oil. His big, thick dick pierced at the tip glistens between your tits, standing up at attention. "You are no oneâs gonna find us?â you pant, looking at the bus doors.Â
Gojo cups your chin and forces to look at him. All of him, right down to his washboard abs and V-line. âPositive. I locked the door. Now hush and keep rubbinâ that oil on you.â He reaches over for the little bottle and pours more onto your tits, making them slick and slippery. âYouâre such a perv, Satoru,â you tsk, but you love it.Â
You proceed to jack him off with those luscious breasts that seem to hypnotize Gojo, his lust-blown eyes flicking between his cock disappearing between them and your pretty face. âItâs good, Daddy?â you coo.Â
You can tell from his handsome face screwing in pleasure, his muscles tense from the sensations. Your country star tilts his head back against the cushions, throat exposed and mouth open as he moans and pants for you. âOh, my fuckinâ God, yes!â Gojo groans. âLook so good between âem. I belong there.âÂ
You canât agree more watching his cock strain between your breasts, pulsating and throbbing against the soft globes slick with oil. âYes,â you moan. âIâm all yours, Daddy. Go on, fuck them titties for me.âÂ
He does so, lifting his hips and letting out straight pornographic moans as he fucks your titties, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. âFuck,â he groans, his blue eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. Heâs never looked hotter and youâve never been wetter.
Finally fed up, he pauses, staring dead at your mouth. âPut your mouth âround me,â he growls. âLemme see them lips stretch.â You give him a lewd smile before wrapping your lips around his cock, tasting the coconut oil dripping off of his thick shaft.Â
He moans loudly and sluttily at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth entwining him, sucking him off. âOh, God, yes,â he groans, his eyes fluttering closed. You pump your head up and down, pushing him in and out of your throat, hollowing your cheeks for more suction. How you missed this! Especially how he sounds: so needy and desperate for you.Â
Gojo laces his piano long fingers in your hair, gripping the locks as he guides your head down. âFuck yes, ah!â he gasps. âDeeper, mama. Take me deepâŠyeah, just like that!â His moans become louder, not caring about anyone hearing, as your throat gags and flexes around him.Â
Heâs still so fucking big after all this time! You struggle to take him at first, but quickly, your throat adjusts and opens for him, allowing him deeeeep down the tight, wet tunnel. Gojoâs toes curl and his abs tense as you work his cock with your luscious, heavenly mouth, your spit dripping down his balls to stain the couch.Â
Finally, you pull away and smile at him, pressing his wet cock to your cheek slightly streaked in mascara. âWanna give me a nice souvenir?â you joke. The country star smirks, eyes glittering with lust. âSure, but not in your throat. I wanna be inside you.âÂ
A delicious shiver runs through your body at the thought of this sexy ass man fucking you deep and cumming inside of you, fulfilling something inside of you that you thought was going to be long empty forever. You nod, smiling as you giddily bite your lip in anticipation for what is to happen.Â
Gojo opens his arms for you, making your heart flip. âCâmere,â he coos. You crawl to him and he has you sit in his lap, his cock grinding against your asscheeks and slit, making you moan as his dick grows sticky and wet from you dripping onto it. Staring down into those blues, you see nothing but a growing heat just for you. âRide me. I know you need this too.âÂ
Oh, like he wouldnât believe. Your pussy has a damn heartbeat of its own with how aroused you are. You ache for him.Â
So you canât resist bracing yourself on his chest and raising yourself up to slide down his achingly hard, delicious dick. He securely holds your curvy hips, eyes flicking from your tits to your face like he doesnât know what to stare at more. âReady, mama?â he asks. âCome down when youâreââÂ
Before he can even finish, youâre sliding down that soaked pussy down onto his cockpit taking just the tip first. As soon as you do, you both share a gasp and your eyes widen like you just took a shot of the purest drug in your system. âShit!â you both moan in unison.Â
Gojo continues to hold you tight as you adjust and then surely begin to alternate between rocking your hips and slowly bouncing on his dick. Your moans are soft and slutty, just as his are. He watches you through slits of his eyes, teeth clenched and face flushed. âJust as Iâah, fuck, babyâthought. You still fit me like a fuckinâ glove.âÂ
As if in agreement, your pussy squeezes tight around him, happy with the praise. Your country singer lets out a groan fit for a porno and leans his head back against the cushion, mouth agape and eyes rolling back.
That sexy look on his face makes you bounce a bit faster, taking him deeper. Moans, gasps, and whines escape you, filling the tour bus along with the sound of your curvy ass smacking against his thighs. âO-Oh! Oh, fuck! God, Toru, youâre so fuckinâ big!âÂ
Gojo grins at this, training those eyes on you. âJust like old times, right, darlinâ?â he softly chuckles, gripping you so possessively that youâre sure heâll tattoo those fingerprints into your flesh.Â
You shake your head, still gripping those pecs as you bounce up and down, making your full titties bounce with you. âNo. Better. You fill me up so much.â And he doesâyou feel so full and stretched, every inch of him making you whimper and your pussy spasm. Gojoâs eyes grow darker and he begins to fuck you from the bottom, slowly. âKeep bouncinâ on me. Take what you need.âÂ
You do just that, fully hopping on that dick, making your titties bounce more freely and your ass recoil against his thighs. He lets you use him, his moans growing louder and sluttier, his voice mixing with yours to bounce off of the tour bus walls. âThatâs it, darlinâ! Ride me! Fuck, I love your fuckinâ pussy!âÂ
He starts to fuck you from the bottom again, this time much faster and rougher. He jackhammers his hips up into you, going so fast and gripping your ass so hard that you see stars as you bounce like a bunny on his dick.
âI-I love you, Toru!â you gasp. The words explode out of you like fireworks, unable to be contained or kept hidden the more you ride his fat cock.
As soon as they are out, you can't take them backâboth of you know that. Gojo stares at you, shocked, his blue eyes wide. Then he splits into a big, white-toothed grin that makes butterflies swarm in your tummy. âYa do?â he asks.Â
You nod, unable to take it backâŠbut you donât want to. You want him to know that you love him and you always have. This is not just some hot fucking; this is making love too. At least to you, it is. âYes. I never stopped. Iâm so sorry that Iâoh!âÂ
You canât finish the rest of your heartfelt apology because Gojo is suddenly picking you up with ease, causing you to lace your limbs around him. You squeal when he scoops you up and carries you to the far back of his tour bus where his bed is and tosses you down onto it. No tour needed right now.Â
He then proceeds to put you in mating press, putting his full body weight on you as he dangles your ankles from his broad shoulders and keeps your arms locked around his neck. âYou mustâve said that just to get put into this fuckinâ bed,â he grunts, a feral look in his eye. âYouâre fuckinâ with my head, darlinâ. Drive me crazy!âÂ
He then proceeds to fuck you dumb in mating press, drilling his dick into your satiny, puffy pussy over and over again, fucking you to tears. The sounds that escape your lips are downright slutty and lewd, but you can't help it! His dick is just too good! âOh, shit, shit, shit!â you babble. âGod, Daddy, yes! Fuck me! Fuck me just like that!âÂ
He is so deep, filling the deepest part of you, his abs rubbing against your clit, sending parks of pleasure through your toes up to your head. His pretty face hands above you, a sight to behold. âSay you love me again. Say you want me.â His tone is laced with desperation, his cock pulsating inside of you.Â
With a whimper, you reach up to cup his face, shivering when he leans into your touch. âI love you. I want you so bad, Toru! Need you with me and our daughter!â He smiles and kisses your palm, nuzzling his cheek into your fingertips. âI love you too, darlinâ. I never ever stopped. Every fuckinâ love song I make is about you.âÂ
Your heart swells at his words as your pussy pulsates and throbs around his dick, oozing and gushing down your asscrack to stain his balls and bedspread.
But he doesn't care. He keeps fucking and fucking, pounding your cunt into the bed like itâs his job. And with the way he stares into your eyes, fucking the deepest parts of your soul, you can tell he means every word he utters to you through stuttering moans.Â
âIâm gonna go wherever you go. You stay here, Iâll get you a farm. You go to the city, Iâll get us a fuckinâ penthouse. I donât give a fuck if your folks are rich; I take care of mine.â He locks a hand around your throat and squeezes, just the way he used to, and you feel itâthat tug on your core.Â
âToru,â you whine. âIâm gonna cum again!â With every thrust that knocks you up the bed, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your end. Gojo whimpers as you squeeze him, his thrusts becoming sloppier the wetter you get around him. âM-Me too, mama. I wanna give you this load so bad!âÂ
Yes. You want that more than anything. And it isnât just the sex talking. âDo it! Gimme another kid, Daddy! Make me a mama again!â A switch flips in Gojo and he grins his hips faster, harder, pistoning into you with the fury of a thousand horny fires. âSo my baby wants to be bred? You want your country star to fill ya up with his babies?âÂ
You nearly sob over how good he feels, gripping his muscular forearms for dear life as your orgasm grows near. âYes, yes, yes! Cum in me, Daddy! Please get me pregnant!â With every slam of his hips against yours, going plap-pla-plap as he pounds himself into you, you know that youâre sure to get bred with another baby.Â
Another baby belonging to your love. âGet pregnant fâme, baby,â he gasps. âCâmon, cum with me! Give it all toâŠoh, fuck!â He leans down to swallow your moans as you both get closer, sloppily kissing and sharing your pants as you both come crashing down. With a groan, Gojo empties himself inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum.Â
You feel it pouring out of you, shooting into you, hot, creamy, and sticky. It makes you gush and you cum all over his cock with a sob-like moan, pleasure crackling in your veins like firecrackers. His spunk fills a void in you that has long since been vacant and you smile, feeling an execrating amount of joy and euphoria that takes you higher than a drug ever can.Â
You hold him tight as you cum, arching your back so far off the bed that youâre afraid it will break, still sloppily swirling your tongue with his. It is all so perfect. Heaven on earth. But after a few minutes of Gojo slowly fucking his cum up into you, he grows tired and sighs, pulling away from you. He whistles, staring down at you with a satisfied smirk. "You worked me out, baby girl,â he chuckles.Â
And vice versa. You feel achy and winded already yet totally and supremely satisfiedâŠand sticky. You can feel his cum dripping out of your pussy, soaking your puffy lips and inner thighs, slipping down to your ass crack. Gojo softly laughs, leaning down to give your slit a long lick to slurp up his cum, making you moan. âDamn, I made a real mess. Stay there.âÂ
You giggle as you stay laid out on your back, legs to the ceiling, cum dripping out of your pussy. Gojo shortly returns with a towel soaked in warm water and lavender-scented soap. He gently cleans you up and you hum in relaxation at the sensations.âThank you. For the towel and the load too.âÂ
Gojo clicks his tongue at you, playfully smacking your ass with the towel. âSilly girl. No need to thank me. Iâve been dreaminâ of doinâ that for years now.â He presses a soft kiss to your tummy, making you flush. To think he has been dreaming of making love to you again makes your pussy throb again.Â
But before you can go round two, you need to rest. After Gojo gets you a cool water bottle from the mini fridge, he snuggles with you under the covers. His big body fits so nicely with yoursâŠalmost like you were made for each other. Your fingers glide along his abs, pecs, and beefy arms while he traces shapes over your curves, his big feet playing footsie with yours.Â
In the comfortable silence, something snags you and you can't help but ask him, âDid ya mean whatcha said? About livinâ with me and Tara?â Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation his response. Youâre afraid that it was just sex talk.Â
But to your relief and joy, it wasnât. ââCourse I did,â Gojo replies, kissing your cheek. âSure, Iâd have to work my way up to buildinâ trust with Tara, but yâall are my world. Nothinâ else matters if I donât got my two girls in my life.âÂ
You split into a grin and turn around to face him, holding his face in your hands. âIâm gonna make ya so happy,â he whispers. âI promise. Your aunt is gonna be so glad you chose me, baby, I swear to yââÂ
You donât give him a chance to finish before youâre kissing him, pouring every ounce of happiness and love you have into him. But before the kiss can move onto something else, you hear your phone ringing. âDamn,â Gojo groans, pouting, but he picks your bag up from the couch and hands it to you.Â
You dig into your phone, checking the caller ID. âItâs Utahime,â you announce. You answer, preparing to explain yourself to your anxiety-induced friend. âHey, girl, Iâm not dead. Iâm so sorry that IââÂ
âFuck, Shoko!â she moans. âOh, thatâs so good!â You hear a feminine giggle in the background and a soft popping sound like someone tearing their lips away from a very soaked pussy.
âYeah? You want it faster?â Shoko teases. Then Utahime is moaning her head off, so loud that Gojo can hear it too. At least youâre both getting what you want tonight.Â
You both give each other a knowing look as you slowly hand up the call, struggling to not laugh. âMustâve been a butt dial.â But when Gojo erupts into a fit of laughter, you join in, giggling hysterically. âSheâs fuckinâ my bassist? Iâm NEVER lettinâ her live this down!â he cackles, holding his stomach.Â
After recovering from your laughing fit, Gojo suddenly reaches back behind him and retrieves a guitar. You giggle, figuring that, of course, as a country singer, heâd have a guitar ready on hand. âSpeakinâ of guitars, let me give ya sneak peek of my new stuff.â He gives you an irresistible smile and a wink as he sits up cross-legged, still naked with the guitar in between his legs.Â
You giddily grin at him, propping a hand up to hold your chin as you stare up at him from your side. âYouâre gonna serenade me?â you tease, but youâre blushing all over at the idea of such a hot singer wanted by all serenading only you.Â
He nods, playing a few strings with his guitar pick, steady and skillful. âHell yeah; Iâll do this forever if you want me to.â You feel a delighted shiver run through you at that, figuring that tonight canât get any better for you. âSend a lilâ video to Tara. She needs to know that her papa can sing.âÂ
You giggle and reach for your phone before Gojo begins to play, the sound of his silky voice combined with the sweet strumming of his guitar filling the tour bus. And just like that, you are proven wrong: tonight can get better for you. Sometimes, all it takes is a serenade.Â
ryomen sukuna finally decides to man upâŠ.three months after he spoke to you last. is he too late or will you let him back in?
PART 03: FRAT BROâS DILEMMA
PAIRING: frat bro! ryomen sukuna x fem reader
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. unplanned pregnancy. baby gumi cameo. sukuna being a self absorbed asshole (whatâs new). mention of abortion.
NOTE: halfway through writing a frat series n just found out what a social chair is #embarrassed đđ will be doing more research now
ryomen sukunaâs a man whoâs used to being in control.
of the world shifting in and around his feet to accommodate to the sheer amount of space that he takes up. to being the center of attention in every room that he walked inânecks craning around to get so much as a glimpse, a call of his last name in hopes heâd so much as give a curt nod, a pat on the shoulder.
even in rooms heâs never stepped a foot in, he was the center of attention. name rolling around in waves from one mouth onto the next, rumors spreading like wildfire that heâs never cared to confirm nor deny.
he doesnât remember the last time heâs so much as had to open his mouth to get a woman to talk to him, they usually flock to him like a pack of vultures going after decaying flesh. theyâre eager to talk to him, to be seen with him, to have some proof that they existed around him. but they never actually want to see him. not that it mattersâhe forgets about their name by the time theyâre under him.
it wasnât a fulfilling life by any means, but it filled him with temporary pleasure. thatâs all he neededâor at least, what heâd thought he needed.
meeting you wasnât something extraordinary, something that set his life off kilter. it was purely transactional, youâd teach him how to get through calculus and heâd help you get (unnecessary, in his opinion) extra credit with your professor. then, he started noticing how seriously youâd taken to start tutoring him.
studying straight out the book wasnât cutting it, youâd come to realize. neither was printing out practice problems from khan academy. he wasnât this stupid, you knew that much. âi know you donât want to be here but just tell me what i can do to make this bearable for the both of us,â you suggested one afternoon, tired of going around in circles and circles.
âexplain it to me. not out the book, not from some website, but from your brain,â heâd responded like the answer had been obvious the whole time. so, you did. started wording things in a way that you normally would, made it easier to grasp epsilon-delta proofs even if it took you two weeks.
sukuna started noticing little things about you, too: from the way you color coded your journals: red for stats, blue for english, purple for the history and culture of edo japan, to the way you nibbled down on your pen when even you were having a hard time explaining infinite sequences. how you started keeping a little snack around in case he needed it after basketball practice (he always did).
you were everything he shouldâve hated himself for liking, everything he did hate himself for liking, and yet here he was. standing in front of your dorm building, heart pounding in his eardrum.
sukunaâs been many things throughout his life.
basketball captain, frat vice president, an asshole, a chronic avoider and ghoster, heâs been a liar.
but what he hasnât been is just plain old discarded.
replaced.
and by none other than president of nerd-central himself, satoru gojo.
satoru gojo who once had a head brace on in high school, crooked teeth forced shut by metal clasp after metal clasp that left him with a lisp. satoru gojo that once went over digimon evolutions for bio 101âwriting a twenty page analysis and getting an a for it.
satoru gojo who has a prized membership at barnes and nobles, spending most of time wearing hideous sweater vests and burying his face in a book.
but here you are, getting walked up to your dorm building by that nerd with his fingers splayed across your back. his touch cautious, gently guiding you up the stairs to your building. youâre in one of his hoodies, hands fiddling with the sleeves as if youâre debating giving it back. you donât.
the part that gets him the most about your interaction with gojo is that you seem happy being around him, happy in a way heâs never given you the opportunity to be around him. itâs stupid, but sukuna swears he couldâve wrung his scrawny ass neck just for giving you a forehead kiss.
sukuna doesnât think twice before speeding back off to the frat house, breaking nearly every traffic law in existence. he doesnât punch a wall like an overgrown man child (though the thought of putting satoruâs face on the door to throw darts lingers), instead, he just sits there. in pure silence and in the dark.
he thinks about calling yoruzu or any of the multiple unsaved numbers on his phoneâany of them that would be showing up to his door before he even got the chance to ask them to come over with their panties half down their knees.
for once, the thought makes him want to throw up.
then, he thinks about trying to make things right with you, of showing up to your dorm with a cheap bouquet of roses from the grocery store and a half-assed apology. youâd probably push him away, and itâd be well deserved.
he hasnât bothered to show up or even try to make an attempt to talk to you in months, leaving you to struggle through your pregnancy alone. sukuna had seen you throughout campus, had seen you attempt to hide your belly with oversized t-shirts, had seen how fatigued you looked after walking down a hall.
that thought makes him even more nauseous.
sukuna settles for calling toji over instead.
this used to be tojiâs scene once upon a time (just two years ago), showing up to every frat rager with a different girl on his arm. losing his shirt halfway into the night, manicured nails trailing up the defined ridges of his stomach. phone blowing up the next day from those very same girls, demanding a text back that never came.
instead, now he walks into the house with a baby strapped onto his chest, megumi staring at his surroundings with mild curiosity and a thumb in between his lips. itâs a messâbeer bottles scattered throughout every surface, leaving behind condensation rings thatâd be a pain in the ass to try to clean up later, a few clothes that the underclassmen left strewn around on lamp posts.
itâs weird seeing toji so put together, so grown up. though, itâs a sight that fits him, sukuna has to admit that much.
toji plops onto the couch with a thud, one hand on megumiâs back while he adjusts against the cushions. the baby lets out a yawn before burying his face deeper against tojiâs shirt, one tiny hand clasped around the fabric.
âyou want a beer, man?â sukuna calls out from the kitchen, perusing through the drinks selection in the fridge. a few cans of budweiser, a nearly finished bottle of absolut vodka, three cans of red bull and monster, and a half empty bottle of water. not like he had much to offer, regardless.
ânah, iâll get a water.â sukuna grabs the pathetic excuse for a water (making a mental note to buy more, chances are heâll forget by tomorrow) and a can of budweiser. he tossed over the bottle weâre toji was sitting, taking a seat at the other end of the couch. spreading wiiide open while he turns on the tv, getting a game queued up.
the two of them settled on 2k, the game starting off fairly competitive. insults were thrown, names were muttered, controllers were thrown, before any actual conversation started to take place. even then, it was about the frat, about torture methods initiation procedures for the new pledges, about whatever their minds could come up with.
sukuna decides now is as good of a time as any to bite the bullet. he gulps down the rest of his beer in one quick chug, crushing the can in his palm before glancing over at toji. âhowâd you know you were ready to be a dad and shit?â he speaks up, vaguely gesturing to where megumi was still peacefully asleep against his fatherâs chest.
toji lets out a sigh that makes him sound double his age, his expression one of complete devotion upon looking down at megumi. of pure adoration to the bundle of joy that his wife brought into the world.
âi wasnât ready. thought i wanted thisââ toji merely looked around at the space around them, memories rushing back like a fright train before he continued, ââlife forever. of hooking up and getting drunk every weekend. but the little guyâs mom needed me to be, so here i am. buying diapers and readinâ bed time stories.â
âmm. makes sense.â
âwhatâs with the question, man? you planninâ on settling down soon?â toji questions, letting out a snort, âor did ya get a girl pregnant?â itâs spoken of as a joke, his laugh echoing across the quiet halls of the house.
sukuna doesnât dignify that with a response. he picks at the tab on the crushed can, trying to look everywhere but the man sitting next to him. even looking up at the hideous painting choso hung on the wall and tried to excuse as âabstract.â toji sees right through the act, his laughter quickly fading into a disbelieving scoff.
âno fucking way man,â toji manages to get out, eyes practically the size of saucers. âcongrats.â the man reaches out to pat sukuna on the back, each one more awkward than the last.
he only manages to get out a grunt of acknowledgment, âthanks man,â sukuna mutters out, arms coming to lay behind his head after the gameâs been discarded, âbut i messed up. me and baby mama arenât talking anymore.â
toji lets out a low whistle. he took a large swig of water, haphazardly throwing it off to the side where it only added even more to the mess surrounding the coffee table. âwhatâd you do to her?â
âgave her a couple hundred bucks for the abortion and a happy meal. said i didnât wanna be a dad,â sukuna merely shrugged in response, barely managing to avoid the punch toji sent to his arm.
âno shit she doesnât want anything to do with you,â once again, toji does nothing but state the obvious.
âi know that much. donât know how to be back in her life when sheâs avoiding me like the plague.â
âyou gotta apologize. say youâre sorry for beinâ a dick. let her know you wanna be a part of the babyâs life,â toji answered like it was the simplest thing in the world, like they were just discussing what to eat. âdonât expect her to let you back in, but show her youâre tryin.ââ
it sounds easier than it is, but he knows thatâs his only option. the two of them continue playing a few more rounds before mrs, fushiguro ended up calling about dinner finally being ready. megumi had been calm throughout the evening, peacefully asleep and content with his binky and wolf-themed pacifier.
âlook man, just think about i said,â toji speaks up once heâs about to step out of the room, pacing around in circles to keep megumi asleep, âpregnancyâs hard and shitââ understatement of the year, ââso think about âer and how sheâs feeling instead of making it about you.â
gojoâs getting all the moments that heâs missing out on, the moments that he should be by your side. thatâs the only thought that runs through his head while heâs speeding down the street, making his way over to your dorm.
sukuna doesnât get out of the car upon arriving, though. lets the engine run on idle, fingertips tapping against the leather steering wheel to the song playing over the speakers. the song ends far too quickly for his taste, going to the next one up on his playlist. his fingers still against the wheel.
he came here to demand something he isnât entitled to and he doesnât even know what to say to you.
âyo, what the fuck are you doing with that nerd?â too aggressive, even he can begrudgingly admit that part.
âcâmon ma. iâll do anything to be part of the babyâs life again, i swear on my ps5.â too pathetic by his standards.
his hands run through his hair, pink strands sticking up in nearly direction but up right. far too messy for his liking. he runs his hand through them again, a frustrated groan leaving his lips when they only get more messed up. after a few more times of doing so, he decides to let his hair be. heâs doing everything and anything to avoid getting out of the car just yet, even going as far to check his reflection in the carâs mirror.
a few people stop in their paths to look through the window, confused at the man talking to himself and gesturing to nothing in particular. sukuna looks insane, heâs aware. this is what youâve led him to. with one quick glare, the people staring are soon enough getting back on their merry way, pretending as if it never happened in the first place.
he crosses the road in quick strides, entering your dorm building as someone else is leaving. the floor smells like stale laundry, food containers spilling out of trash bins outside, paint peeling off the walls in thick sheets. sukuna really needed to figure out a better living arrangement for you.
he approaches the half bored ra sitting at their desk, not even giving him a glance as they continue to scroll through their phone. sukuna clears his throat obnoxiously so, garnering the attention of even those just passing by. âcan i help you?â
sukuna gives them your name and a brief description of your appearance, able to get your room number with just a quick search. the elevatorâs broken which leaves him going up the stairs, taking two at a time and avoiding the students coming down with heap after heap of laundry in their basket.
he doesnât knock on the door just yet, listening to the chatter going on inside through paper thin walls. he hears your voice call out to shoko, a small laugh leaving your lips afterwards. it makes his chest clench. he amounts it to heartburn.
he really should stop drinking so much red bull. (itâs not the red bull.)
the longer that he stands here, the more underprepared that he feels. every apology heâd practiced in the car before coming up here faded from his memory, leaving him scrambling to try to find the pieces. the overpriced $10 bouquet he picked up from the gas station (the flowers are dying, he was in a rush), suddenly feels like too little.
just as soon as heâs about to leave your door and resign himself to a life of mediocre hookups and a life of not knowing his kid, he brings his hand up. knock. knock. just two short knocks to disrupt the routine you had going on, to disrupt the noise that was going on inside.
âare you expecting someone?â he hears shoko speak behind the door.
âno, let me check who it is though.â
the door swings open about five seconds the later, the smile on your face quickly fades away at the sight of sukuna standing at your door. your arms cross across your chest defensively, blocking yourself off from him. âwhat do you want.â
you spoke to sukuna like he was nothing more than a pest, nothing more than just a nuisance. but damn, if you didnât look beautiful even while you were glaring daggers at him. after seeing only glimpses of you around campus, either with shoko or alone, this was a sight that was more than welcome.
itâs still early on in your pregnancy. maybe three, four months max. but given that the giant in front of youâs nearly seven feet tall, youâre already starting to show. not much, but a little bump peeks out underneath the oversized tee you had on.
you have a soft glow to your face that makeup couldnât replicate, an aura that he wants nothing more than to bask in for as long as youâd let him. which apparently doesnât seem like itâll be long just based on the glare youâre shooting him.
âwell?â you prompt, foot tapping against the hardwood floor. right, you wanted to know what he was doing here. sukuna swallowed dryly, holding the door open with his foot before you shut it in front of face. câmon idiot, speak.
his grip on the bouquet of flowers in hand tightens, knuckles a shade of ghostly white. the flowers pathetically droop to one side, almost as pathetic as he feels standing in front of you again. he extends them out to you, watching as you take them with a wary gaze.
you donât thank himâsukuna expects that much already, but you donât throw them away. you simply set them aside like youâre still considering what to do with them. sukuna hopes youâll give him that same amount of consideration.
he clears his throat, âour last conversation didnât go well.â that earns a sharp scoff from you, seconds ticking down on an imaginary clock. still, he manages to continue, âi know i said i didnât wanna be a dad. but i want to be a part of the babyâs life now. go to appointments with you and all the shit youâre doing with gojo.â
âso youâre only doing this because youâre jealous of gojo.â itâs not a question, itâs a simple observation. grass is green. the sky isnât blue but rather a reflection of the sunâs rays on the earthâs atmosphere. and ryomen sukuna is fucking jealous of satoru gojo.
âyes, i am jealous,â the words come out like theyâre being forced out of him, each syllable strained as it leaves his tongue. sukunaâs brows furrow, shaking his head before begrudgingly continuing, âiâm jealous that heâs getting everything iâm not.â
itâs well deserved, a little voice in his head spoke. he immediately shut that one down.
âand whoâs fault is that?â you donât miss the chance to respond, about to say more when your phone buzzes in your pocket. gojo.
five minutes away :3 i brought kikifuku donât tell shoko
a small, involuntary smile forms on your face at the sight.
itâs become routine at this pointâhaving him take you to your appointments and go out to eat after. maybe study for an upcoming exam, play a round of digimon until you had to keel over the toilet. it hasnât been easy, by any means, even if you were just starting your first trimester, but shoko and gojo had been a great help through it all.
this month, gojoâs research had informed him that the embryo would start to turn into a fetus. that it would start to move around, grow nails and hair, that it would start to resemble, well, a baby.
âjust tell him to fuck off,â sukuna speaks up, glaring at your phone like it personally offended him, âspend the day with me, mama. iâll take you out and buy some baby clothes or whatever you want.â
you wouldâve swooned to hear him say that two months ago. instead, you just feel a throbbing headache pounding at the back of your skull. and a strong urge to just punch him in the mouth. it feels forcedâa way to throw even more money in your face after heâd fucked up, that heâd confirmed your worst fear upon approaching him with the news.
and now youâre painfully aware that while the man in front of you has been absent and self centered, gojo had taken it upon himself to be someone that you could grow to depend on. offering a ride without so much as you needing to say a word, holding your hand throughout your appointments. to simply being by your side without complaint.
you couldnât just bring yourself to tell him to turn around just because the big oaf feels threatened. feels entitled to come back into your life whenever he pleases, whenever he decides itâs not so much of a shame to be around you.
âiâm not going to say no to gojo just because you want to be a part of the babyâs life now,â you respond calmly, measured to a fault, âbut if youâre really serious about trying to make this work, come to the baby shower in two weeks.â
not much, but an olive branch. a peace offering to help him prove himself.
you're out of your element at one of the frat parties sukuna's hosting, left to your own devices for most of the night. one thing leads to another, you're in his bed tonight and with a positive test five weeks later?
01: DOUBLE SHOTS AND DOUBLE LINES
FEATURING: frat bro! ryomen sukuna x fem! reader
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. sukuna's kind of an asshole. fingering. unprotected p in v. tit sucking. throat grabbing (f receiving). doggy. belly bulge. unplanned pregnancy. implied talks about abortion.
NOTE: due to popular request (15 people who voted yes) this series is back :p will b reworking on some of the parts before posting them back up again and sorry again for the inconvenience!
frat parties were never really your scene.
always too loud, too sticky, too many people bunched up in one room like a pack of sardines to where you didn't know where the crowd ended and where it started. not even the alcohol was appealing: if you wanted a cheap beer that tasted like piss, you could easily go to the gas station near campus and buy it for two dollars.
many students lived with the thrill of finding the next party, of getting dressed up and losing themselves after a week of classes and exams. you never felt like you were missing out on much, never felt like you needed to go to one to complete your college experience. you were happy staying in your dorm, curled up with a book and a movie playing in the background.
and yet, here you were. standing in front of nu sigma kappaâs house on a friday night at 11 pm.
the air felt stifling just by stepping into the house: weed, beer, and sweat mixing in one putrid concoction that had your head spinning a minute in. every breath of oxygen almost felt stolen, lucky. your body rattled down to the very bone with each loud thrum of the bass, speakers penetrating through paper thin walls.
the people inside carried themselves with an ease you were almost envious of, completely in their element as they either lean against a wall with a red solo cup in hand or sprawled out over the few couches in the living roomâfitting five people in a couch meant for three. youâre an outsider peering in, pretending youâre in the same boat.
that you frequented these parties as often as they did instead of usually spending your time cooped up in the library at 10 pm on a saturday. that you werenât silently counting down the seconds until you called it a night.
the skirt youâd borrowed from your roommate, shoko, inches up with each sway of your hips, fingertips glued by your sides in an attempt to smooth the material down. youâre trying to fit into a costume and failingâlow cut top itchy and uncomfortable against your body, strappy heels making your feet ache with each step, each strap cutting into the skin of your leg.
thereâs nothing about this situation that feels like you, that makes you feel comfortable.
youâre only really here because of the guy youâre tutoring: ryomen sukuna.
his name touches a room before he ever doesâin hushed whispers about the parties heâs thrown, the women heâs slept with, the many times that heâs been arrested spreading like wildfire. rumors that are too insane, bordering on criminal following each step that he took. the worst thing? he wouldnât deny or confirm, just merely grunt about being left the hell alone.
still, thereâs nowhere you can go without hearing about him in some way, shape, or form.
you only wished he was as dedicated to going over calculus equations as he was throwing parties. his grade had dropped down to a 36.7% when your professor had assigned you to help him out, ready to give you as much extra credit as was necessary to deal with a guy like him. no amount of it was ever enough to deal with the aching headache that you left with, but anything for your grade.
sukuna didnât show up to your tutoring sessions half the time. making up some excuse of having a late night practice or simply saying he didnât want to come only to see him on some sorority sisterâs instagram story mere moments later. and the few times that he did manage to show up, he ended up showing thirty minutes later.
as smart as you were, you were anything but a miracle worker.
though, heâd been showing up more now that you had finals coming up. taking up more of your time despite not understanding derivatives and differentiation half the time. sukuna doesnât take your time seriously, spending his time making fun of you and on his phone instead.
today had been no different. sukuna propped his feet up on the table, dangerously leaning back in his seat while he scrolled through some dumb shit on his phone. you could feel your patience fraying by the second, the book in your hands slamming shut. the librarian turned to look over, a scowl already painted on her features.
you made a mental note to go apologize later.
âare you just wasting my time here?â you bring yourself to ask in a hushed whisper shout. sukuna sets his phone face down, folding his arms across his chest.
âand what if i am? not like you got anythinâ important going on.â at that, you instantly got up from your chair. packing up your books, grumbling under your breath about assholes in fraternities, âspending money to get hazed like an idiot, thinking heâs the shit when heâs not even a tootâŠâ
pushing your backpack over your shoulders, you reach over to pick up the rest of your stuff off the table. phone, chapstick, the last of your dignity. the chair across from you scrapes against the floor, sukuna getting up and approaching you. âalright, my bad. clearly you do have more important shit going on than tutoring me.â he looks uncomfortable with each word that leaves his lips.
good.
âlet me make it up to you. fratâs hosting a party this saturday, goinâ to be drinks, you should let loose. iâll get you in for free.â you shouldâve ignored the offer. youâre sure he wouldnât have noticed if you did. but here you were. standing in a room full of people you donât know with music thatâs making your head throb.
you make your way over to the kitchen, passing through the throng of people standing around, digging through one of the coolers. thereâs a specific cooler designated just for twisted tea and trulys, you quickly come to learn. another one just for cans of budweiser and corona. neither one is appealing.
âcould make you a rum nâ coke if beer isnât in your palate, princess.â you hear behind you, turning to see sukuna leaning against the counter with mild amusement.
âplease.â sukuna slinks off the counter, grabbing a bottle from a cabinet near the sink. itâs nearly half full, hidden away from the rest of the people hanging around the house. he takes a cup, pouring in a bit of coke before filling the rest of it with rum.
a small spark passes through your body when his fingertips graze against your own. you take a tentative sip from the cup, the taste of rum burning down your throat as it overpowers the slight tinges of coke mixed in.
âgood?â
âfucking burns,â you let out a hoarse whisper, taking another sip from your cup regardless, âbut yeah, good.â
sukuna approaches you like a predator stalking up on its prey, leaning against the counter next to you. he leans his head down in a way that has most sorority sisters (and you) clenching their thighs together, leaning down like youâre the only two people in the room. âi didnât think youâd come.â
you down the rest of the shot in one gulp, setting the cup beside you. âi didnât think iâd come either. itâs not really my scene, but⊠itâs nice seeing you.â
âyou know her?â one of his frat bros breaks through your conversation, a teasing smirk on his face as he gives you a once over.
âthis nerd?â sukuna pulls away from you almost instantly, the lack of his presence next to you leaving a pout on your gloss covered lips. a snort left his lips at the ridiculous notion, ânah, tellinâ her the book clubâs halfway across campus.â
youâre left alone yet again after sukuna pretends you donât even existâpretends like heâs not the one who even suggested you come out to this place in the first place. and maybe youâre stubborn, unwilling to take a clue, but you decide to stick it out. talk to a few people you had a class with, pretend like you wanted to be in a conversation as the hours ticked by.
the shortest dude in the frat stands up on the burgundy futon in the living room at around three in the morning, cupping his hands around his mouth, "if you ain't a brother or fucking with a brother, get out! you don't gotta go home but you can't stay here!"
everyone around you begins to disperse, leaving in small groups. already talking about a darty being hosted the next morning. half empty cups line up the edges of the table, scattered cans crinkled on the floor. a few people are left making out on the couch, unaware of their surroundings. you toss your empty cup away in a trash bin, pulling your phone out of your purse to get ready to leave.
youâre mentally contemplating if the $20 uber trip is worth it when you feel a hand resting against the small of your back. the familiar scent of dior sauvage infiltrates your nostrils, sukunaâs body heat seeping in from the proximity. his head drops down, his lips against your ear in a way that has a shiver running down your spine, âyou wanna fuck with a brother?â
as corny as that line was, it worked.
you follow him up the stairs to the last door at the end of the hall, the biggest room in the entire frat. while the rest of the house is bathed in chaos and muck, his space was relatively clean.
an actual bed with a headboard with bedsheets (wow) pushed against the wall in the middle of the room, a couple posters from bands you donât recognize lining up his walls.
sukuna doesnât give you the chance to look at his choice of decor for longâhoisting you up against the door as soon as you step in. your legs wrap around his waist, fingers digging into his broad shoulders while his hips roll onto your panty-clad pussyâletting you feel how hard he is for you.
for the nerd heâs not supposed to be attracted to.
his lips move down, kissing his way down the sensitive skin of your neck. your head flies back, more of yourself exposed to his greedy, fervent touch. large hands move down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake as he lifts your shirt over your head.
youâre left in a lace bra youâd picked out on a whim at victoria secret, a red piece that barely manages to cover your nipples. sukuna moves a finger underneath the strap, pulling back just enough for it to sting.
âlook at ya. like you were hoping youâd get fucked, fucking slut,â he taunts, reaching back, unclipping your bra with an ease youâre almost envious of before tossing it to the side.
sukuna takes one of your tits in his mouth, tongue swirling around your peaked nub. his other hand snakes in between your legs, rubbing two thick fingers against the slick front of your panties and tracing your folds through the wet fabric. âwant it that bad? youâre fucking dripping.â
âa-ah yeah, please,â youâre moaning already, nodding along like a bobblehead. his fingers push your slick panties to the side, the two pumping inside of your dripping cunt. your back arches with the curl of his fingers, your pussy swallowing the digits.
sukuna pumps his fingers in and out of you quickly, your cunt gushing and squelching around him. his mouth latches onto your tit, suctioning his lips around the sensitive skin while his tongue flicks at your erect nipple. âa-ah fuck, so so good,â youâre babbling, one of your hands tangling in his hair.
his thick fingers move in a scissoring motion, spreading you wider and wiiider. his hips buck up into your cunt, thick cock imprinted in the material of his jeans. your hips move against his fingers, pushing them deeper inside of you while his mouth moves onto your other tit.
his thumb rolls against your clit, pushing you to your incoming orgasm. âyou wanna cum?â sukunaâs lips move up the column on your neck, his tongue tracing your jugular. âyeah, wanna cum,â you whine in response, your pussy tightening up around his fingers.
âcum, then.â your head flies back against the door at the command, your toes curling in your heels. his fingers pump inside once, then twice before youâre spurting around his fingers, drenching him in your release. sukuna slides his fingers out of your pussy, tapping them against your mouth.
your tongue darts out, tasting yourself on them before they slide in bewteen your lips. it glides up and down his fingers, swirling around his fingertips before you release off them with a loud pop!
he slides his shirt off with one hand, pushing it over his head. heâs ripped. youâd felt, of course youâd felt it, but it was a different thing seeing just how big his biceps wereâpractically the size of your head, how defined his abs were from extensive training.
âlike what you see?â he notices your stare, the question snapping out of it. thereâs already a cocky smirk on his face, his fingers working on unbuttoning his 501s and sliding his belt off the loops.
ây-youâre conventionally attractive,â you retort in defense, âwith nice proportions and all thaâŠ.â the words die off when you see him push his boxers down, his cock slapping against his stomach upon being released. itâs long, about eight inches, with a girth that rivals the width of your wrist.
precum glistens and drips off the flushed tip, drip drip drip. you hoist yourself up on your knees and elbows, your back arched and ass up in the air. âmy dick conventionally attractive too?â he teased, his dick swaying back nâ forth with each step he took closer to the bed.
âmhm, itâs pretty.â a low chuckle leaves his lips at your quiet admission. he wraps his hand around the base, jerking himself off once before he lines himself up. your eyes scrunch tightly at the stretch, thick mushroom tip splitting your folds apart as he pushes in. sukuna molds your pussy to the shape of his cock, pushing inch after inch inside.
he bottoms out, balls snug against your ass before pulling out, pushing back into you in one swift thrust that knocks the air out of your lungs. each one that follows is slow but deep, your nails digging into the bedsheets below. only when youâre ready to take more is that he speeds up, his pace punishing from the beginning.
thereâs nothing romantic about the way sukuna fucks. his cock pounds into you like your pussy owes him money. your ass jiggles back against him, moving back against him in an attempt to meet his thrusts. his fingers dig into the supple skin of your hips, leaving himself imprinted in nearly every way possible.
the music drowns out your muffled moans, your nails digging onto the sheets beside you. âf-fuck, youâre in deep!â you whine out, head buried into the pillows while he bullies his tip against your g-spot.
âyeah? feel how fucking deep i am.â he takes your hand, pressing against your lower belly where his tipâs bulging out. cock drunk and fucked out, you nod your head along. thereâs nothing in your head but sukuna, nothing other than just how good heâs fucking into you.
his hand wraps around your throat, not enough to choke you, but enough to turn your face towards him. he exchanges a sloppy kiss, strings of saliva connecting you to him. his tongue pushes past your plush lips, your moans swallowed by his mouth like the finest of drinks.
you chase after his lips when he pulls away, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. âyou want a kiss that bad?â he all but pouts in the same way you are, giving your lips one quick peck before he finally manages to pulls away.
he plants one of his feet on the plush mattress, his hands pulling your body back towards him like a ragdoll while his cock drills into you. "oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! kuna, right there, fuck me!"Â the wooden headboard smacks against the wall with each brutal thrust of hips, rattling a couple things cluttering up his bed stand. drool spits from the corner of your lips, your eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy.
one of his hands moves down in between your legs, fingertips rubbing against your clit in quick little circles. while your previous orgasm had been a slow build of his fingers, his mouth, feeling him everywhere at once, this one hits you quick and hard. âoh fuck, kuna!â you drench his cock, spilling out onto the sheets underneath.
your legs shake and quiver with the trembles of the aftershock of your release, your knees threatening to give out under you. sukuna keeps a hand on the small of your back, keeping you in that arch while he sloppily thrusts into you. he's quicker now, his thrusts shallow while his balls tighten up with his impending orgasm.
âcâmon, slut. take. every. fuckingââ he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust, his cock twitching inside of you, ââdrop.â
thick after thick spurts of cum coat your inside white, his cock pushing it all that much deeper into your womb. your walls clenched tightly around his shaft, milking him for all his worth. he pulls out his softening cock after a couple seconds, giving your ass a singular tap to let you know he was done.
cum trickles down your legs in milky trails as you shove your panties back on, trying to get dressed as quickly as you can. the partyâs died down outside, lights shut off and halls quiet. you pull your skirt back on, your back turned towards him.
sukuna pulls up his boxers, plopping down on the mattress. heâs fiddling with a lighter, waiting until youâre about to leave to speak, âiâll see you for our tutoring sesh.â
you, in fact, donât see him for your tutoring session. avoiding him becomes an active effort, slinking between corners of the halls to avoid seeing him on the off chance you stumble upon him. what were you supposed to say to the guy whoâd been buried deep within your guts just a few days back?
nothing, thatâs what.
in all honesty, you want to forget that you hooked up with him in the first place. with the guy who didn't think you were good enough to be seen in public with him, but good enough to be fucking around with in between closed doors. he'd been a mistake, that's all that it was.Â
it takes a few weeks for you to notice the changes. you were trying to forget about sukuna that you didn't take into account what actually went down that night. youâd dismissed your late period with the stress from upcoming finals week. youâd dismissed your increased appetite on that very same stress, odd cravings at midnight under that same pretense. but then came the things you couldnât dismiss so easily.
sleeping in halfway through the day, often times missing most of your morning classes, if not all. having to go pee nearly every five minutes. feeling nauseous at just the pungent scent of fried food stands lining the streets, throwing up in your mouth just the littlest bit.
the positive pregnancy test in your hand does nothing to ease your worries, does nothing to soothe your soul. it only serves to affirm what youâd been dreading with each day your period didnât come. what were you supposed to do? could you even afford keeping a baby?
youâd already mourned the $30 youâd spent on an abundance of pregnancy testsâonly to get the same result each and every time.
it wasnât impossibleâraising a kid on top of an already heavy course load. many of the older adults in your classes managed. but you truly didnât know what to do in that moment, nothing other than sinking down on your bathroom floor while willing the second line to be a mistake. willing that somehow all five tests on your bathroom counter were false positives.
you spend nearly half an hour with your head buried in your hands, processing the results. thereâs a fetus growing inside of you. a fetus from a guy youâve barely exchanged two conversations with before he pretended he didnât know you. with a guy youâre certain couldnât be paternal if his life depended on it.
your roommate comes home to find you in the shared bathroom, plopping down on the floor next to you. shokoâs nothing if not attentive, lightly rubbing your shoulder. âyou should tell him. he deserves that much,â she whispered, wrapping an arm around you.
âcan i just stay here for right now?â the thought of having to face him made you all that much more nauseous. of having to actually voice the fact that youâd gotten pregnant by ryomen sukuna. if you didnât say it, it wasnât real just yet.
âstay here as long as you need. iâm not going anywhere either.â shoko stayed by your side throughout the night, offering to buy takeout and watch a movie. the dread remained buried deep inside despite each forced laugh that left your lips at the right moments of the movie.
the next couple days, you spend your time trying to figure out how you should break the news. pinterest hasnât been that much help, offering ideas from a corny gift basket to a onesie saying âyouâre a daddy!â how ridiculous.
however, you donât get much time to think about it. sukuna approaches you at the library on a day youâre supposed to be studying the anatomy of a dolphin. he looms over your table, his arms folded across his chest. âyouâre avoiding me.â he almost sounds pissed off, his voice gruff.
of course, it only happens when no one else is around to notice the two of you interacting.
you meet his gaze, your mouth opening before shutting back again. the words die in your tongue about four times before you manage to spit them out, âiâm pregnant.â digging through your sweater, you take out one of the many tests in a plastic bag.
sukuna malfunctions at that very moment, every connection linked to the motherboard severed off. he blinks slowly, barely registering the two dark lines on the pregnancy test youâd handed over. he looks from you over to the test, and then back to you again. like you were the crazy one here.
eventually, after the shock managed to wear off, he digs through his brown leather wallet. fishing out the couple hundred dollar bills that were meant to be used for this weekâs supply of beer.
âaye look, youâre hot and all,â he speaks up, clearing his throat. sukuna grabs your hand, placing the crumpled up money in your palm, âbut i ainât ready to be a dad.â
It happened every time Sukuna would nap, his stomach mouth would awaken like another whole entity itself and start talking to you, somehow sensing your presence every time.
Its voice, deeper than Sukunaâs yet still extremely similar, drawled out slowly. âI have always wondered what youâd taste like, woman.â
Your throat bobs nervously. âCanât you taste things from both mouths?â
He hummed ânoâ, lip twitching up into a smirk. âCare to appease my wishes? I can already feel you throbbing on my thigh.â
You shift upon Sukunaâs lap, the man himself still deep in sleep. He remained with his eyelids fluttered closed as you slipped off the silk robe you were wearing and discarded your underwear, slowly shuffling up his abdomen until you were hovering over the stomach mouth.
âDonât leave a starved man waiting,â the stomach growled beneath you, breath touching in between your legs and making your thighs squeeze against either side of his torso.
Hesitantly, you lowered yourself down until the thick tongue pressed flat against your heat, sinking into your slick and licking a long strip fron your hole to your clit. Your nails dig into your husbands skin immediately, lower lip tucked between your teeth to try and quieten your moans.
âAre- are you sure about this?â You ask tentatively, glancing up at Sukuna sleeping soundly.
âMmm,â the mouth hums in pleasure. âVery sure.â
You writhed and moaned atop him, head tipping back in ecstasy, any remaining sensibility leaving your brain the second the long, thick tongue delved into your hole and ate you out as if you were its last meal and it was the sweetest thing it had ever tasted.
Youâd finished twice already when Sukuna grumbled on the bed, hands twitching and eyes flickering, threatening to open and expose you of your current act. The speed at which you pull off his stomach makes the bed shake violently, throwing the discarded robe over your naked body as quickly as possible.
Itâs your erratic movements that causes your husband to fully wake, slipping from unconsciousness and blindly reaching for you. You settle down next to him casually. âIâm here, Ryo.â
âHm,â he grumbles sleepily. âDid you rest?â
You nod. âMhm.â
âGood.â
Thereâs a beat of silence as you both settle down to sleep again.
àšà§ cockwarming megumi fushiguro while you play tomodachi life
your boyfriend megumi was honestly not prepared for how much time you would spend playing tomodachi life when he bought it for you.
at any given downtime, he saw you with your switch in your hand, playing with your miis day and night. he already had to go through this when you got animal crossing all those years ago, he could not do this again.
he wouldnât go as far as saying he was a clingy lover, but he loved spending time with you, and wasnât fond of having to share your attention with a video game. unfortunately for him, you tended to give games like these more attention than him whenever you got hooked on them.
he couldnât be too upset, he was happy that you were enjoying the game, especially because he bought it for you. but he missed spending downtime with you, having your attention on him instead of some cute game.
so he proposed a compromise.
that being that you can keep playing your game, but you had to give him some attention too. attention being sitting on his cock.
he let out a deep sigh, chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you play tomodachi life. your warm slick walls were snug around his cock, twitching inside of you, begging for movement. he kept still though, keeping his promise and letting you play your game.
âis this supposed to be me?â megumi mumbled, hands soothingly trailing up and down your thigh as he spotted a mii that resembled him. jet black spiked hair from behind being a dead giveaway. you chuckled, shifting to get more comfortable in his hold. you werenât used to him being inside idle inside you like this, but it didnât necessarily feel bad either. âyeah, i made you last night! check this out!â you said excitedly, bringing the cursor over his mii and clicking on him.
âoh..hello.â his mii said calmly, bowing with his greeting. megumi couldnât help the chuckle that escaped his lips when he heard the mii version of himself speak. âwow, it even sounds like me.â he said with a smile, watching as you fed him and talked to him. âhowâd you get my scars on his face like that?â he asked softly, admiring how you got every detail onto his mii. âface paintâŠi donât have a stylus so i had to draw your crazy bangs and scars myself.â you teased with a knowing grin.
he thrusted into you gently, biting back a wider smile at your yelp. âmy hair isnât that crazyâŠâ he mumbled in your cheek before kissing it, slowly continuing to thrust into your warmth as you rocked back against him. âi thought you said i would just be sitting on it.â you remarked between a moan, feeling his hips come to a stop. he huffed in annoyance, cock twitching and begging for more stimulation in your slick pussy.
ânot my fault you feel so good..â he mumbled lamely in defense. you chuckled, feeling his obvious restraint as you pulled up his miiâs relationship tab, scrolling through to see if he has talked to anyone since you last played. âit says me and you are strangers.â he stated, continuing to loom over your shoulder at the screen.
âi know, i wanted to wait and show you your mii first, then make us meet.â you snuggled further against his chest, one of his hands now holding you by your waist to pull you impossibly closer. you picked up his mii and dragged him over to your mii, placing him in front of you. the screen went black for a moment before lighting back up to show him walking. âuhâŠdo they always have cutscenes when they meet?ââ he cut himself off when a crazy sound effect played, his miiâs eyes widening as he stared at yours, cartoonish romantic music now coming from your game system as your mii made eye contact with his, before promptly walking past him.
his mii literally fell in love with yours the second it saw you.
âoh my god! megs! youâre in love with me!â you squealed excitedly as the prompt came up, quickly clicking âitâs love!â as megumi smiled at your happiness, a small huff of laughter as he pressed soft kisses against your neck. âyeah, i definitely remember it happening that way.â he teased, trailing kisses along your sensitive neck. you squirmed in his lap with giggles as you tried to keep playing the game, seeing that your boyfriend was now suddenly enamored with kissing your neck. he gripped your hips, groaning softly into your skin. âdonât move too much.â he warned quietly, restraint evident in his voice as he twitched deep inside you, pre cum leaking from his neglected dick.
the both of you almost forgot he was inside of you, too deep into tomodachi life to remember that he was seethed to the hilt into your cunt. if he was being honest, he was feeling too lazy for sex, he just wanted to be as close to you as physically possible. heâd be lying if he said you didnât feel amazing wrapped around him, though. he released his grip to knead at your plush skin as he watched your mii and his finally have a conversation.
you continued to show him around your island, the islands name being after his domain, âshadow garden island.â he loved the fact that even if you wasnât paying him any attention, that you still thought about him. you showed him your house and your other residents houses, your island format and decoration, any tiny detail that any normal person would miss. âyou put a lot of thought and care into this, huh?â he asked softly, even though he already knew the answer. you always put thought in care into everything you did, one of the many reasons he fell in love with you.
minutes blurred into several, those minutes passed into an hour as both of you got engrossed in the nintendo game. he had practically gone soft inside you at this point, that didnât mean he wanted to pull out by any means. âhey..â he began softly, a hand rubbing your shoulder to get your attention. you hummed in response, his fingers trailing up further to your cheek and pressing your head to the side to surprise you with a soft kiss. you melted into it, lips moving in sync against his as he hummed in satisfaction, kissing lazily and almost forgetting about the game in your hands.
âi love you.â he spoke softly, smiling against your lips when you reciprocated his love with your own âi love you too.â he pressed his lips against yours quickly before pulling away, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck to allow you to continue playing the game.
if he could be with you, even in a video game, he supposed tomodachi life taking away some of your time wasnât so bad.
the day after your first time with katsuki... and he's smug asf at how nervous you are
you can barely look at him without being flooded with memories of last night and getting flustered so you silently distance yourself and offer to go buy something from the store.
asking him to pass you the car keys and all you can do is watch as he just shoves them in his own pocket. when you stare at him all confused he tells you to 'come get them yourself'âŠ
and when you do, you can feel him watching your every move while you fumble with the keys through his jeans because the feeling of his eyes on you and the limited distance between you two has suddenly made your hands stop working.
and he does absolutely nothing to help cause he thinks it's cute
àšà§ â Gojo's hands shake like he's eighteen again, gripping your hips with white knuckled desperation, "Fuck, fuck, fuck-" his vocabulary reduced to caveman like grunts when you're under him like this, years of experience apparently meaning jack shit when your legs wrap around his waist.
He's all stuttering rhythm and graceless hunger, like he forgot how bodies work. One second he's jackhammering into you with supernatural speed, the next he's frozen completely, forehead pressed to your collarbone, panting like he just ran a marathon because your warmth threatens to undo him entirely... "Jesus, youâreâŠ" He breaks off with a choked laugh, hips jerking erratically. "Fuck, been too long since I- shit, do that thing again. With your tongue again, please. Right there."
His demand is adorably needy, punctuated by a sharp, sloppy thrust as you scrape your teeth against the tendon of his neck, just how he likes it~.
Everything about his technique is pure chaos. No finesse, just raw need and that stupid boyish grin even when he's buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick.
When you arch beneath him, a low moan tearing from your throat, your cunt clamps down hard around his cock. Itâs a vice grip, a sudden, violent spasms that rippled through your entire body⊠Satoruâs eyes go wide, pupils blown. And for a moment, he forgets his name, yours, and any word that isnât an expletive as you completely come undone.
Itâs not just a flutter, not just a wetness, but a gush. Hot, sudden. A flood of your release soaking his entire cock, his balls, the thick thatch of white hair at his base. It rushes out of you in thick, uncontrollable waves, splattering onto his sheets beneath your ass with an audible wet splssh. The sound is obscene. Juices slicking his length, dripping down him, making his thrusts messy- obscenely wet.
"Satoru, I swear to God-" you gasp, but the protest is cut off as he angles his hips sharply, burying himself impossibly deeper.
"Yeah, yeah, less talking, more-"
The new angle hits that spongy spot inside you dead on, hard. A choked cry rips from you, followed instantly by another gush, soaking him further, the sheets beneath you now a dark, soaked circle.
But thereâs something beautiful about how he fucks when he's like this- like he's afraid you'll disappear- like if he doesn't fill you up immediately you'll change your mind. Like he wants to leave a piece of himself with you, so you won't forget him.
⥎ utterly whipped gojo with a girl whoâs just using him for dick slowly warming up to him ⥎ 0.5k words
âyouâre really gonna make me leave baby?â heâs frowning. frowning like a child while he stands by your apartment door as youâre actively trying to shove him out. âi brought flowers.â he looks over to them on your table, sitting in a vase he brought with a sappy note attached to it. he looks back at you with puppy eyes to try and convince you further.
âyes, i am.â you just keep on pushing him trying to hurry him out your door but making next to no progress. you know youâll win eventually though. you guess in about 5 minutes youâll compromise and say he can actually kiss you next time if he leaves. âiâm not looking for a relationship right now, gojo. i donât need you all fawny over me. now leave.â
his lips quiver like theyâre about to cry. his hands even grip harder on the change of clothes he brought incase youâd let him sleepover this time and the fabric scrunches beneath his touch.
âso youâre just using me for my body?â he knows damn well you are. for gods sakes you met him at a bar and had told him you just wanted rebound dick from your last breakup. his other hand pushes on the door frame, steadying him and rendering him completely still. you stop pushing at this point. heâll leave eventually.
âyouâre a great person ,â you feel like youâve said this before, and by his hurt face it looks like he has too, unfortunately now seeing it from the other side. âbut i canât deal with all this mopey shit. i have work, billsââ
âi can pay them!â he suggests, perking up like thatâs the only word he heard. âor you could move in with me!â heâs back to that prince charming smile you can just tell he abused back in college.
âthatâs not it, gojoââ
âi love you,â he grabs your wrists, dropping his clothes he was holding, that were by your side and brings them up to his face, forcing you to cup his jaw. you stare up at him. âi can wait, sweetheart! i canâi really can!â heâs like a child trying to convince their mother they wonât act too crazy on sugar.
he stays going off on a tangent now, gripping your wrists even tighter unconsciously.
âi-i can buy you anything. my friends would love youâespecially utahime, you hate me like her i guess. i already give you good dick, i mean you were just moaning not to long agoââ you start to drown him out.
ââjust one date. if you really do hate me you can slap me after it, just let me try. please? donât be so cold hearted, baby.â
âgojo,â he looks disappointed already, like heâs anticipating a terrible answer. âcome here.â you gesture with your hands for him to lean closer. you plop a delicate, just barely there, chaste kiss on his cheek. âgo home.â you deadpan.
and best believe heâs showing up at your door the next evening awaiting another one.
99 problems, but a wet dream ainât one | katsuki b.
summary: katsuki had a wet dream about you â and now he canât get the image out of his hea, no matter how hard he tries. and when you find out? youâre sure as hell not making it easy for him.
warnings: best friend!katsuki, best friend!reader, reader is shameless, reader is down BAD, teasing, flirting, cursing, dirty talk, wet dream, smut, blowjob, gagging, spit, dom!katsuki, bratty!sub!reader, degradation, âthis is a bad ideaâ typa fic, MDNI;
wc: 2,3k
Katsuki Bakugou has a best friend problem.
And it isnât the kind of problem that can be solved by just talking about it, like normal friends do.
No. This is pretty difficult to solve.
Why?
One, because Katsuki doesnât even talk about feelings or problems most of the time. He just bottles them up until something new appears and then forgets about whatever bothered him before.
And two, he definitely wonât talk about how a wet dream with his best friend made him feel.
Yeah. A wet dream.
He hasnât had one of those since he was a fucking teenager, and it makes him feel so stupid. He is a grown man, for Godâs sake. An established pro-hero. A respected one. And more recently?
A fucking loser.
A loser who now struggles to even meet your eyes while youâre having a simple conversation, because every time he does, he remembers how you looked in his dream â naked and sweaty and so fucking eager to suck him off.
And of fucking course his mind wanders furtherâ
Would your mouth feel that good in reality?
Would it turn him on that much to have you on your knees between his legs?
Would your moans really sound that divine while doing your best to bring him towards pleasure?
Willâ
âEarth to Katsukiii,â you suddenly speak, waving a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him jolt slightly, his body shifting backwards on the couch.
âWhat!?â His head snaps towards you instantly, his hand coming up to slap yours away, ignoring the warmth that lingers from the brief contact.
âI have been talking to you,â you frown, scooching closer to him, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. âWhatâs the matter?â
âNothinâ,â he shrugs, but his body tenses the moment your chest brushes against his arm.
âYouâre even pissier than usual,â you remark with a raised brow, studying him carefully. He scoffs.
âYouâre imagining things,â he replies way too fast.
You frown deeper, squinting your eyes as you shift even closer, intentionally closing the space between you. You donât miss the way he immediately leans away.
âWhy do you run from me?â you ask, tilting your head.
âI like my space, weirdo,â he mutters under his breath.
âI like your space too,â you tease, nudging your knee against his.
He instantly moves his knee away.
âShut up and watch this damn movie,â he rolls his eyes, trying to focus anywhere but you.
âKats.â
No answer.
âKatsuki,â you insist again, leaning in and poking his cheek with your finger.
You feel it â the tension.
You notice the way his hands curl, palms balling into fists as he takes a slow, deep breath, clearly trying to keep himself together.
âWhatâs up with you?â you push again, your voice softer this time, but more insistent. You move even closer, until heâs practically cornered at the end of the couch, your body fully pressing into his.
âTell meee,â you drag out, nudging him lightly. âWhatâs bothering you?â
âYouâre bothering me,â he finally snaps, his tone sharp and annoyed, making you blink in surprise. âEven in my fuckinâ dreams,â he adds with a frustrated groan, dragging a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was.
âWhat?â you ask, caught off guard. âYou dreamt about me?â
âAre you deaf?â he rolls his eyes, letting out a short, dry chuckle.
Thenâ
Something shifts.
A slow, almost mischievous grin spreads across your lips.
âWhat kind of dream did you have?â you ask, lowering your voice slightly as you lean closer, your gaze locking onto his.
Before he can react, you move.
In one smooth motion, you swing your leg over him, then the other, settling yourself directly in his lap, your thighs resting on either side of his muscular legs.
His mouth parts slightly, frozen halfway open, one eye twitching as he stares up at you, completely caught off guard.
âCome on,â you push again, shifting slightly on his lap, your clothed core brushing against his crotch through his jeans.
âDid you have a wet dream?â you ask playfully, clearly teasing, not thinking anything of it â but the moment he flinches, looking away instead of snapping back at you, your smile falters just a bit.
âDid you really have a wet dream of me?â you ask again, this time more serious, your eyes searching his face.
âPiss off,â he mutters, avoiding your gaze.
âOh my god⊠I want to know right now,â you nudge him again, more insistent this time.
âI ainât telling you shit, now get off of me,â he says, though his hands find your hips, gripping them instinctively.
You place your hands over his, pressing them down, smirking slightly.
âYou know⊠if you tell me what it was about⊠maybe I can help,â you shrug casually, as if you didnât just drop that.
He stares at you, completely dumbfounded, like you just said the most insane thing heâs ever heard.
âYou gotta be joking,â he says, forcing a smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes.
âWhy would I be? Itâs not like I donât find you hot or anything,â you add, shifting slightly again in his lap.
That stirrs something in him.
He hisses under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening without him even realizing it.
âIâm still not telling you,â he mumbles, jaw clenching.
âOkayâŠâ you hum. âIâll guess.â
You take a moment to think, thenâ
âWas I on all fours? Were you fucking me from the back? I know you like doggy style⊠or maybe something else? Like missionary? Or cowgirl?â you ramble, mostly to yourself, watching his reactions closely. âHow aboutââ
âIt was a goddamn blowjob, now shut up,â he groans, his head falling back against the couch with a dull thud.
âOh,â you pause, blinking. âA blowjob,â you repeat thoughtfully, tilting your head slightly.
âHow was I able to fit all of that in my mouth?â you add, genuinely thinking about it.
He groans louder this time, hands leaving your hops and dragging them down his face.
âYou are killing me, woman,â he mutters, voice strained, making you giggle softly.
âSo you want it?â you ask, watching him closely.
He makes a pause, completely baffled.
Thenâ
âThe hell? Who asks their best friend to suck them off?â he snaps, glaring at you.
âWho dreams of their best friend sucking them off?â you shoot back instantly, raising a brow.
âSmartass,â he scoffs.
âPervert.â
âOh, Iâm the pervert? Not you, whoâs been grinding on me for the past minutes?â he shoots back.
âI only suggested it because you seem stressed lately,â you say, your tone softer now, but still teasing. âAnd you clearly donât wanna talk about feelings. Maybe I can help some⊠other way⊠you know?â
He goes quiet.
Really quiet.
His brows pull together as he stares at you, his expression shifting into something more serious, more conflicted â something you canât quite read.
Youâve never seen that look on him before.
Not like this.
Thereâs hesitation.
Something heavy sits behind his eyes.
âYou better not make me regret this,â he mutters finally, his voice lower now.
Your brows lift slightly, tilting your head. You didnât know what to make of this words.
âWhaâ what?â
His hands tighten on your hips, making you shift against his crotch for the nth time.
âGet on your knees.â
âNow?â You ask baffled.
âYes, now. Iâm in the mood and itâs your fault,â he reminds you.
You bite your lip to repress a smile.
Instead of a snarky comment, you just nod quietly and get off his lap. He spreads his legs wider the moment you move, watching you closely as you lower yourself onto your knees, settling between his muscular thighs.
Your palms come up to touch them, fingers gripping the material of his jeans as you slowly move them up and down, feeling the tension in his body, trying to ease it just a little.
You take your time.
Slowly moving upward, dragging it out, making it feel like it takes forever to reach his crotch⊠then his belt.
You start unbuckling it, your movements slow, all while looking up at him â watching the way he stares down at you, jaw tight, lips pressed together, hands resting stiffly at his sides.
You slide the belt out of the way, then undo his zipper, finally revealing his black boxers. Something hard brushes against your hand and he hisses above you, his breath catching.
Your fingers dip under the material and drag it down, exposing his happy trail that leads down to his cock. His own hands come down to help, pushing his jeans and boxers lower, lifting his hips just enough. The fabric bunches at his thighs, out of the way.
And thenâ
His cock springs free.
Long. Thick. Prominent veins running along the length of it. The tip flushed a reddish color, already leaking with pre-cum.
âCâmon, dig in,â he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips as his hand comes to tangle in your hair, pushing you slightly forward.
You donât rush.
You lean in slowly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling the way he reacts instantly â his breath hitching, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips as you glance up at him through your lashes.
Your tongue slides out, dragging along his length, long, intentional strokes, collecting the pre-cum as you go. His fingers tighten in your hair.
âDonâtâ be such a tease, damn it,â he grits out, voice rougher now, the veins in his neck more visible as he looks down at you.
You let out a quiet chuckle, but you give in.
Enough teasing.
You part your lips and guide him in, taking him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, relaxing your jaw as you go, until the tip presses against the back of your throat.
You pause there for a second, breathing steadily through your nose, adjusting â letting your body relax around him.
Then you start moving.
Slow at first.
Pulling back just enough before taking him in again, setting a rhythm, your tongue flattening along the underside, tracing the veins, working with each movement.
Spit and pre-cum mix together, making everything smoother, your lips sealing tightly around him.
All the while, your eyes stay on him.
Watching everything.
The way his teeth catch his lower lip. The flare of his nostrils. The crease forming between his brows as he tries to hold himself together. Low grunts slip past his lips, restrained, controlled â but you can tell heâs holding back.
That only makes you pick up the pace.
Your head starts bobbing more steadily, your movements more confident, more precise. Tears sting lightly at your eyes from the burn of your throat, but you donât stop â you just adjust your breathing, keeping the rhythm consistent.
You want to hear him.
Really hear him.
âYou happy now?â he asks, breath uneven, voice rough. âHaving a mouth full of me?â
You let out a muffled moan around him in response, the vibration traveling through him as your tongue moves again, your pace never faltering.
âYou greedy brat,â he chuckles, though his voice strains. He knows you â you like this, like putting on a show, like pulling reactions out of him.
His hips twitch upward when you increase your speed, your nails digging slightly into his thighs to steady yourself as his fingers tighten in your hair.
Sweat starts to bead at his forehead, sliding down as strands of blond hair stick to his skin.
âMhmâ keepâ keep going,â he finally groans, his control slipping just a bit more.
You keep the same pace, consistent, precise, working him up without losing rhythm, your tongue and lips working together, spit and pre-cum already dripping down your chin. But is all worth it when you feel itâ
The twitch.
The tension building.
A few more precise movements, a slight change in pressure, and thenâ
He breaks.
âFuck, fuck, gonn aââ
His words are cut off as a low, deep moan escapes him. He releases, his body tensing as he spills hot loads of cum into your mouth. He closes his eyes at the feeling, barely able to keep his lips sealed.
For a moment, he doesnât move, his orgasm washing over him, then â he finally looks at you. You were still on your knees, still sucking and slurping like your life depended on it.
âFuckinâ hellâ youâre takinâ everything,â he lets out a weak, breathy laugh. And it was true, you make sure to not let anything go to waste.
You suck him dry.
And he lets you â for a short while.
Only when the sensitivity kicks in does he tug at your hair, trying to catch his breath and helping you catch yours.
âShitâ too muchââ he groans, needing another second to breathe, to recover as you pull away, licking your lips slowly, cleaning the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand as you look up at him.
Taking him in.
Heâs leaned back against the couch now, hair messy, chest rising and falling steadily, his cock flushed and glistening, resting against his stomach now. His pants and boxers are still pushed down around his thighs as he spreads his legs, taking a lot of space like usual.
But he wasnât the only one looking messy⊠he noticed your state too.
And fuck if it wasnât the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen.
Your hair was deshiveled from his grabbing, your cheeks were flushed, lips plump and glistening with fluids⊠you looked so fucking pretty like this â on your knees for him, having his cum down your throat and looking at him with teary eyes â a sign of how hard you tried to take him.
You remain on the floor even if it wasnât the most comfortable place, still close to him.
âSoâŠâ you finally break the silence softly.
His eyes snap back to yours, still catching his breath.
âWas this better than your dream?â you ask with a raised brow and a teasing grin.
But he wonât give you want to want. He already gave you enough.
He just scoffs at your question, rolling his head slightly to the side, trying to hide his smile.
his cock pistons in and out of you hard, balls slapping your ass over and over again, speed relentless. your legs are pushed up against your body, with satoru's firm hands holding them there.
your face is flushed and sweaty, hair messy and all you can think about is how satoru fucks you. he towers over you, panting and grunting, losing himself in the pleasure.
"f-fuck, i could stay in here forever." he moans, savoring how warm and tight your cunt is, how you clamp around him whenever he speaks. he chuckles, grabbing your chin with his hand, guiding your attention to his face.
"y'know, you look so much better like this, where i can see everything. but, my favorite part would have to be that stupid look on your face."
you whine in response, eyes crinkling with insecurity. satoru chuckles softly before kissing your forehead, leaning in to whisper in your ear.
"i didn't mean it pretty girl, you know i like to be mean. i. just love how much you love my cock."
he pulls back again, grabbing your hands and pulling you closer to him. you gasp as his cock hits at a deeper angle, and his eyes glance to your face.
rated R for mature content, mdni. tw: heâs disgusting.
Thinking about pervy!choso who has the thick, blushing head of his cock smearing all slanted against the spot on the couch in which youâd been sitting in just thirty minutes earlier.
pervy!choso who canât even begin to explain why it drives him so utterly insane to get off on anything youâve made the slightest contact with.
pervy!choso who even collects things you touch sometimes because heâs a freak like that. Water bottles youâve tried to recycle, blankets youâve folded, glass cups your lips have grazed, forks that have felt the slick of your tongue, the shoelaces to those one pair of sneakers you canât seem to find anymore-, yeah⊠you get the idea.
pervy!choso who unintentionally inconveniences you because of this little collecting habit of his. He knows he should stop at some point and get a hold of himself, but howâs he supposed to do that when he watches the way your tongue lathers around spoons to gather the remnants of whatever youâd been eating?
pervy!choso has even crated this only little thing in his head called a indirect-cumshot. Which is, yes, exactly what you think it is. Well, if youâre thinking that itâs like an indirect-kiss but yâknow⊠with cum instead.
Yeah, remember the mug you used to drink your coffee out of earlier this morning? Choso came in that the night before. Itâs been thoroughly washed, of course. But in his headâitâs still an indirect cumshot of sorts.
pervy!choso who naturally has a collection of your clothes hidden in various areas. He sleeps with a pair of your panties right under his pillow for the sole purpose of waking up the next morning, managing to capture your scent into his nose like some kinda mutt, and then jerking off until his wrist cramps up and his dick hurts.
pervy!choso who knows that you know heâs a perv. Heâs not very discreet about it, nor is he quiet whenever heâs busy cumming to anything and everything involving you.
You hear him panting your name out at night sometimes, heard him âaccidentallyâ call some chick he had over by your name while she was riding himâthat poor girlâand even walked on him with his cock in his hand and a series of text threads between you ân him displayed up on his laptop.
Fuckinâ freak.
pervy!choso who awkwardly positions himself on parts of the apartment you share just to properly satisfy himself. What exactly does this entail? Oh, yâknow, him sitting the wrong way on a chair you sat in for twenty minutes, grinding his bare cock against the smooth wood and soon letting his cum paint out across your seat!
pervy!choso who accidentally came mid-conversation with you.
You were yapping about some show he agreed to watch with you and you thought you were going crazy when you noticed how much his hips were moving under the not-so-thick blanket he buried himself beneath, but⊠then he was grunting. And then his face was made up. And his ears had got red. And he could barely make eye contact with you.
Moments later and he excused himself off to the bathroom, tugging his pants down and scoffing at the way his seed has plastered itself all throughout his boxers just from listening to you talk.
pervy!choso who knew he had a real problem after that. It was one thing to jerk off to you rather often, but to not even be able to have a conversation-, no, to not even be able to listen to you was insane!
pervy!choso who comes to vent to you about it one nightâconfessing and apologizing about all his habits with the biggest pout on his face. Telling you how he, âcanât control itâ sometimes, and that he might be âa bitâ infatuated with you.
pervy!choso whoâs heart skips a beat when you reveal youâre no better than he is! You pulled out a dildo of yours that⊠weirdly resembled his cock?
pervy!choso was left to bat his lashes in disbelief. Thereâs no way you, his sweet sweet roommate was just as much of a perv as he wasâif not worse?!
The dildo youâd shown to him not only resembled his cock, but captured the very essence of it down to the slimmest vein trickling down near his balls.
What the fuck.
pervy!choso who starts drooling uncontrollably when you go on to explain to him that youâve been using the pillows he sleeps on to get off for months now. You told him that youâd made sure the pillows and their cases were washed before his head ever hit them again but, fairly enough, he didnât give a shit about that.
Hell, he wishes youâd left the evidence of your acts all over his stuffâjust to he could rub his face into it later and get a proper smell of you while he humped his cock against his sheets.
pervy!choso who realizes heâs drooling from more than one place halfway through your perverted confessions, his body unconsciously inching closer and closer to you until youâre both practically sharing breaths and every word of sin thatâs exiting your lips is being caressed right into his greedy ones.
pervy!choso who, rightfully, cums a good minute ân a half into the first kiss you two share. His hands could barely explore your body without shaking and the sounds that left his throat were just nasty. Someone wouldâve thought the two of you were fucking already!
pervy!choso who gets shy when you push him down and tell him to show you his cockâwhat if you donât like it? What if this is the part where you regain your moral senses and admit that youâre both horrible people whoâve done disgusting things in thought of the other?
pervy!choso who is pleasantly surprised when you get impatient and tug his dick out for yourself, his lashes fluttering whilst his lips quiver open to say something to you. He wanted to warn you about how much he cums, but your hand was already curling around his cream-smothered cock.
pervy!choso who thinks he dies when he first feels your mouth on him, your tongue darting out to taste the mess heâs made of himself, and your eyes almost appreciatively set up on his.
pervy!choso who canât even move because of how good your lips feel wrapped around his cock. He wants to burry his fingers in your hair, push your pretty head down, fuck himself up into your throat, and more but⊠he canât move for some reason.
pervy!choso who chokes when his wide tip knocks into the deepest nook of your mouth, hearing a loud sluuuurp! before heâs gasping and suddenlyâyouâre not in between his legs anymore..?
Oh.
Thatâs right. It was just another one of his daydreams.
None of that actually happened, he never confessed his acts of filth to you and you never said anything about you being just as much of a perv.
No, in reality, heâs been staring at you like a true weirdo for the past few minutesâunintentionally making weird ass noises here ân there because of how wrapped up in his fantasy he was.
Then you make eye contact with him all of a sudden, popping your lips off of a bright red popsicle and tilting your head, âDid you want some?â
âHuh?â He gapes.
You gesture the popsicle his way and smile all innocently, âYouâre drooling and youâve been watching me eat this for like five minutes now.â
âY-Yeah.â
You scoff, âYeah, what? Yeah, you want a taste? Or, yeah, youâre admitting to staring at me?â
âBoth,â Then he leans forward and lightly takes your wrist into his hand, holding eye contact with you as his mouth parts. Tongue rolling out all wet with drool, âFeed it tâme, please?â
He hardly has a moment to react before youâre gliding the popsicle in between his lips, watching how his tongue eagerly laps at every inch of it before he sucks on it firmly.
âŠThen he accidentally moans.
Your brows shoot up and he pulls his mouth off the popsicle. Chuckling at him, âDid you just-â
âSorry, mommy.â
âWhat?â You choke.
âWhat?â
Choso wishes this was a dream too but, based on the way youâre staring at him right nowâŠ
no genuinely this whole seriousness surrounding the hate blog and shit is so funny to me, like genuinely just read ur fanfic for the day and go?đđ
like why are we âcancellingâ writers bro, this genuinely isnât even a career, no oneâs getting paid here, we are all literal adults, WHEN has fanfics EVER been that serious likeđ Im literally js laughing thinking abt it, read ur shit and leave bruh, prime wattpad 2020 was never like this.
yâall beefing w ppl u donât even knowđđ just focus on ur 9-5 and read ur fics bro
LMAOOO, that is ultimately what it boils down to as well! like outside of the true ai use concerns & maybe people turning out to being assholes on the other side of the screen, if you donât like smth just donât read it đ
tht part is rlly killing me tho yeahhh, canceling writers for smth theyâre not even getting paid for is funny đ in the grand scheme of things, this is a niche community after all. someone called me overrated & it made me giggle bc i wasnt aware i was bein rated in the first place
BUT, as i said before, thereâs nothing wrong with highlighting the issues in the community as everyone has an opinion theyâre wholly entitled to!
synopsis: your boyfriend looks so good whenever youâre on top that it makes you shy. when are you ever shy?! you wanna sort this out asap or you ride bakugou trying to figure out which position feels best
whatâs coming up: 18+, a whole load of smut this is lowkey pwp. p in v, riding, multiple positions, making out, head (f receiving), established relationship, overstimulation (m)
notes: antm title. listen i canât explain what happened to me. needs another proofread i think.
you mention this one night wrapped in katsukiâs arms about to go to sleep. youâre doing the compulsory three minute spoon until you both pull away and get comfortable at your respective sides of his bed.
this time itâs you spooning him, your leg over his hip, your arm around his waist. you rub your lips over his shoulder and sniff his hair.
âi really want to get better at being on top.â you mumble into his skin, eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness around you.
katsuki shifts his head on the silk pillowcase. you told him to change fabrics to protect his hair (you really meant yours) and he listened, new ivory cases the next time you saw him.
âhah?â itâs a quiet one, not like his usual booming loud ones that hit the back of your eardrum.
âi never feel like i know what iâm doing when iâm on top and i get so shy. i am literally never shy! ever. then you just end up doing the work.â you whine, âi want to be able to be on top and do it well. make us both feel good.â
katsuki breathes in through his nose and out his mouth. youâre having a conversation with him. about sex yes, but this isnât you offering to have sex now. despite this, the blood rushes to his cock by simply imagining you riding him to oblivion. your head thrown back as your hips grind down on him.
it is true. heâs never seen you shy in any other part of your life or relationship. usually during sex, youâre confident and excited. hell, youâre okay with walking around his apartment naked. but for some reason, you sitting on his cock, legs straddling his waist makes you shy in a way bakugou doesnât understand.
after making out youâd mumble to him that you want to be on top but as soon as he slides inside of you, katsuki will just look at you and your whole body flushes with heat. it has you mumbling under your breath, trying to look away from him but then his hands are on your thighs and heâs softly cooing at you. compliments about how you feel around him and how pretty you look on top.Â
which leads to you either leaning forward to cover his eyes with your hand, covering his whole face with your hand so he canât talk either or just whining that you canât do it and he needs to take over.
he shuffles around so heâs facing you, your minty breath on his face. he gives you three soft pecks, catching your lips with every brush.
âhm no, donât give a fuck about me in this. if you feel good, i feel good.â he whispers and it makes you tighten your leg around his waist, your crotch against his lower stomach.Â
heâs noticed how shy you get on top. the frustration. if heâs honest he thinks itâs adorable. at the beginning of your relationship it was him stuttering like an idiot, overthinking everything he did and assuming every text from you was going to be âitâs not you, itâs me.â which would mostly mean it was him all along.
bakugou is also an idiot for how you beg for him to take over, crawling into his mouth for a kiss. covering his eyes so he canât see how your breasts bounce and how insanely sweet you look slotted over him. you, all of you, shaking and trembling as he thrusts up. but although heâs into this rare shy version of you, if you want to work on not being so like that, heâll be there.
his ruby eyes are so caring, a little frown on his face like heâs urging you to understand.Â
âi do want to make you feel good though,â you rub your palm against his bare chest, feeling every breath he takes. âbe in control over the pace.â
âyâcan look at me and i feel good. tomorrow weâll try. see what position has you cominâ over my cock.â
you smile, âiâll put it in my diary.â
he gives you a kiss, rubbing his nose against yours after, âwhy dâyou feel shy for? âs just me.â
that has you slamming your own eyes shut in refusal. laying on your back to sigh into the ceiling.
âbecause of you. youâre allâŠ,â you wave your hands in the darkness for a terrible explanation. âand the pressure. youâre usually in control.â
thatâs true, he is unless youâre giving him head. âiâm what?â
you open your eyes and stare at him. âyou make me all shy. staring at me like that while youâre literally inside me and youâre all⊠big and sexy and iâm so exposed and now i need to make you come while you look like that.â
bakugou grins like you just proposed. the sight of him below you, usually with an aroused dopey smirk, always saying whatâs on his mind. the sweat across his forehead or the worst, when he lays on his forearm behind his head without a care in the world. like itâs an everyday occurrence that women sit on his dick and youâre next. it turns you on more than you can admit, it makes you feel like a shy virgin being naked in front of a boy for the first time.
along with the thick cock pressing against your warmest points, itâs too overwhelming for you.
âbig and sexy?â
you roll your eyes, âthatâs all you heard?â
âyâknow i love when youâre on top. happy to do whatever you want,â he chuckles boyishly and the big arm that haunts you, wraps around your waist to drag you into his body. âlike i wasnât shittinâ myself when we fucked for the first time. lookinâ up at me like your life depended on a hard fuck.â
you guys dated for two months before you got intimate. to say you were going crazy for a single touch from this man, would be an understatement.
âno i wasnât! but you look cocky and mean in a sexy way,â you gasp looking at him, âyou look like dynamight. tv dynamight.â
tv dynamight is an alternate version of dynamight and your usual boyfriend bakugou katsuki. tv dynamight is the one you see snappily answering after fight interviews or smirking when the crowd cheers for him or rolling his eyes when heâs on a talk show and he gets a stupid question. you never get this version of him, heâs so much softer and love struck with you. doesnât mean you donât love watching it.
bakugou frowns, âi just look at you and say you look good. that sounds like a bad thing.â
âdid you miss me saying you look sexy? so sexy it gets me feeling like an idiot.â you cross your arms under the covers. âi just want to be good at it. able to make you come like that.â
as much as he loves you still feeling nervous around him, he wants to get to the bottom of this.
âweâre sortinâ this tomorrow.â
having planned sex is a whole different game than simply assuming youâll have sex tonight or having it spontaneously. it includes you turning up at bakugouâs apartment, more excited than usual, flinging your overnight bag on the ground and your arms around his neck.Â
âi watched a few videos and read articles on how to be comfortable and i did a few stretches at home,â you say, kissing him hello and katsuki has to blink into realisation.
your conversation before bed. heâs been thinking about having you tonight all day that part of him believed it was all his imagination. he kisses you back, then your cheek.
âyâlook pretty,â youâre in a matching comfy pink gym set. he doesnât know the last time you went to the gym but you always ask him to buy you these expensive ass sets. âand wait, you stretched to prepare?â
he chuckles bubbly, grabbing your bag off the floor. you pout immediately, âdonât laugh at me. iâm trying here! all you have to do is lay back.â
âiâm not laughinâ at you, baby. i love you,â he grins, âiâd never laugh.â
but youâre clenching your teeth, looking away at the dinner heâs started preparing for you both. ah, this evening heâs got his sensitive girlfriend. perhaps this was a bigger deal than you originally made it out to be.Â
âmaybe i shouldnâtâ,â
âno, we are. it was just fuckinâ adorable, i should have had a wank before you came so i donât bust as soon as youâre naked.â
he walks into his bedroom to plop your bag on the floor and you follow behind.
âyou do that?â
âi used to when we started datinâ. meant iâd last longer. the fact we planned this i should have done my prep.â
his last syllable is cut off when you lay your lips over his, tugging the end of his white tee so he pulls it off.
âdonât expect this to be good, iâm just trying and testing tonight, okay?â you mumble and just as quick as usual, katsuki hardens in his basketball shorts.
the idea of being your test dummy, your experiment while you ride him, sounds like a fantasy to him. itâs true that youâd ask to be on top usually and then upon not being able to find your groove, you give up. then katsuki will grab your ass cheeks and slide you up and down like you weigh a feather.
âsounds sexy, baby,â he groans, nibbling down your neck and in turn, being rewarded with sweet gasps from you. âget naked for me.â
bakugou lays back in the centre of his bed butt naked and hard as a rock while you sit on your knees beside him, also butt naked.Â
âsit on my face,â he orders.
âno! treat this seriously.â
âiâm so fuckinâ serious, câmon. you say you need to get comfortable, youâre always comfortable on my face. maybe i needa make you come first.â
he doesnât know what the hell heâs saying, he just knows you're wet right now and he wants a taste.
it does sway you a little. thinking about the videos youâve seen and articles youâve read. educational ones! some being porn also. stretching your hips is necessary and itâs not that youâre uncomfortable around your boyfriend, just being on top, shyness takes over.
his hand drifts up your thighs, then your soft stomach before squeezing your breast. you see katsuki twitch out the corner of your eye. your mouth waters at the sight of him. always so pretty, thick and long, dead weight on his stomach. only from some kissing and being naked together.
âwe could sixty nine?â
he grabs your hips, dragging you closer and manoeuvring you so youâre sitting on his upper chest. he can smell you from here, heâs sure pre is leaking from him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
âweâre focusinâ on you.â
âsays the one begging to eat me out.â
katsukiâs smiles always drive you crazy, mostly because theyâre always dedicated to you. the world gets his smirks and as sexy as they are, itâs never a genuinely excited smile. especially over the prospect of having you on his face.
his gold tooth catches the warm lamp light and he reaches to kiss your thigh, âyouâre so close now. can smell ya.â
before you can let the intimacy overwhelm you, you sit up on your knees and carefully slot your pussy over your lover's face.
katsuki only needed one session with you to be good at eating you out. an annoying thing about him is how heâs simply good at everything, whilst you, after months of dating, still need to work on things. you think about the sex positive podcasts youâve listened to recently and itâs true, not everything is going to work out of the box. youâre two completely different people coming together. in both ways.Â
but katsuki, he always knew exactly what to do to get you trembling. itâs firstly his enthusiasm. probably the biggest turn on. how he clutches your thighs like someoneâs about to take you away. the meat of your legs will definitely have an imprint after this. how he closes his eyes and moans into you. rocks your hips into his face as his tongue laps up everything you are.Â
like a man starved, his death row meal and heâs asked for you on a platter. he sucks on your clit and opens his eyes to see you lean over to grab the headboard. watching your tits and how they shake at every movement he makes. katsuki loves to talk but because his mouth is preoccupied, you just get vibrations through you along with the accompanying moans and groans he canât help.Â
âfuck, yâtaste⊠so fuckinââ,â is all he can manage, sticking his tongue down your centre and licking as much as he can.Â
ââtsuki, so good,â you cry, you meet his eyes and your whole body heats up to boiling temperature. his ruby pupils are narrowed, as if heâs testing you to come now, on his face.
you grind your hips on him, following wherever feels good. he slaps your ass and you mewl. âiâm gonna, baby, i need to come.â
since he canât speak even if he wanted to, you do as you please, coming all over katsukiâs face. your body trembles as he swipes up every drop that comes out of you, keeping you still so you donât fall off. you clench your eyes shut, wailing loud enough that in any other part of the city, youâd have angry neighbours.
you flop onto the bed beside katsuki, as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. youâre quick to give him a cuddle, basking in the come down of your orgasm.
âgood, baby?â he asks, rubbing your back slowly.
you nod against him, stuffing your face in his armpit as you catch your breath.Â
âhow are you so good at that?â
bakugou laughs, chest swelling with pride, ââm just passionate.â
after counting to three in your head you get up slowly, biting down on your lip.Â
âyou wanna take another second?â
âno! and i think you were right. the orgasm helped.â
you swing your leg over bakugouâs thighs to straddle him. carefully you take hold of his cock, flicking your wrist up and down him.Â
katsuki reaches his arm behind his head to lay on his forearm. everything about the man is sex. the massive biceps, his flushed face. how he kneads your thigh to check youâre still there with his eyes shut.
âjust like that, babygirl,â he grunts, âbeen thinking about this since you mentioned it. horny all goddamn day.â
you smile at him, âthinking of me in your meetings?â
you squeeze the base of his cock, your other hand coming in to rub his balls in your palm. his hips jolt into your hands, chasing every movement.
âi always fuckinâ am. b-but you on top, ridinâ the shit outta me.â
you moan without meaning to, âi want to do that for you.â
bakugouâs eyes slid open, âtoday is about you. findinâ out how you like it.â he pulls your hands off him and you pout. âsit on me and start movinâ.â
âyes, sir,â you say playfully but it only makes bakugou exhale shakily, blinking away any newfound arousal.
he holds your hips, as you angle his cock into you. youâre already soaked from what he did to you, so he slides in like a dream, bottoming out completely.
âoh fuck,â you curse, planting your hands flat on his chest. staying still feels good, you feel him everywhere, prodding your softest parts, your walls sucking him in like he belongs there. but you know it could feel better, you just need to work out how.
âi wanna fuck into you. didnât realise how hard this shit would be for me,â he groans, adjusting the pillow behind his head.Â
you blink away the horny fog the best you can. heâs still got your shine on his chin and heâs staring at you like heâs a second away from taking over. swinging you so you lay flat so he can take control. you feel his gaze on every part of your body, the focus on your soft stomach then where you meet between your legs. what gets you most is how he focuses on your face as if heâs recording every expression and exhale. the clear proof of him being so into you, the smirk rising onto his cheeks at the position youâve got him in.
the fact heâs so into you, whilst looking like an adonis statue in an art gallery, makes you so shy.
 âs-so last time i just grinded on you but i didn't feel anything? i watched a few videos on how to bounce on you without aching.â you try to look away from him, but it just has you staring at his chest. littered with these gorgeous scars. his golden body that can protect you and the country. you have to close your eyes.
âyouâre watchinâ porn without me?â
you and bakugou have never watched porn together with the aim to come. sometimes youâd send him a video of something you wanna try but thatâs all.Â
âfor research! and some girls on tiktok helped.â
âokay, babygirl. do your thing, pretend iâm not here lookinâ big and sexy.â
âshut up,â you mumble, firstly planting your feet into the mattress by his hips and keeping your hands flat on bakugouâs chest to begin bouncing on his cock.
itâs a position youâve never tried, one that always embarrassed you to imagine getting into and moving like so. youâre grateful for your stretch beforehand because bakugou glides in and out like butter. itâs more intense than just sitting on him, your body is squashed and he knows heâs gonna be using this image to get himself off till the end of time.
âoh, ohâŠ,â you whine, tits smushed, stomach clenched to focus on what feels best. âi like this. feels good, baby.â
bakugou clenches his teeth. he can see you suck him up with every bounce, your thighs wet, so is his length. he could come like this alone if you moan any louder.
âyou comfortable?â he asks, âyou look insane, babygirl. canât believe this⊠i could come.â
âdonât!â you squeal, whines flowing out of you without meaning to, âmy knees are hurting.â
âi can help,â bakugou thrusts his hips up into you and heâs about to thrust you down into him, like what he usually does once you give up.
âno, no, let me try something else.â
without pulling off him completely, you press your knees into the bed and lean all your weight onto your left side. you begin to bounce again, up and down, up and down.
you fling your head back, mostly from the burn switching from your knees to your thighs.Â
bakugouâs obsessed with whatever position you get yourself in, âdoinâ so good, princess.â
that has you looking at him, leaning forward for a kiss. he meets it without thought, biting down on your bottom lip when you pull away.
âi am?âÂ
he nods rapidly, swearing under his breath. heâs got a layer of sweat on his forehead even though heâs barely done anything. forcing himself to not move is more exerting than just moving.Â
âyeah, baby. feels like torture though, not gonna lie to you.â he squeezes the fat of your hips, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds.Â
you switch your weight onto your right knee, sighing in delight, wetness leaking from you. your bodies are getting louder now, the slap of your skin against his. graphic with the white ring forming around bakugouâs cock.Â
ânow you know how i feel when you wonât let me come,â you whisper and heâs about to lean in to bite your lip as a punishment but you rotate around so your back is facing him.
youâve never tried reverse cowgirl before but you can already predict how katsuki will feel about it. bakugouâs least favourite position. you know this because he always goes on about how he loves to see your face. your sweet loverboy. but equally one of his favourites because itâs a front row view of your rippling ass every time you slap down on him. itâs enough to make him come, a few bounces and heâs done. itâs also a good break to not have to think about him staring at you. the number one tip for other shy girls on that blog site you read.
you forward, grabbing his knees and for a second you can barely move.
âprincess?â bakugou asks, caressing your ass slowly. âyou okay?â
âi can feel you in my stomach,â his cockhead nudges against your insides, somehow further than youâve ever felt before. why the hell havenât you tried this before?
bakugou sits up on his forearm, sneaking his hand to your stomach, âdoes it hurt? you wanna pull off?â
you shake your head, then you remember he canât see you well. you moan, grinding back into him. you canât be quiet, can barely make out a coherent word either. youâre between crying and moaning, soft breaths of ââtsuki,â and another wail.
âso good, fuck, iâm gonna die,â you gasp and the warmth in your stomach bundles together and tightens. you ignore the burn in your knees, focusing on the obscene amount of pleasure that bursts under your skin. you reach between your legs to play with your clit, slow circular rubs to make everything last as long as possible.
katsuki gets where you are now. the idea of you using him like a toy is what had him boiling all day. youâre moving on your own accord, focusing on yourself and what feels good. he begins to help, meeting your thrusts just so you scream louder.
âcmon, baby,â he says behind gritted teeth, âlet me hear ya, louder for me.â
bakugouâs strict with his thrusts, obsessed with how your body shakes when it comes into contact with his. how his thighs are equally soaked and the fact that youâre both leaking onto his bedsheets. he keeps moving and before he knows it, only hearing your whines, he comes inside you.
jolting harshly, a hand on your hip bone to keep you close while he comes. it has you looking back at him with a frown.
âs-sorry, i couldnât fuckinââ,â heâs gasping for air, back arched off the bed. he holds you down and youâre grinning like youâve won a prize. âfuck, holy shit.â
âyou came.âÂ
delight blossoms inside of you, your body burning for your own release. katsuki looks exhausted. red cheeks, sweat coating his forehead. he genuinely looks pissed that he came. you look at the mess between your legs, so much come.
he grunts in annoyance, âi didnât mean to iâ,â
but heâs cut off as you face him again, ignoring all the liquids spilling out. you plant your feet by his head and lean back, your hands on his knees.
âtouch my clit for me,â you ask politely and bakugou does what heâs told, mentally preparing himself for the overstimulation about to come.
you begin bouncing again, using your hands to guide your body up and down, rolling your hips to grind to hit a specific spot. all the shyness you ever felt before has evaporated, simply following your body to catch whatever feels good.Â
bakugou on the other hand, feels as if heâs about to pass out. if itâs the squelch in the air, the sight of your pussy drenched and his cock soaked. your pubic hair has strings of his come and his lower stomach has a shine to it. his cock is still hard, aching, twitching in painful flicks of pleasure. but thereâs no way he could say no, not with you looking practically angelic.
youâre in your own world with your little mumbles, your whines that sound troubled but are anything but. heâs not sure how he can have you in any other position but on top after this. you ride him like you own him, like heâs yours to play with and use to relax. your breasts are soft, nipples perked to the ceiling and as he rolls his thumb against your clit, he knows youâre ready to come any second now.
âoh my god, katsuki.â you make those odd grunting sounds that make bakugou leak, âfaster, w-why havenât we done this before?â
you say in a rush and bakugou obeys, speeding up his rubs on your clit.Â
âthis is all weâre gonna do now, huh?â
you hum, pace slowing as the burn of your knees radiates.
âlettinâ you ride my cock while i come early like a fuckinâ teenager,â he moans, frowning harshly because heâs too sensitive now, way too sensitive.Â
bakugou takes matters into his own hands, especially once you whine for him, âhelp me, âtsuki.â
you lift your head up to lock eyes with him. youâre fucking crying. tears down your cheeks, âi love you so much.â
he thrusts into you, meaning you no longer need to strain your body anymore. he moves you for your own pleasure, sliding you up and down, mimicking how you were moving and heâs ready to come again.
ânah, you love my cock. tell me you do.â
it takes only a second for you to reply, stretching your arms straight, your back arched so bakugou can see all the beautiful curves of your breasts and waist. he bites back his bearish groans, this is way too much for him right now. he thinks hes about to come again.
âl-love your cock so much. feels like heaven, like iâm gonna split open,â you babble, âlove it so much, âtsuki.â
âmy good fuckinâ girl, usinâ me like this. love you so much, princess,â he hums and before you can even catch yourself, after all the noise tonight, your orgasm is a silent one.
these strained gasps come from your throat as you lean forward, your whole body tensing. you donât mean to dig your nails into his chest, but bakugou welcomes the pain especially when he orgasms again, loud enough for you both.
he growls into the air as you hold yourself up over him, open mouthed, tears falling from your eyes.
you can barely contain yourself, your body still bouncing as he continues thrusting his hips. everything is lewd, the stained bedsheets and the trail of sweat down your breasts. the sound of your ass hitting his balls only draws out your orgasm, your bodies soaked with each other.
âoh my god, oh my god,â you whisper. you stare at your boyfriend in shock as he slows down and wraps his arms around your body to drag you to his chest. âweâve never⊠itâs never felt like that before.â
you can feel him pulsating inside of you and your walls are hot around him.
you both breathe, catching your breaths, plastered to each other.
âyouâve got me fucked,â his chuckle is dry, but you shuffle to get comfortable and bakugou yelps. âdonât fuckinâ move. please.â
you smile, pressing kisses into his chest until you realise what youâve done. âiâm so sorry, i didnât mean toâŠâ
you trail off, lightly brushing your thumb over the red scratches over katsukiâs chest. bakugouâs half lidded eyes catch yours, grabs your hand to kiss the centre of your palm.
âit felt good, princess. needed any distraction to ignore your warm pussy.â he pouts his lips and you happily meet his, âyou confident beinâ on top now?â
bakugou twitches inside of you, âyeah. i know what to do now.â
âyou lookedâŠ,â and he doesnât know how to describe you. but youâre patiently waiting for an answer. if anyone likes to be complimented more than him, itâs you, âlike a goddamn angel. thought you were gonna kill me.â
âiâd never,â your eyes droop, ready for an evening nap. âyou need to pull out now.â
bakugou sighs, âthis is gonna be a mess to clean up and my dick aches.â
âiâm sore too!â
bakugou rolls his eyes but he knows heâs going to be kissing your knees and thighs any minute now.
âstill want me to cook dinner or order in?â he asks, pushing you on your back to slowly slide out of you.
you whine softly as he does, not used to the feeling of not being full. you almost want to sit back on him, clamp your legs around him and never let him go.
âfuck,â bakugou grunts, then he sees your pout. âafter dinner.â
your eyes light up, âreally?â
âyouâre goddamn insatiable.â
âitâs just thereâs one more position, well two, i want to try with you sitting up and me laying down.âÂ
he climbs off the bed to grab a clean flannel from his en-suite. âyou wanna break me, huh?â he calls.
you giggle, âno, i just wanna know how itâll feel and the website i found has loads of positions we havenât tried.â
you have the audacity to look innocent while he wipes your legs with the damp flannel. then your lower stomach and very lightly between your legs.
âyou should have told me earlier i would have booked tomorrow off work.â he kisses your knee, âwe can do whatever you want. until you get all achy.â
thereâs no doubt heâd be able to get hard again for you, especially looking this eager about trying a new way to have sex with him.
you nod softly, running your hand down his face, âcan you still cook? i want your udon noodles.â
if it was up to bakugou heâd order in. heâs way too tired to cook for you right now and still have energy to have sex again after. he had a whole patrol and training earlier today too.
but one thing bakugou has always struggled with since he met you, is the ability to say no. especially not when you sit up and grab the flannel from him to slowly swipe across his stomach and then his softened cock.
satoru keeping you quiet with his blindfold while suguru's asleep in the same room . . . [18+]
âmmmmââ
you mewl against satoruâs hand, his cock brushing against your walls so deliciously, you canât stop the little whimpers from leaving your mouth. and the fact that gojoâs roommate, suguru, is asleep in the same room doesnât matter to you. at least not right now.
âshhh, baby..." he coos quietly, rocking his hips up against you. his thrusts deep but steady, trying to stay as quiet as possible, not letting the bed creak even a little.
âcanât," your words stay muffled against his skin, your eyes falling on suguruâs bed. itâs too dark to see him completely, but youâre able to make out his posture. heâs on his back, face turned towards ceiling, eyes fluttered shut, breath steady.
is he really asleep?
a harsh snap of satoruâs hips pulls you away from your thoughts and you bite back a moan, just barely. âyou're too deepââ
you couldnât help the whines that escaped your mouth as gojo continued to pound into you from behind, his cock rubbing against your spongy g-spot with every thrust.
âahh⊠toruâŠâ you cried out, pussy already clenching around his thick girth.
âbaby, come on,â satoru muttered through shaky breaths. âiâm gonna have to pull out if you canât stay quiet.â
his words sent a flash of panic through your body.
"i try to be," you pouted against his hand. âbut it feels so goodâŠâ
"i know it does," he slows down his movements, thinking for a moment.
his hand leaves your lips and flies to his face, he quickly takes off his blindfold, balling it up.
âopen up.â
you do as you're told, mouth opening immediately. before you can even register whatâs happening the dark material is being stuffed inside your mouth.
he starts thrusting up again, your velvety walls begin to clamp around him even harder than before. âthatâs it. so good for me.â he whispers breathily into your ear.
the quiet but obscene sounds of his dick pumping into your wet cunt filled the room along with your whines muffled by his blindfold.
you bite hard into the fabric as you come all over his cock. your release leaves a creamy ring around his cock as he keeps pumping into you.
satoru moans against your ear when he feels the way youâre gushing and clenching around him. his orgasm builds up too. thick, warm ropes of his seed fill up your pussy, making you whimper and tighten even more.
âdonât squeeze so hard,â he groaned, barely keeping it together.
before you can answer, both of you freeze when suguru groans and rolls overâwith both of you facing his back. you two watch him, expecting to be caught in this compromising act, but all you were met with, was silence.
a few seconds passes by.
satoru chuckles quietly, pulling out his softening cock out of your pussy. âheâs a heavy sleeper.â
your mouth still full, but you manage a slight smile, trying to play it cool. but you canât deny, that some fucked up part of you wanted to be caught by your boyfriend's best friend.