Gojo fucks his crush (who has a crush on his best friend)
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut with no plot, fem!reader, p in v, coming on face, reader has/had a crush on Geto, Geto is kind of a jerk, fourth year setting (all characters are aged up to +18), pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart)
a/n: first time writing smut, so please bear with me!
art by @/thatsallchief (i love their art so much)
suguru's pov!
Gojo Satoru knew that his crush liked his best friend.
The way your eyes wandered around the room, and instead of landing on him, it always settled on the black-haired boy that was sitting next to him.
And he always watched your heart get broken when your ears perked up at the sound of Suguruâs voice, low, leisure, and level as though it was a daily occurrence to be talking in the classroom about how he booked a hotel with a university girl, studying nursing or some other shit, to spend the night with.Â
Shoko would stick her tongue out, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she stared at her phone, while Gojo would laugh for a moment, making fun of Suguru playfully as always before turning to look at you, eyes concerned.
And his darling crush, gentle and kind even when your heart is shattered into pieces, would always smile awkwardly, uncomfortable as your murmured a faint complaint about appropriate behaviour at school grounds, or sometimes nothing at all when Suguruâs description became too detailed, too promiscuous.
The worst part was⊠Suguru knew.
Suguru knew that your rosy cheeks were meant for him, that her gentle voice was only directed at him.
He even casually complained how to indirectly let your down, not wanting to confront the awkwardness since he still thought of you as a precious, fellow classmateâthe one that would always give him a piece of candy to get rid of the horrid taste of the curses he swallow.
Suguru was appreciative of your kindness, but not enough to reject you directly with kind words.
That was why it always made Satoru grit his teeth in fury at his best friend, whom he still deeply cared for, but also from annoyance at the way you always let him run over you, still naively trying to cling to the hope that somehow Suguru would like you back.
Satoru knew that you werenât just a crushâhe adored you, loved you, that it sometimes hurt to look at you from the way you made his heart race.
For the way you would hide your eyes away when they welled with tears whenever Suguru breaks your heart, not wanting to disturb the moment with your friends. The way you would smile gently at Satoru when your eyes meet. The way you would giggle slightly when Gojo pokes your cheek teasingly. The way you would prettily part your lips for a bite for a piece of strawberry Pocky that would make him swallow as something else flash behind his eyes, imagining how they would feel wrapped around his tipâ
âSaâŠtoru,â you slurred, eyes hazy and sparkling with tearsânot from your heart getting broken, but rather from how fucking deep his cock was inside you, kissing your cervix affectionately with every thrust. It brought an undeniably deep satisfaction at the sight. âI-Itâs too muchâŠâ
Satoru instantly moaned at your whine, ducking in to let you burrow your face into the crook of his neck, as he pressed his nose against your head, smelling your shampoo and the faint smell of sweat that formed on your skin from how long he's been fucking you. His large hand wrapped around your head tightly, the other on your hip, keeping you there as he kept snapping his hips to search for your hot, sopping, messy cunt.
This was real.
This was fucking real. Shit, shit, shitâ
âFuck, princess⊠stop clenching so tight. Feels tooââhe gasped, eyes turning wide as you tightened around him impossibly more that made him roll his eyes backââgoodâŠâ
This was the thirdâno, maybe fourthâtime he brought you to his dorm room to fuck you mindlessly to drive Suguru out of your pretty mind. This was the third time inviting you to his bed, next to Suguruâs dorm, to comfort you as he went off to another hotel with no doubt another slightly older woman in his arms.
The other one time was when you invited him over to your dorm, and the memory of your bashfully lowered eyes and soft voice as you tenderly led him to your room was enough to prompt him another pathetic whine as he thrusted so roughly into you that made you see stars.
So yes, this was the fourth time that you were in his arms to have his cock deeply nestled inside, wrapped by your heavenly walls, and the third time he was able to make his girl come tonight. He silently thinks in his pussy-drunk mind, that no matter how many times the two of you fuckâmake loveâhe would forever be questioning whether this was real, if you were real because no way does he have his dream girl in his arms right now, letting him fuck you to an oblivion.
And some sick part of him liked to imagine that you were still in love with Suguru. The thrill of knowing that he was fucking you, making you feel so good that you couldnât help but think of him as you stared at his blue eyes instead of a pair of purple ones. But by the looks of the way your brain was fucked dumb, your lips only dribbling his name repeatedly, was an enough of an indicator that you werenât thinking of Suguru anymore.
âSatoruuuu!!!â you screamed as you came undone, muffled against his neck. That effectively brought him back from his pussy-drunk reverie as he grinned down at you.
âSorry, babyâŠâ
He pulled out with a gasp, pulling off the condom with a snap as he stroked around his cock. You were about to whine when another moan slipped out of you when his thick, long fingers curled inside of you, his thumb rubbing quick, tight circles around your clit to prolong your pleasure.
âIâm going to c-come.â He swallowed. âCan I come on your face? Please, baby? Youâll look so fucking pretty with my cum.â
You nodded eagerly, managing a faint reassuring smile that twisted at his heart painfully with affection as he cupped your face and kissed you senseless, thumb caressing your cheek as the other hand continued to stroke his cock to prompt his impending release. His lips gently suckled on your tongue while giggling deliriously with pathetic whines, prompting you to clench tightly around his fingers.
âSatoru!â
And that was itâthick, white spurts of cum splattered across your face, making you gasp at the sticky sensation on your skin. Satoru grinned at the sight, cooing softly yet his fingers harshly fucked you dumb, the quelching sounds incredibly filthy that almost made his cock hard instantly.
As you came your nth time of the night and breathed heavily from your climax, your eyes widened at the sight of him ripping another condom, and rolled it on his pretty cock.
Satoru chuckled at your surprised face, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips before pulling back, grinning at you fervently.
âDonât think weâre over just yet, sweetheart.â
The next morning, when you came out wearing Satoruâs overly large t-shirt with heated cheeks and a horrifying amount of hickies across your neck and collarbone, and a Satoru that had his lips curled into a dopey grin at your side, with a nervous Suguru that was rubbing his neck awkwardly by his door⊠you only could hide behind Satoru, hands gripping the back of his shirt, and a cheek pressed against his broad back, as the white-haired boy laughed full of satisfaction and fucked up elation.
âUm⊠fun night?â Suguru asked, his smile uncharacteristically awkward as he looked at Satoru and glanced at you curiously.
âYeah, too much fun,â Satoru said with a grin, laughing when you scrunched his shirt up more, nails digging into his back like last night to shut him upâfuck, he was going to get hard from just that. âHow was your night, Suguru?â
Maybe it was cruel to ask that when he didnât really know if you still liked Suguru or not, but his cocky ass just couldnât help but ask, knowing that he fucked your mind out last night, and he that he can and would continue to do it for the rest of his life, because that means that you would only think about him at that precious moment.
âUhâŠÂ yeahâŠÂ I guess,â Suguru murmured as an answer, his eyes still glued to you. Since when did you look so cute? Suguru could acknowledge that he was acting like an asshole right now, knowing that he was starting to have interest in you after Satoru has swept you off of your feet and dicked you down a little too good.
Satoruâs eyes narrowed as he stepped a little to the side to hide you completely, holding the door. âAnyways, weâre going to have amazing morning sex from now, so go fuck yourself.â
Satoru grinned when he heard you let out a loud gasp at his words as he slammed the door right in front of Suguruâs face, before spinning around to face you.
Cradling your face in his large hands, he kissed you senseless as he pushed you towards the bed, tongue lolling out with yours as he lapped at yours like a pathetic mutt. His cock twitched at the sound of your surprised giggles, and he couldn't help but let out an unabashed moan.
content: nanami discovers you, his beautiful wife is infatuated with his best friend hiromi. driven by jealousy, nanami decides to do the most bizarre thing he could think ofâa proposal.
pairings: husband!nanami Ă fem!reader Ă best friend!hiromi
note: the equivalent to breaking up with your partner and ovulating + horny gets us 5 PURE smut fics..this is not proofread, it was 3am when this was written and nghh I love the thought of sub hiromi..
w.c. 1.8k
đ· @yorikae
Nanami sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. The chat history with your closest friend was still open. Months of messages confessing how badly you wanted his best friend, Hiromi Higurumaâhow you wondered what his long fingers would feel like, how his voice would sound moaning your name, how you touched yourself thinking about him.
Naturally, seeing your wife having these lustful thoughts about your best friend would surely fill you with rage right?
No. Instead of rage, Nanami felt a dark, possessive heat settled in his chest. Without much thought in mind, Nanami texted Hiromi using his phone to come over for drinks.
When Hiromi arrived, loosening his tie after a long day, Nanami poured two glasses of whiskey and got straight to it.
"I found something on my wife's phone today," Nanami said calmly, sliding the phone across the table.
Hiromi read a few lines. His face went pale, then flushed deep red. "Kento...I swear I never knewâ"
"I know. But is the feeling one sided Hiromi?" Nanami interrupted, voice steady. "Don't insult me by lying."
Hiromi swallowed hard, setting his glass down on the table. "She's your wife and I respect you too much to ever act on it but...I've tried to ignore it for months. Every time she smiles at me, I can't help myself."
Nanami took a slow sip of his drink, staring at Hiromi as he admits in shame. "So, you're saying you get hard thinking about her?"
A long silence stretched. Hiromi ran a hand through his hair, visibly conflicted. "Yes," he finally admitted, voice rough. "I do. I hate myself for it. If you want to end our friendship I understand."
Hiromi's eyes found Nanami's, looking up at him nervously. He and Nanami had been friends for years, truth to be told, Hiromi hated the thought of losing his friendship with Nanami but if that's what he wantedâhe had no say in the matter.
Nanami leaned forward. "Mmm..no. I have another thought in mind for you and her."
"What?"
"I'll share her with you. One night. You get to fuck my wife, just like you've had in those perverted fantasies of yours." Nanami's voice stayed calm, but his knuckles were white around the glass, telling a complete different story.
"Right now, she's upstairs, blindfolded expecting some silly surpide from me. If she says no, it won't happen. But I know my wife and she'll say yes."
Hiromi looked stunned, breathing uneven. Well what the fuck? "Is this a joke..? Aren't you angry?"
"No. But I'm jealous as hell," Nanami admitted.
"But I also love her and seeing her happy. And you're my best friend are you not? I love you and love seeing you happy too," he trails off, watching Hiromi's face heat up at his words. "If I'm being honest...the thought of you two fucking makes me hard too. Are you in, or are you going to keep jerking off to the fantasy of my wife for the rest of your life?"
Hiromi stared at him for a long moment, warring with himself. Finally, he exhaled shakily. "O-okay."
.
.
.
You were blindfolded and laying on the bed in nothing but a silk robe when the men entered the room. Your heart was racing with excitement, thinking it was just Nanami planning something special. Afterall, he left you like this for a few minutes.
"Baby..? Finally where were you..?"
"Take the blindfold off, sweetheart," Nanami said softly, ignoring your question.
You did as asked, eyes widening as you saw who stood behind him. The sight of Hiromi standing there made your stomach flip. Your face burned with embarrassment and shock.
"H-Hiromi...? Ken what...what is this?" your voice trembled as you pulled the robe tighter around yourself instinctively, thighs pressing together.
Nanami sat on the edge of the bed and cupped your cheek. "I saw your messages. I know how badly wanted him, he does too." his thumb brushed your lip gently. Your heart stopped at his words. He knew? Well fuck. He didn't seem mad however..?
"Tonight, you can have us both. If you want of course, it's all your choice sweetheart."
You looked between themâyour husband and his flustered, hungry best friend. Your pussy was already aching at the thought of having both the men you craved so much. The previous guilt inside of you slowly disappear.
"Okay," you whispered, cheeks flushed red already. "I do want it..I want both of you."
Nanami's eyes darkened with satisfaction. "Good girl.
Nanami glanced at Hiromi, a grin finding his face. "Watch."
He stood and unzipped his slacks, pulling out his thick, heavy cock. "On your knees, sweetheart. Show Hiromi how well you suck your husband's cock."
You slid off the bed eagerly, dropping to your knees. You looked up at Nanami with pure lust, then glanced shyly at Hiromi before wrapping your lips around your husband's cock. You took him deep immediately, moaning around his thickness as you bobbed your head.
It wasn't the first time you've given your husband a blowjob, if anything you only knew how to take him so well thanks to his teaching.
"Fuck, look at her.." Hiromi breathed, palming himself.
Your husband groaned, hand resting on your head. "That's it baby nice and sloppy. Show him what a greedy little slut you are for me."
You did just as he asked. Drooling, gagging yourself on his cock, sucking hard while stroking the base. You made obscene wet sounds, eyes watering as you deepthroated him. Nanami's control started to slip, his hips rocked forward, fucking your throat as he gripped your hair.
"So desperate for cock aren't you?"
You whimpered around him in confirmation, sucking harder. The humiliation and thrill made your thighs clench, feeling so turned on.
Nanami's grip tightened. "I'm closeâfuck, swallow every drop like the good wife you are."
And you did, with a groan, Nanami came hard down your throat.
You swallowed eagerly, milking him with your mouth until he was spent, then licked him clean with a satisfied smile. Nanami pulled out, breathing hard as he looked down at you. His beautiful mess.
"Your turn, Hiromi. Make her feel good." Hiromi approached you as lay back on the bed, nervous but aching. "W-where do you want me..?" he asked you, his voice nervous. His eyes trails down, looking at your body with desire.
"Here Hiro....please fuck me." you parted your thighs for him, fingers trailing down to spread yourself for him. Giving him a perfect view of how wet you were. He groaned and climbed between your legs. He rubbed his long, curved cock against your dripping folds, teasing your clit before slowly pushing in.
"Oh my.." you moaned as he stretched you open. "You're so deep.."
Hiromi sank in inch by inch until he was fully buried, eyes fluttering. He was way longer than Nanamiâthat was for sure.
But your husband without a doubt won with how big he was. "Shit..you feel even better than any fantasy. So tight and wet for me." He started slow and deep, grinding into you with long, deliberate strokes. His nose brushed your neck as he kissed and bit along your collarbone.
The pace gradually builtâdeeper, harder and needier. "So fucking perfect," he panted, gripping your thighs and spreading you wider. "I've wanted this pussy for months. Every time I saw you I got hard thinking about bending you over."
You were desperate, hips rolling up to meet every thrust. "HarderâHiro please.." He snapped his hips faster, fucking you with rough, hungry strokes. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room.
He reached down to rub your clit while pounding into you, drawing it out, making you feel every inch. Nanami watched as his best friend fucked his wife, stroking himself slowly, jaw tight with jealousy and arousal. "I'm gonna cum Hiro..!"
"Cum on his cock, sweetheart" Nanami ordered.
You shattered hard, crying out as your pussy clenched around Hiromi. He whimpered but kept thrusting through it.
"Can IâKento..can I cum inside her?" Hiromi asked, voice strained and desperate.
Nanami'a eyes flashed. "Yeah. Breed her needy little cunt."
The confirmation was all Hiromi needed. He buried himself deep and came with a broken moan, pumping thick ropes of cum into your pussy. He stayed inside you for a moment, panting.
After Hiromi pulled out, Nanami laid you on your back and kissed you gently before breaking the kiss and turning to Hiromi.
He grabbed Hiromi by the back of the neck and pulled him inâslamming his lips against the man before him. The kiss was rough and possessive on Nanami's end.
Hiromi melted instantly. A soft, surprised whimper escaped him as he submitted, lips parting eagerly. His body leaned into Nanami's, almost pliant, hands gripping Nanami's shirt like he needed support.
Nanami dominated the kiss completelyâtongue sliding deep, claiming his best friend's mouth while Hiromi's eyes fluttered shut in submission.
You watched, soaked and throbbing, as Hiromi completely gave inâsubmissive and needy under your husband's control.
They finally broke apart. Hiromi was flushed, lips swollen, breathing shakily and looking dazed. Nanami on the other hand looked satisfied.
"I should have done that long ago." He murmured before turning back to you. "Ready for both of us baby?"
They positioned you to fit their liking and Nanami slid into your pussy from behind while Hiromi pushed into you from the front. The stretch was overwhelmingâyou cried out, shaking as both thick cocks filled you completelyâstaying still to give you a moment to adjust.
"Mnghh...so fullâhah.." you whined, eyes rolling back in pleasure.
They wait a second longer before starting to moveâalternating thrusts at first, then finding a rhythm together. Their cocks rubbed against each other inside you with every stroke. It was obscene, overwhelming and perfect.
You didn't last long, the dual simulation was too much, the next thrust to your cervix had you screaming, pussy spasming violently around both cocks as you cum again.
Nanami groaned, feeling the way you clenched so tightly around them, along with the feeling of his best friend's cock rubbing against him he doesn't last. His hips stuttered, flooding your cunt with his cum.
Nanami grabbed Hiromi's hair, tugging his face closer to his and kissing once more.
Hiromi loses it right after, moaning into Nanami's mouth as he pumped you full. Their cocks twitched and rubbed together inside your cum filled cunt as they emptied themselves.
They stayed buried and your eyes fluttered exhaustion slowly taking over you. Nanami kissed your sweaty forehead tenderly. "You were perfect, my love."
Hiromi pressed soft kisses to your neck, still catching his breath. "So perfect.."
You could only smile at their words.
Nanami's eyes went to his best friend, a nasty gleam in his eyes. "My wife's all spent..how about I fuck you next hmm?"
Hiromi's eyes widened, his face turning beet read as he started at Nanami. "W-what the hell? No?!"
"Mm...you're saying no yet I feel you twitching alive again Hiro.."
summary: zuko agrees to an arranged marriage with the princess of the earth kingdom but their alliance comes with terms. the most tasking one: producing an heir within a year. the only problem is zuko isn't over his ex, and you hate his guts.
pairing: firelord!zuko x earthbender!reader
wc: 6.2k
angst but major fluff to make up for it, panic attack, hallucinations, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of death, abusive fathers, mention of suicide, series is not completely accurate to canon lore
queen charlotte au!! read part one , part two , part three
đâ đâ â Ëâ àŠâ Ëâ â đâ đ
firelady (name),
i trust the first weeks of your marriage have been favorable as you adjust to life in the fire nation. your brothers miss you very much, as do i. i wish i had the time to say more, but i needed this letter to reach you urgently.
your father, the king, will be visiting you soon. by the time you receive this, he would have left a day ago. i wish i could be there, but i was not allowed.
i am proud of the woman you have become.
your guardian,
ailin
you had crumbled the letter, seething with rage because it came too fucking late and your father stood in front of you in the palace's front courtyard.
he looked the same. tall, arrogant and every bit your twin which only served to further annoy you. he was dressed in his usual earth kingdom green and yellow, glasses low on his face, stupid fucking crown snug on his head. guards behind him stiff and on guard.
zuko stood beside you with a practiced calm to him, but you knew him enough to know he was just as annoyed as you were. the way his hands were folded in front of him, the too straight stance and the slight tick in his jaw.
he still hadn't forgotten the night your father squeezed your arm a little too tight and he still wanted to ring his neck. but he wasn't just your husband. he had to behave as the diplomatic firelord, but if your father tried any shit this time, zuko wasn't above reminding him that he wasn't always a reasonable person.
"king tian, it's a pleasure to see you again. though i am confused, we hadn't received word you would be visiting."
your father didn't even look at you when he spoke and maybe that was for the best, because unlike zuko, you weren't as good at hiding the emotion in your face. an unwavering glare etched in your features.
"we're family now, no need to be so formal!" he laughed, but it was false and made you feel uneasy. it was the laugh you feared as a child, the one that said he was fucking pissed and someone would answer for wronging him.
"besides, i figured I would check on my only daughter in person and see how marriage is treating her." yet he still refused to look at you.
that was bullshit, of course. you knew king tian cared for no one outside of himself and that he was here for something, or else he would have sent for you instead of coming himself.
there was nothing left to do but invite him in. it would be a nightmare if rumors spread that the earth king was denied entry into his own daughter's home. now you stood in one of the sitting rooms, feeling awkward as fuck as the last time you were alone with your father was when you were merely a princess and him, a king.
now you were firelady, a queen in your own right and you didn't know what to do now that you were on equal levels.
he walked to the window and stared at the public palace gardens as if in deep thought. he was quiet, so you stayed quiet. giving him the responsibility of starting the conversation he came here to have.
you fought the urge to bite your nails out of pure anxiety, reminding yourself that he was no longer your superior. wishing zuko didn't have important business to discuss with his council.
trying your best not to touch your belly.
"i'm only going to ask this once, firelady. is firelord zuko ill? do not lie to me."
your heart dropped. there was no way he could have known. zuko had never slipped far enough away from reality in public to raise concerns. from the outside looking in, the firelord was healthy and happily married, bringing about change to the nation.
you were going to lie, of course. zuko wasn't ill just because he was losing his sight in one eye. what the fuck was he going to do anyways? you weren't a little girl anymore.
"the firelord is well, though your concern is appreciated father. might I ask what brought this on?" you shift your balance from one foot to the other, stomach twisting in anticipation.
he was quiet again, save for a deep sigh that reeked of annoyance and disappointment. when he turned to face you, your fingers twitched at your side, ready to defend yourself if you needed to.
"why do you lie to me, child?" gone was the use of your title, his attempt at putting you in your place. in your own damned home.
"i do not lie. should i get my husband so you can ask him yourself? i'm not sure what brought this on but-"
"i heard rumors that his majesty brought his own healer to republic city. a waterbender from the northern tribe, can you believe it? i didn't think much of it at first but then a little bird told me something interesting. do you want to know what that is, (name)?"
you stayed quiet, pulse thumping hard against your neck. he continued anyways.
"i was told that at the celebration for that fraud of a city, the firelord looked distant all night and had a tremor in his hands. usually one could just blame it on nerves, but it wasn't that, was it? i seen it myself in the courtyard. he's good at hiding it but not well enough to fool me."
tears started to form in your eyes but you blinked them away. this isn't how today was supposed to go. you planned to tell zuko about the baby after dinner and then maybe have mind blowing sex, not whatever the hell this was.
you straighten and square your shoulders. "what do you want?"
"i'm simply visiting my daughter, is that so wrong? for a father to check on his child?"
you waited for him to continue, one eyebrow raised because now he wasn't being truthful. you wanted to bury him. instead, you turned to leave, bored of this game and fighting a wave of nausea that had been creeping up on you.
"oh! i'll also be staying for a few nights. what kind of father in law would i be if i didn't take matters of my son in law's health seriously? if you're being truthful then you have nothing to worry about. if not.. we'll be having a much harder conversation."
àŠ
"he knows." you told zuko later that night as you paced back and forth in your room after you both shared a bath, mind racing with unease. what would happen if the public found out? would they still accept zuko as their firelord or would others rise up to challenge him for the throne?
what would they do to you when they found you're carrying the heir of this nation? probably kill you to stop any future contesters to the throne.
zuko froze on the bed, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he thought of what to say. he looks as shocked as you felt when you spoke to your father.
"what makes you think that?"
"i don't think that. he told me while you were in a council meeting, said someone saw you in republic city and told him. he's not here for pleasantries, he came to watch you zuko."
"fuck.." zuko whispered, hands turned over on his lap as he stared at them, watching how his fingers slightly shook. this is exactly what he was worried about. people would find out one day if the treatments stopped working, but he hadn't expected your father to be the one to discover his secret first.
he didn't know the man that well, but ozai had warned him that the earth king was not to be underestimated. he was nearly as conniving as koh the face stealer, and would do anything to ensure he stays in power.
not that ozai was any better, mind you. so for a young boy to hear that from his father, it made him unable to trust you in return. which is another reason why he shut you out when you were just children.
"i'm sorry." he whispered, running both hands down his face in hopes of hiding the way his cheeks were heating in response to the spike of fear he just felt.
tian is weaker than you. kill him before he kills you, fool. ozai's voice rang against his skull, agitating zuko even further.
you finally stopped pacing, face falling when you looked to your husband. his shoulders were slumped, eyes a little dark from the increase in treatments and lack of sleep.
you felt your soul cracking as you sat next to him on the bed. when he looked to you, you noticed a single tear fall from his right eye, breaking you further. this man..
"hey." you smile and place your hand on his cheek, shivering when he turns slightly to kiss your inner wrist, golden eyes locked on yours. "what are you apologizing for?"
he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath before looking at you again. "this is embarrassing, love. you deserve a husband that's whole, not.. not whatever my father has made me."
and you became overwhelmed with the urge to harm anyone that has ever wronged zuko. anyone that had a hand in making this perfect man feel so incredibly insecure.
"i deserve you, zuko. i want only you, you got that?" your heart skips a beat at the way he's holding your gaze. "i'm right where I want to be and we will handle my father and anyone else that thinks to question your rule. i won't leave your side, i vowed it remember?"
of course he did. you looked so nervous that day, so sheltered and so fucking beautiful in your green wedding dress. your lips set in a small pout when you thought no one noticed,
but zuko did. he always noticed you, how could he not? from the moment he kissed you after slipping that ringer on your finger, he knew he was fucked.
"i love you." he said it before he could convince himself not to. taking your hand from his face and placing it over his heart, your eyes wide as your breath picked up. zuko took the opportunity to move to his knees in front you, a sight his advisors would have a stroke over.
the firelord on his knees for a woman? it was blasphemy, it broke every tradition he'd ever been taught. zuko didn't care, staring up at you like the devout husband he would always be. utterly yours.
"i have never loved anyone the way that i love you. i would commit the most unforgivable of crimes to keep you safe and by my side. there is no me with you, love. ever since that day-"
he chokes up and you take the opportunity to reach your hand toward a loose strand of hair, pushing it from his face and tucking it behind his ear. it was your turn for your hand to shake. skin covered in goosebumps as his words knocked the wind from you.
"zuko.." you whispered, ready to stay those three words back. for him to know that this feeling was far from unrequited.
"just.. let me finish. i need you to understand how much you mean to me."
and you let him. staying quiet until he found the strength to finally speak again, his eyes never wavering as they held you hostage. he had only ever stared this long when you weren't looking, so afraid of showing how much of his heart you owned. afraid you'd realize that he was a fuck up and force an annulment.
you never did, not even after discovering his secret. he never needed to hear the word, your actions alone proved to him everyday that you felt just as he did. that he wasn't a fool and his father's lingering voice had been wrong.
"lay back. please"
and you did. your heart pounding aggressively, mind in a tizzy as zuko kissed his way up your body. starting at your feet, moving to your legs, inner thighs, skipping your aching cunt, and stopping at your lower belly where he nuzzled his nose against your gown. placing delicate kisses against your stomach like he knew his child was in there. fatherly instincts kicking in before he even realized.
you were flushed and moved to sit up before his hand gently pushed you back down,
"zuko, i have to tell you-"
"i know, love."
what?! you tried to sit up again but he pushed you back down, a child like giggle leaving his mouth. he placed a final kiss to your belly and continued moving up your body, skipping your breasts and placing a soft kiss to the pulse on your neck, your nose, eyebrows, beautiful eyes, soft cheeks..
he was going to burst with the amount of pure, raw love he had for you. hovering above you, his back to the world as he locked himself in the bubble that contained only him and you.
"you know? i don't understand." you whisper, eyes burning from incoming tears. he couldn't have known. you didn't tell him and made the physicians swear on their honor that they wouldn't say a word.
he smiled at you, soft and true. the back of his hand grazing your face as he lost himself in your eyes. you spread your legs, letting his body settle between them.
"you forget that i know you, (name). you've yet to bleed as long as you've been here. you're tired even after sleeping in, eating the oddest foods, and you throw up almost daily. i'm a man love, not an idiot. though... i guess the two aren't that far off." he laughed at his own joke, forcing a light smile from you.
"i realized some time after we returned from republic city. was just giving you the opportunity to tell me yourself."
you couldn't stop the tears then. bottom lip poking out and all, you let the worry you'd been holding in your body disappear. zuko meant it when he said he notices you. in ways no had ever before. not even your guardian. especially not your father.
zuko's heart and eyes were for you only and you didn't know what to do with that amount of love, so you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him.
his laugh of surprise was muffled against your mouth before he relaxed against you, sticking his tongue out for access. which you readily gave, his moving in sync with yours. not a fight of dominance but a dance of passion and truths finally spoken out loud.
he pulled back, leaning his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath.
"i love you too zuko, more than anything in this world." you whispered and zuko was only a man, so you couldn't blame him that the words went from settling in his heart and straight to his dick.
but as much as he wanted to fuck you into a stupor, tonight was for something else. he was going to worship the body that was now creating life. his child. the thought that you now held half of him inside of you making his head spin with a possessiveness he never felt before.
"gonna show you how much you mean to me, love. need you to feel it."
and he did. from the way he took his time removing your nightgown, hands caressing every inch of your body. to the moment he was finally pushing his cock inside of you, slow and composed, watching as your face twisted in pleasure.
he didn't move for a minute, just stared at you until you lifted your hips in an attempt to get him to move. he rested his forehead against yours, "eyes on me, love. remember?" and when he finally moved, you were dazed, legs weak and twitching against the strong arms that held them.
zuko made love to you just like that. his cock moving painfully slow, eyes never leaving yours until you clenched around him, orgasm washing over you in soft waves. and when zuko finally came with a small grunt, hot cum painting your squishy walls as he pushed every drop into you, his mind wandered.
he mostly thought about the fact that you were now carrying his child. a small piece of him and you, his hopes and dreams manifested. and that he would burn the world to keep you both safe.
àŠ
you spent the next day avoiding your father, only seeing him at the small banquet zuko held, a dinner to strengthen relations with the clans of the fire nation and keep them loyal. things had been going well. you were laughing at a joke zuko told to one of the leaders when you looked to the door of the great hall, where your father stood.
just watching, like a fucking creep. it sent chills up your spine but you decided to ignore him and his look of fury. zuko hadn't noticed and you weren't about to make him aware either. this night was important to him.
"yuki, you must tell me again about that time my uncle got so drunk that he challenged a statue to agni kai and apologized when he lost."
the large man laughed excessively. going on to explain that he was just a boy when it happened but..
you frown at zuko's tight grip on your hand under the table. his stare was becoming distant again, though he hadn't received any treatment today. your body instantly filled with panic, especially when you noticed your father was still standing there. eyes now narrowing, locked on your husband.
zuko wasn't at the banquet. instead, he was deep in a memory of one of the only times he talked to you as a child.
"why do you always have that look on your face? do i look funny or something?" you glared back at the brooding prince beside you. he was petting the ducks in the courtyard before you showed up, interrupting his peace. azula and her friends had just been there, teasing him for acting girly because he liked to give the animals attention.
they were stupid. all girls were, even the pretty ones like you.
"no, i just want to be alone." he grumbled, even more annoyed now that the baby ducks were waddling back to the pond to their mother.
"oh. well, i don't want to be here either so you don't have to be rude to me. father says we should try being friends." zuko was baffled by your straightforwardness. you were always quiet when your father was around. he wondered if yours treated you the same way his did.
"no. i don't want to be friends with a girl." he huffed, turning his back to you so he didn't have to see your face. you were very pretty and he didn't like that his face warmed when he saw you. he also didn't want you to notice that it upset him when you said you didn't want to be there. even though zuko knew he'd done nothing to make you want to be around him.
"fine! but one day i'll be your wife and you'll have to be nice to me because we'll have children together. idiot." he listened as you stood and kicked some rocks before stomping off.
zuko blinked the memory away, looking down at you placing his hand against your dressed belly. he felt ashamed for the way he treated you when you were children. that was the last time he saw you before he was burned and banished.
now here you were. his wife and carrying his child, even more beautiful than you were that day. he didn't have much time to ponder on this though, as yuki was finishing his tale of young iroh. but he subtly rubbed your belly hidden by the table, giving you a grateful smile that you retuned. relief flooded him that it seemed no one had noticed his mind disappeared.
when he finally talked to enough of the clan leaders, he stood after taking a small sip of wine. his arm stretched toward you, head titled with a grin on his face.
"wife. care to share a dance with me?" your smile was big and bright as you remembered the first time he'd ever asked you to dance with him. it was at your wedding, but back then you'd wanted nothing more than to run away. to climb over the wall that surrounded the palace and take up a new life somewhere no one could find you.
you eagerly took his hand and he was quick to pull you into his arms. you spent the rest of the banquet that way: glued to each other as if the world might end if you separated.
àŠ
the morning your father was due to leave, you found yourself checking on your hybrid flowers. a mixture of fire and day lilies. a gift you had been working on for zuko. it took you a while to return here, anxiety still flaring up with memories you'd rather forget.
but your relationship with zuko had changed drastically since that day, and because you'd rather be anywhere than around your father, you declined showing up for his departure. feigning sickness.
the flowers were stunning. they had bloomed into a shade of blood red at the center, fading to orange and white with petals that were shaped like flames. thin stalks stuck out on each side, green and orange and every bit ethereal.
the flower was strong, just like your marriage was and you couldn't help but feel grateful that your father had sold you off to the fire nation.
back in the front courtyard, zuko was seeing your father off. the king looked like he could care less when he told him that you were feeling ill and couldn't make it. it took an incredible amount of strength for zuko to not scream at him for being a terrible father. the only difference between him and ozai was that he hadn't physically scarred you.
zuko sighed in relief when the man finally turned to leave before he turned back as if he had forgotten something, looking the firelord up and down as if he were judging him. deciding if he were good enough for you, as if you weren't already his wife in every way possible. tough shit.
"they call it fire madness and it's rare. if i had known you had it, i wouldn't have married my daughter off to you."
zuko paused. what the fuck was he talking about? he had never heard of "fire madness" but was sure this had to do with him knowing something was off with zuko.
"you look surprised, son in law. a well kept secret i suppose, though i feel it is not my place to tell you. that would be for your father to explain, as his father suffered from it as well. we all know what happened to azulon's wife."
"what are you talking about tian? speak plainly, my head hurts and i have duties to attend to." zuko feigned annoyance when he actually felt terrified. what did the earth king know about his grandfather that zuko didn't?
he felt the blood drain from his face, suddenly cold despite his ability to warm himself, as your father stared menacingly at him. "as i said, it is for your father to explain. i was merely here to observe, as i'm sure my dear daughter has already told you."
he moved closer to zuko, a little shorter so the firelord still stood above him. though he felt like a child again, ignorant and unaware of the secrets that haunted his family.
"i will tell you this: i may be old and weaker than i once was but if you lose yourself around (name), and you harm her, I won't hesitate to create a sinkhole big enough to swallow your entire kingdom. take care, firelord, and do tell my daughter her absent was noticed."
zuko couldn't even process the threat before the earth king was riding away. he didn't stop as he turned and stormed into the palace, ordering an airship be readied before he found you in the gardens.
he watched from afar as you lifted a flower to your nose and inhaled with a smile on your face. his hand twitched as his vision slowly blurred in his left eye.
shame ate away at him. zuko knew he would never intentionally harm you, but hadn't he grabbed you a little too tight when he found himself trapped in a memory? what if he went too far and did worse than that?
how was he going to protect you and the baby in this state? he was seeing things, mind disappearing without his permission and losing his vision at the same time. if anyone had answers, it would be his father.
zuko didn't falter as he backed away so you wouldn't see him, heart set on visiting sakari then his father. unsure if he should be relieved that tian thinks he's losing his mind instead of his vision.
a few hours later, he stood in front of the cell that hosted his father, guards sent to wait outside. ozai was much older than he had once been, grey hair taking over the black zuko shared with him. he was still menacing, broad shoulders and soulless eyes.
still a piece of shit.
it made zuko sick seeing his father in his red prison garments, a sly smirk on his face as he watched him through the bars. the very fact that his abuser lived while his uncle, the only man that had ever been a father to him, was dead, made him rage inside.
he wanted to set fire to the man, watch him turn to ash just as his uncle did. instead he swallowed the unwanted rage, masking any emotions lest ozai try to manipulate them to his favor. as he often did on the rare event that zuko visited.
you are a better man than he is. do not lose yourself son. this time it was his uncle he heard. but he wasn't there and he reminded himself of that fact as he stepped forward, not allowing his mind to deter him.
"firelord zuko, congratulations on your marriage to the earth kingdom whore. i suppose you have me to thank for that. have you come for advice on how to bed a woman properly?"
in a flash, zuko had his hand through the bar and wrapped around ozai's neck as he yanked his body forward, muscles flexing under his robe as he squeezed. he allowed his hand to heat up, hot enough to remind the former firelord that he was in fact still powerless, but not enough to scar him.Â
"if you ever speak of my wife again, in any kind of manner, i will have your tongue ripped from your head. do you understand?"
ozai only smiled, pride written across his aging face before he nodded once. zuko dropped him to floor, wiping his hand on his robes as if touching him was a sin and he'd gotten his hands dirty.Â
"now tell me of this fire madness."
the smile was wiped from ozai's face, eyes wide as he slowly stood to stare at his son. his jaw was clenched, fist balled tight before he composed himself.Â
"where did you hear that from? it is not a thing, a rumor meant to make fire benders look bad." his voice was roughened by time, but still clear.Â
"you're a lying bastard. tell me the truth of grandfather and his wife. what actually happened and what does it have to do with fire madness?" zuko was losing the little patience he had, wishing he were in bed with you right now. sealing yourselves behind your walls and losing himself in you.
ozai's sinister smile returned. "surely you didn't come here thinking i would freely give up information out of the goodness of my heart."
zuko huffed, standing just a little taller as he pointed to his left eye. "we both know you lack a heart, the only thing you've ever cared about is power and your image. what do you want?"
ozai glared at his son, moving closer to the bars. "and will you honor what i ask of you?"
"yes." zuko grumbled. obviously he wouldn't be doing that, he wasn't born yesterday. but he also wasn't above occasionally lying to get what he wanted.
"it begins slowly," ozai started, turning his back to zuko as his chains rattled with every move. "sleeplessness, irrational rage, the visions.. yes, my father had it, as did his grandfather. he would speak to people who weren't there, make claims that he could see the dead, and often he'd be silent. staring into the distance as if he were lost to his own mind. disgracing me whenever he got the chance. then he killed my mother during an episode."
"i had no choice but to kill him myself, though no one knew that until now."
zuko felt his stomach twist. no matter how much good he did, ending the one hundred years war, working with the avatar to build republic city, bringing true reform to the fire nation.. he would always lose in the end.
he was doomed from the day he was born.
"no one has survived it, that is all i know. as for my favor, i only ask one thing. kill yourself before it gets worse and you ruin my image. i see the look in your eyes, you can't hide from me. you look just as my father did and i will not be known for siring a mad firelord."
but zuko wasn't paying attention to him. too lost in the thought of ending up like his grandfather, of killing you while his mind was in a memory. he was going to be a father. what if his grandchild inherits this curse? he would have let his line die if he'd known of this.
when he turned to leave, the last thing he heard was "i did care for you, once. when i believed you would be anything more than a disappointment."
àŠ
by the time zuko returned home, you were fast asleep. it wasn't late but growing a child was exhausting and often made you more drowsy than usual.
he ordered a bath in his own room that night, sinking into the hot water as he contemplated everything his father told him. there was no cure, ozai had killed his own father after he'd kill his wife. was that to be zuko's fate as well?
no, he wouldn't let it get to that point. he would put himself out his misery before he harmed a hair on yours or his child's head.
that night, he slept in his bed. and the day after that too, trying his best to avoid you. until one afternoon, you found him hiding under his bed. he had been suffering from memories all day and his eye was beginning to blur again but he was too far gone to take care of it.
you were a beautiful storm of rage, barging into his room and demanding he explain his lack of presence. "I know you're in here zuko, yuri told me she saw you. where are you?"
you waited a minute, wondering if your lady in waiting had been wrong and you were talking to an empty room. then you heard it, the smallest sniffle coming from his bed.
his empty bed.
"i'm sorry." his voice followed.
you frowned, moving closer as you unclenched your fists as the sound of despair in his voice, heart squeezing. "zuko? where are you?" you moved around his bed, confusion written all over you before you looked down.
was he.. under the bed? you took in a deep breath before leaning over, lifting the skirt of the bed and looking under. and there he was. your husband, firelord of an entire nation, hiding underneath his bed.
you got on your knees to get a better look at him. he looked disheveled, hair a mess, wearing a light robe and pants without a shirt, under his eyes dark from a clear lack of sleep. face stained with dried tears.
"zuko? what are you doing under here, love? please come out."
"i can't. you should leave.. please."
fat chance in hell your were doing that. annoyed with his stubbornness and still wanting to help, you slid under the bed next to him. frowning when he flinched as your shoulder bumped into his. he moved away, creating space between the two of you.
"zuko, what happened? have i done something wrong?" insecurity bit at you. you don't remember anything happening, perhaps he was upset that you left him to deal with your father alone.
"i am hiding. my memories can't reach me here."
memories? you hadn't a clue what he was talking about, but you grabbed his hand anyway, squeezing when he tried to pull away. "tell me what's been bothering you, yeah? you can be truthful with me zuko, i'm on your side."
he sighed, his hand shaking with a strong force. you didn't let go, only held him tighter. heart in knots at his state, wishing you do more to help him.
"you shouldn't be here."
you laughed because what else were you supposed to do? he sounded ridiculous. "you're my husband, where else would i be?"
he looked at you for a moment, breaths uneven until they calmed down, turning softer before he stared back up at the bed. he was quiet again, like he was gathering up the courage to tell you something.
"sometimes.. i-i see things that are not happening." zuko planned to keep this from you when he thought the voices and hallucinations were merely a side affect of the treatment he got for his eye. until his father told him of fire madness and he knew you had the right to know, carrying his child who could potentially pass it onto their own.
"what do you mean?" you voice wasn't judgmental despite your concern, wanting only to understand so you could find a way to help him.
"i visited my father today."
you swallowed hard. sometimes you forgot that ozai was still alive, rotting in a cell in capital city prison. waiting out his day when he deserved death.
"tell me."
zuko closed his eyes, his left one twitching as his vision continued to blur. it seemed so small compared to the fate that awaited him.
"he told me of my grandfather, firelord azulon. how he killed my grandmother while he was lost to his mind. slowly being consumed by what they call fire madness. my family's greatest secret really."
he gave a dry chuckle, but you stayed quiet. afraid of what he was hinting at, but already knowing in your heart what he was going to say next.
"turns out it skips a generation, so my father never had to worry about it. never told me either, keeping me in the dark like he has my entire fucking life."
you were still silent so he continued, fighting away the voices that had been screaming at him all day. "i thought it was because of my treatments. the faces I'd been seeing, memories my brain brought me back to, and the voices. they've gotten so much louder, love. can't even hear myself think sometimes."
you went still, hand loosening it's grip on his. you weren't mad at him, so far from that. you hated that he continued hiding himself from you, even after you'd both said those three words to each other. you bit your lip before sliding closer to him.
he was rigid, but let your shoulder touch his. "i am not whole, and i am sorry. if you wish to leave i would understand and I wouldn't stop you."
"why would i do that? you are my husband and I said my vows." you were scared. fucking terrified and doing your best to hide it but zuko was stuck with you wether he liked it or not.
"what if i forget who i am one day? I can't ask you to-"
"then I will remind you, and if you forget me then i will help you find me again. even if we have to hide under this bed for that to happen. I won't leave you zuko."
it took him a minute to finally squeeze your hand back but that was okay. you already had yours and zuko's schedules cleared for the rest of the day, so you were willing to stay hidden for as long as it took for him to feel safe again.
you would hide from his mind together.
"you and me, husband."
"you and me, wife."
đâ đâ â Ëâ àŠâ Ëâ â đâ đ
note: one more part and this story will be complete! lemme know what you guys think :')
summary: zuko agrees to an arranged marriage with the princess of the earth kingdom but their alliance comes with terms. the most tasking one: producing an heir within a year. the only problem is zuko isn't over his ex, and you hate his guts.
pairing: firelord!zuko x earthbender!reader
wc: 6.5k
angst, zuko's kind of a dick sorry, abusive father, unprotected sex, creampie, forced marriage, series is not completely accurate to canon lore
queen charlotte au!!
đâ đâ â Ëâ àŠâ Ëâ â đâ đ
your clammy hands shook as you raised the inked brush to sign your name on your death certificate.
not death in the literal sense, but death in the sense of signing your life away. death in the context of marriage. a union you did not ask for, one you did not want.
only three months ago you were planning to finally break free of ba sing se and it's stuffy walls that locked you away from the rest of the world. you barely had friends, the only people willing to talk to you being the servants and your assigned guardian. as the eldest daughter and first born child of the king of the earth kingdom, most would believe you lived life in luxury and prosperity.
most people did not know that you were born to be a weapon. a tool specifically bred to gain an alliance with the fire nation and therefore, you spent most of your life hidden.
you had no real friends, didn't even know your own mother, had no social life outside of occasional appearances to keep gossip of the missing princess at minimum, and the once a year visit to the fire nation where you'd meet with firelord ozai and prince zuko to ensure the status of the forced betrothal and to bond with your future husband.
you were officially engaged at only ten years old, zuko being eleven. the visits moved to twice a year and during that time, you would be forced to spend time with the brooding prince. you had tried to, at minimum, be his friend but he was miserable and insisted he hated girls.
then ozai became firelord and the visits continued, becoming more frequent now that his father wasn't around to protest the idea of conquering ba sing se through marriage. after his rise in power, the plan was for you two to officially get married when you came of age at seventeen.
after zuko was scarred and banished at thirteen, the engagement was forgotten, though it was never actually called off. the attacks from the fire nation accelerated now that ozai wouldn't use his son to infiltrate the kingdom. this of course, was your fault in the eyes of your father. '
"you failed as his betrothed. if you had befriended him as i ordered you to, perhaps the brat would have been less motivated to speak out of turn! now look at us (name), you've doomed us."
of course this logic was nonsensical, but twelve year old you couldn't understand that. all you knew was that you disappointed your father and your people were dying because of you and the prince that refused to be your friend.
that was how you came to hate the man you were marrying.
àŠ
zuko was a man of honor. at least that's what he told himself to force his signature on the marriage document as he stood next to his bride who look equally as miserable as he felt.
he had put this off for as long as he could. he dated mai for several years, even came up with the idea to marry her but could never bring himself to do it. as firelord he could make it happen with the snap of his fingers but he could never get himself to just ask the fucking question, so he didn't. something always holding him back.
and he didn't blame her when she finally broke things off after his twenty-eighth birthday a few months ago, even if it turned him more bitter than he'd like to admit. she deserved someone who could give her the one thing zuko had not been able to offer.
later that night during the reception, zuko hardly looked at you, nor did you look at him. though when he did he couldn't help but to admire your beauty. you looked otherworldly in your bridal dress, which paid homage to both the earth kingdom and fire nation. your hair matched his in a half up, half down style and sat atop your bun was your crown that declared you firelady.
an uncomfortable feeling sat in zuko's chest that he tried to force away, snatching his eyes away from the ring on your finger when you had caught him staring. he kept his eyes forward, watching the traditional performance as a fire blazed in his chest.
it wasn't that zuko disliked you. he remembered you from when you were only children and how kind you had attempted to be to him despite his all but dismissive attitude. you would talk and he would sit with a permanent scowl on his face, wishing he could sink into the ground.
the last time he had seen you, was two weeks before he was banished for speaking out. you were charismatic as always, hoping to gain a sliver of the princes attention. now you were a woman, filling out your body in all the right spots and barely looked at him.
by the time the after party came and the dancing started, zuko was three glasses deep in wine and began to feel a little brave as a light buzz ran through his body. the stress of marrying someone he did not know and the conditions that came with it, slipping to the back of his mind as the music began to flow through his body.
zuko wasn't much of a dancer. he fucking despised dancing, but it was his wedding night and he was feeling brassy, so fuck it.
he stood from his chair, tall frame hovering over you as he stared down with golden-yellow eyes that burned with a look you couldn't quite decipher. he reached his hand out to you, lips quirked in what one might understand as a forced smile.
"wife." he grumbled and you took in a sharp breathe. you hadn't expected him to speak to you. "care to share a dance with me?"
you inwardly cringed, though being careful not to show it. you wouldn't ruin your union, not again. you would show your father that he could trust you, count on you to bring peace to the kingdom. maybe you would prove that you were worth treating as a daughter now. someone he could love as much as he loved his sons.
so as much as you wanted to decline, you gave a strained "yes." and took your husbands hand.
the dance was gentle, uncomplicated and would have been quite enjoyable if it were with anyone else. at least that's what you told yourself that night, arms around his neck as he bent slightly so could reach. his large hands gripped your hips as he pulled you close to his chest.
you smiled politely as the knot in your stomach unfurled and traveled between your thighs. heat spread across your cheeks but you weren't in the slightest embarrassed. while you had never had anything more than oral sex, you were far from a liar and knew you wanted this man in your bed.
he was beautiful and the long hair gave him an aura most men lacked.
this would be so much easier if he was ugly. you thought.
you hated him for his actions that led you to being seen as failure by your father but that didn't mean you were against fucking him. you were his wife after all, you were expected to perform your duties and that was far from the problem.
your father had ordered you to be with child within a year but you knew you could never have a child with a man you would never love. this union had turned into something distinct from it's original purpose. an experiment they called it, to see if royals from different elements could marry successfully and produce an heir. within a year.
you had your own plan, which was to take the preventative herbs (you bribed a servant for it) anytime zuko fucked you. you hoped that soon enough he would realize his poor wife is barren and pick up a few concubines to carry his heir.
you had other ways to make the marriage successful, even if that meant no child.
"i hope the night has exceeded your expectations, my queen." the words soured on zuko's tongue. here he was with a beautiful woman in his hands, and still his ex lingered in the back of his head. the relationship had been failing for some time, he knew that, but the sense of familiarity being snatched from him left behind a hole he couldn't seem to fill.
still, he tried to his best to forget about her. it was his fucking wedding night and his wife looked good enough to eat. he made a mental note to lay off the wine for the rest of the night, lest you show interest in consummating the marriage.
you faked a smile. "did you have a hand in any of the planning?"
you wondered. your father hadn't given you a say and left the planning to the professionals, with the one rule of incorporating earth kingdom culture. you were upset about being excluded from your own wedding but the green banners mixed in with red littered the room and it looked like a dream as the earth and fire symbol blended as one.
"not much." he chuckled as he spun you and brought your body back to his, swaying as he tightened his grip on you. not enough to hurt but enough to keep you put.
"i only played a part in approving the budget, if that counts for anything. not much of an expert in the wedding area. got kicked out of the room when I asked why decorations were necessary"
you fought a smile and nodded in agreement. a sick part of you was glad he had been forbidden from participating as well, knowing you weren't the only person deemed unworthy of planning.
your first common ground as a married couple. nice.
just when you were about to respond, you were cut off by an obnoxiously loud voice yelling over the music and moving closer to where you and zuko stood. you could see the annoyed but amused smirk spread across your husbands face as he straightened and you despised his happiness.
when he pulled back from you and took your hand in his as you turned to face the incoming squealer, you had to fight the urge to snatch your hand away.
for the earth kingdom. for my honor. you reminded yourself.
"flameo hotman! congratulations on the wedding." yelled the avatar himself as he gripped zuko's shoulder, clearly drunk and pulled him into a quick hug. another man with shaved sides and a bun joining in. you had forgotten zuko was now friends with his once mortal enemy but you had no idea who the other person was.
your stomach churned at the thought of zuko having friends. something was truly wrong with you if he could buddy up with someone he once wanted to capture and not you, a girl who only wished to hold a basic conversation.
you swallowed your jealousy and smiled at the men who gawked at you.
"wow zuko, didn't think you were capable of swooning a goddess." the man in blue joked.
zuko groaned as you bit back a laugh. "sokka. please stop." though his hand moved to your lower back, posssessively.
"this is my wife, (name)." he allowed the men to introduce themselves. you of course already knew who aang was but took a special interest in sokka. he was funny and you loved that he embarrassed zuko. you could still hear his laughter as your husband walked you two back to your now shared room.
behind you, trailed your father, some earth guards and a few of zuko's advisors and guards of his own. they escorted you to the bedding ceremony but would not be staying. when you both got to the door, zuko turned and talked to his advisors while you turned to your father.
your heart skipped a beat at the look on his face. he was a tall man but still shorter than zuko and every bit your reflection, which made your lack of a relationship even more depressing.
"you've gotten this far. do not disappoint me child. remember all that is at risk." was all he fucking said.
not I love you, or I'm proud of you. not even a simple well wish for his daughter on her wedding night. but you smiled anyway and when you went to drop into a bow, his hand grabbed your arm to stop you. you ignored the burn from his too tight grip and bit back a wince.
"you are the firelady now. you bow to no one."
you stood straight and nodded your head, acknowledging that you heard him. his grip tightened a bit before loosening but not letting go completely.
"an heir within a year daughter-"
"wife. everything alright?" a deep voice cut through the lecture you were about to receive and you turned to see zuko with a death glare on his face.
"firelord zuko, all is-"
"wife. are you okay?" zuko ignored your father, eyes locked on you as if no one else existed.
you nodded and rubbed your arm after your father dropped it. you fought the burn in your eyes and moved toward the room door. your father didn't wait, simply smiling and moving down the hall. guards on his tail.
zuko left you in room that night after making sure you were fine, moving through the doors that connected yours to his. you had expected him to consummate the marriage but he only bid you a goodnight and closed the door behind him.
you of course, had no idea that zuko spent the next hour fighting the urge to find your father and knock his head off his shoulders for putting his hands on you.
you awoke to the sound of bells the following morning, your hair a mess from the deep sleep you had fallen into. only a minute later, servants and what appeared to be your lady in waiting burst through the doors with clothes and a tray of fruits and cheese.
after you ate and washed, your lady (who called herself yuri) began to dress you in a silk thin strapped dress before adding a corset and tying it tight to your body. you winced as the woman sat you at the vanity and began pinning up your hair, adding whimsical fire lilies and daylilies.
you grumbled at the manhandling but kept quiet nonetheless.
after breakfast, you found yourself walking through the halls of the palace, on a mission of exploration.
"yuri. what is expected of me today? will I have any council meetings of my own?" please say no.
she chuckled next to you, speeding up to match your pace, two guards following behind. "you have no schedule, firelady."
"and why not?" you shot her a look of confusion. your father had you tutored in fire nation politics and etiquette since you were a child, so you weren't expecting this.
"because you are on your honeymoon, my lady."
you stopped, the guards behind you slowing their pace with annoyance. you hadn't thought of a honeymoon. you and zuko were supposed to be spending these hours cuddled in bed but he was no where to be found. what would you say anyways? you still hated him and felt incredibly awkward after he experienced the way your father handled you.
so you spent your first days as firelady eating sweets, drinking tea, exploring the palace grounds and reading a book. you did not see zuko. not at breakfast, or tea time, or dinner. how were either of you meant to fulfill your duties if he avoided you like you were a plague?
your guards began to bother you. they were constantly on your tail, the only alone time you got being when you slept or bathed. you had no doubt that zuko ordered them to do so, though you couldn't understand why. you were his wife, not his enemy and there was peace between your respective kingdoms, as far as you knew. plus you were more than capable of defending yourself.
the next time you saw zuko was five days past your wedding night. internally, you were fuming and feeling more insecure than ever. on the outside, you flashed your practiced smile and sat with him over a private breakfast in the gardens. he had a small enough table brought out and the two of you sat in silence.
he looked everywhere but at you and you stared through his soul. he looked hungover and agitated, as if he would rather do anything but be in your presence right now.
"where have you been?" you broke the ice. tea long gone, patience beyond worn. five fucking days. unbelievable.
zuko straightened and ran his fingers through his hair. it was free today, falling down his back as the wind blew it back gently. "I uhm-" he cleared his throat.
"have i offended you?" you had always been blunt when upset and no matter how much your guardian attempted to erase it, that had remained your one trait that stuck.
his eyes widened as he faced you fully this time. "no! i- just, i was busy with firelord duties. I did not mean to make you feel neglected."
you scuff and ball your fists under the table, fingers digging into your palms, your own hair whipping from the wind adding fuel to your agitation. it was more than just his duties, the man was actively avoiding you. you never saw him in the halls or pretty much anywhere and whenever you asked for his whereabouts, you were stiffly told that he was otherwise occupied. you were beginning to think-
"do you have a lover?" you hadn't the energy to bite your tongue. he was your husband after all and if you could not speak freely, this marriage was sure to fail.
he sighed and put his elbow on the table, forehead going onto his hand. "i am far too tired for this conversation. can we postpone?" the bottom of his palm rubbed at his sunken eyes.
your eye twitched. how fucking dare he. "when is a convenient time for the firelord to argue with his wife? i must admit, I thought you would have grown out of this by now, seeing as your buddies with your mortal enemy but can't spare your wife a few minutes to converse or let her know you're fucking alive."
"you are unbearable." he muttered before standing.
you were hot on his heels, following him to your rooms in a silent rage as to not cause a scene. you were madder than you had ever been. the only person to have ever dismissed you so rudely was your father and you would die before you took it from your husband as well.
but why were you so upset? you hated him, you shouldn't have wanted anything to do with him. maybe it was your trauma of being treated as less than, maybe it was jealously that his attention was going elsewhere. maybe you were sexually frustrated and needed a release.
it didn't fucking matter. zuko was acting like anything but a husband and you refused to deal with it past this day. which is why as soon as the door to your room slammed shut, you followed him to his conjoined chambers, ignoring his grunts of annoyance.
"why don't you just tell me what i've done wrong huh?" you bellowed, fist balled at your side.
zuko stared at you like you were mad as he shrugged off his robes. you tried to not stare at his arms, failing miserably. "are you so self absorbed that you believe everything is about you?"
"ha!" you sarcastically laugh, throwing your hands up. "considering you've been avoiding your new wife when we should be on our supposed honeymoon. can you really blame me for feeling that way?"
this man was maddening and you were fuming at yourself for having this conversation. you should have allowed him to stay away, to avoid building any kind of bond with this animal who you despised.
why were you allowing him to get under your skin?
"you've done nothing wrong, wife." he spits the word with disgust and the feeling was fucking mutual.
zuko honestly didn't know what had gotten into him. he was frustrated, hung over from his visit to republic city with sokka and consumed with guilt over his marriage after he'd gotten a letter from mai.
he'd hid it away without reading it, opting to leave his past in the past. he was fucking loyal, wether you believed him or not he was a far cry from the man his father was. so why couldn't he just say that?
"fine, I'll leave."
he ignored your yells as he marched out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
àŠ
for the next two weeks you danced around each other, only saying good morning, small hellos if you passed one another in the hall, or short conversations if you needed to discuss anything that required both of your signatures. it was a marriage in the formal sense only. you weren't even friends, hardly acquaintances, far from lovers.
most of your time was spent making public appearances, council meetings with zuko, reading, gardening or honing your bending skills in the training yard.
that's where you had been when zuko summoned you for the first time. anger burning bright as you used your feet and hands to earth bend, lifting different sized boulders, smashing them against walls and metal bending surrounding weapons. your hair which was braided behind your head, whipped with each vicious turn.
the guards watched with concern and a mild interest. some glared, not happy about the reminder that their firelord married an earth bender, let alone one that could bend metal.
"my lady. the firelord wishes for you to join him for lunch." yuri called from afar, too scared to get close.
you wished you didn't hear her because now you sat across the table, glaring daggers at your husband who looked unfairly desirable with his hair tied behind his head, bangs falling to the sides of his face.
you were freshly showered, now dressed in a fire colored silk dress, hair covering your shoulders as it was still drying from your bath. you were silent but zuko said nothing either, both waiting for the other to crack first.
a servant waltzed over to refill your cups before sensing the tension and hurrying their task, wishing to be far away from the dam that was cracking.
"i know you hate me and you have every right to." he started, his deep voice making the hair on your arms stand up. you hated that he was able to coax this reaction from you.
you only hummed in response so zuko swallowed his pride and continued. "I have not given you much reason to like me, i suppose. disappearing after our wedding, avoiding you, living in the past. it was selfish and i deeply apologize for it."
you didn't know what to say, anger withering a bit as you sat stunned and frozen to your seat. you hadn't expected him to be so straight-forward, it was far from his personality.
"you don't have to respond. i just- wished you to know that and hope that maybe we can start over. can we be friends?"
you quirk a brow. "i did try that, if you don't remember. you rejected me over and over then went and got yourself banished. i suffered years of abuse for that little stunt by the way."
you knew you shouldn't have been blaming him for that. from what you were told, he did the right thing by standing up for his people even if he suffered the ultimate consequence.
he grimaced before offering a small smile as a peace offering. "believe in second chances?"
lucky for him, you did. zuko spent the following weeks learning about you as if he had never met you before. every night, no matter how hard the day was, you'd find yourselves on either his bed or yours, asking the most mundane questions to deep, personal ones.
"how'd you get the scar?" you asked, legs crossed on zuko's bed. he sat in front of you in nothing but his pants, opting out of wearing a shirt. he claimed it was too hot, though his window had been left open, cooling the room with the outside breeze.
you didn't mention it, instead focusing on the scar on his chest.
"hmm, a gift from my lovely sister." his hand ran over the red mark.
he explained to you how azula had tried to kill his friend katara and he jumped in the way of the lightning. your heart clenched. this zuko was a different person from the selfish, angry boy you once knew. it made you wonder what he might do to protect you.
"what's your type?" you quickly ask in an attempt to smother those very much unwanted thoughts.
"isn't it my turn?" he chuckles, raising his brow at you. he leaned back on his arms, his hair framing his face as it fell down his back. your eyes betray you as they travel from his muscular arms and chest, down to his happy trail. you didn't mean to, really, but you bit your lip when you noticed his cock was straining against the confines of his trousers.
"my wife."
you head snaps up, face flashing when you realize you've been caught by the shit eating grin on his face. "hmm?"
"my answer is my wife. next question."
the shameless flirting continued after that. you had shown clear interest and zuko wouldn't let the opportunity pass. he was doing much better than he was during the first week of his marriage. the more he spent time around you, the less he thought of mai. in fact, zuko couldn't remember the last time he did think of her in the past two weeks.
it had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to notice just how truly attractive you were in looks and personality. his cock ached every time you were near and lately, his right hand has become his best friend. some days you would notice the effect you had on him and purposely entice him. like the other night during your twenty one questions session, you had worn a tank top with silk shorts that fit your hips just right and didn't leave much to the imagination.
zuko became possessive after that. any man who looked or talked to you became a potential threat. at galas he'd scare off any onlookers, standing right behind you with a death glare that reminded people that he was in fact, ozai's son.
you never noticed of course. your friendship was still blooming and he didn't want to mess up that progress because he decided to finally notice you and hated that others did too.
that would end the following week, when zuko's advisors requested an audience. all seven of them. and they requested for you to be present.
you sat at opposite ends of the long table, each side hosting all of the men that called this emergency meeting.
"pray tell what you've summoned my wife and i for?"
the men seemed almost embarrassed to speak up, grumbling their gratitude for their firelord accepting this meeting. just when zuko thought no one would talk, his grand chamberlain cleared his throat. you fiddled with your hands under the table.
"I beg your pardon for broaching a matter of a more personal and delicate nature, but may I ask about the well-being of your majestyâs union, and whether there has been any progress toward securing an heir to the throne?
your heart dropped but zuko only looked annoyed. in the weeks of getting to know each other, you had forgotten what you were sent here to do in the first place. secure an heir. show that the elements can mix and bring peace to both nations.
you made a mental note to throw out your herbs, guilt eating at you as you now considered zuko to be a decent person. you had expected him to still be that arrogant boy he once was and having no idea what kind of marriage you were walking into, had a servant secure you the preventatives.
it wasn't malicious but merely a way to protect yourself.
when you both retire to your chambers that night, zuko lingers in your room, towering over you as he holds your hands, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles in a way that makes you ache.
"i hope you understand that I would never force that on you. this is our marriage and we decide what happens in it and when, not creepy old men who no longer represent what this nation needs."
you weren't sure you loved him yet but you didn't need to love him in order to uphold your duties and create an heir for the nation. a symbol of peace for the rest of the world. you had never had more than oral sex from a few more than willing guards but your body craved zuko's touch and his cock as if it had experienced the feeling of being stuffed before.
"and what would you do if I said I wanted that? to give you an heir? this is our duty after all, our marriage is an experiment and maybe.. it's time we actually put it to the test."
zuko looked pained, as if every word you spoke brought him closer to death. you sank into his touch, head tilting as his hand moved up and cupped your chin. his thumb slowly rubs against your bottom lip
"if your words were truthful, I would take you to bed right now. show you how sorry I am for waiting to do this and then i'd fill you until you were full with my child."
you gasped, your stomach doing flips as he used his other hand to pull you impossibly closer, your breasts flush against his lower sternum. the man was a giant and you had to lift your head to look at him while this close.
"then do it, my lord, because i can assure you that my word is always truthful."
zuko smiled, a true one that showed his very small dimples before he slowly leaned his head down. when his lips finally met yours, fireworks exploded in your body. his lips were soft, movements gentle as he held your face in his hands.
you moaned against his mouth when his tongue dragged across your lips, testing your boundaries. you gladly opened your mouth, trading saliva with your husband as your tongues fought for dominance.
zuko fought the urge to bend you over the bed and take you deep and fast. he was well experienced in matters of the bedroom but you had him leaking precum and feeling like he could burst right there like a fucking virgin, his cock twitching in his trousers, begging to be inside of you.
he moved his hands from your face and slowly slid the robes down your shoulders until they fell to the floor. he pulled back from you for only a few seconds.
"you are truly ravishing wife." and before you could respond, his lips were back on yours. large, calloused hands dragged your dress up your hips before one spread your legs, fingers teasing your clit in slow circular motions.
you were soaked, your liquid coating the inside of your thighs as you whined against zuko's mouth. you returned the favor and pushed his robe off, fingers moving to undo the bun atop his head, throwing his crown to the floor.
"fuck." zuko grumbled before quickly discarding your dress and pushing you backwards toward the bed, his hands exploring your naked body as his mouth attacked yours.
when he finally had you laid out on the bed, he stood back and watched you. his wife. you were beautiful, dressed in nothing but your skin, hair fanning out across the sheets, body drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
"tell me what you want." he teased. zuko tossed his shirt then lowered his pants only half way, his hands freeing and gripping his thick cock.
your mouth watered at the size of him as your own hand made its way down to your dripping cunt, mouth dropped open in a moan as your fingers made contact.
"fuck me husband. do your duty to our nations and bed your wife."
zuko was whipped, quickly discarding the rest of his clothing and framing his long body between your legs. his cock rubbed against your pussy, your juices mixing together as zuko gripped the sheets above your head in an attempt to calm himself.
he lowered his head, trailing his nose against the skin of your neck, inhaling deeply before placing a kiss against your pulse. he began to grind his hips against yours, moving his hand to grab onto your breast, lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth.
"zuko." you huffed, bucking your hips up for more friction, his tongue playing with your nipple sending chills through your body. "enough. i need you inside of me." you tug his hair lightly.
he complies almost immediately, a sly smirk on his face before he smashes his lips onto yours. zuko pulled his hips back only slightly, reaching his hand down to line his cock with your entrance. his rubbed the tip up and down your pussy a few times, covering himself with your juices before he slowly pushed forward.
you were unbelievably tight, your walls gripping and contracting around his cock. the fit wasn't perfect, zuko had to put extra force behind his thrust until he sat snug inside you.
a virgin. zuko fought the urge to cum then and there, the thought of being the first person to be inside of you doing awful things to his mind. pride and possessiveness swelling in his heart and making his head big.
you were in another world. the stretch of your husband finally stuffing you had you making sounds you didn't think possible. and when he finally moved, your hands clawed at his back as your eyes squeezed shut.
this was better than your time with your guards. the mixture of pain and pleasure setting your body ablaze as zuko thrust his fat cock deep inside of you.
"nngghh, that feels-oh! so good zuko." you moaned, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. when you finally opened your eyes, he looked down at you in awe.
his mind spun with feelings he wasn't ready to admit yet. the way you looked at him, eyes glassy as he was deep inside of you. something about the moment was too intimate, too close to a feeling he refused to acknowledge.
so when you cried out for him to go harder, he obliged. he hooked one of your legs over his arm and went deeper, his balls smacking into your ass as he pounded his way to ecstasy.
all too fast, a knot was forming in your stomach. "ooh fuck, m'gonna cum!" you cried, wrapping your other leg around his waist.
"that's it, love. let go for me." he grunted into your ear, nibbling at the lobe and you were gone. head thrown back in pleasure, your orgasm crashed into you like a wave. red pulsing pleasure pulling you under as tears streamed down your face.
zuko fucked you through it, his strokes faltering as he neared his own orgasm. he buried his head in your neck as he fucked you harder, one hand moving to grab your ass as he pounded you ruthlessly.
he grunted as he shot ropes of cum deep inside of you, painting your walls white as the wind was knocked out of him. he didn't stop, he kept his pace as he dropped buckets into you, his hand squeezing your ass tight enough to leave a bruise.
his mouth dropped open only an inch as steam rose from his body.
àŠ
the next day you were an entirely different person. you let your ladies bathe you, dress you and fix your hair without any complaints. you didn't mind your guards following you as you made your way to where you were told you could find your husband.
there was a confidence in your step. you felt and walked like a woman now. gone was the young sheltered princess and in her place was a firelady who was possibly carrying the future of this nation.
"oh!" you gasped as you passed the gardens and thought of the new plants you were experimenting with. a mixture of fire and day lilies to represent yours and zuko's union. you smiled to yourself as you thought of your plan to bring him here later and show him what you had been working on.
you weren't an expert in gardening but as a locked away princess, a lot of your time was spent in the garden when you weren't taking lessons in etiquette, politics or earth bending. the palace gardener took pity on you, a young girl mopping about the lawn, and began to teach you when you were eight.
"one quick detour gentlemen, and then we'll go to my husband."
when you found your special plot which was tucked away near the fountain, you stopped dead in your tracks as your heart thumped violently in your chest, smile vanishing in an instant.
stood with his lips locked against a woman you did not recognize, was your husband. his eyes were wide before he pulled back and stepped away, running his hand through his head. the woman was beautiful, with hair darker than zuko's and features so sharp they could cut.
"zuko." you whispered, but it was loud enough for him to hear you as he whipped his head towards you, eyes wide as time seemed to slow. why couldn't he speak? sweat beaded at his neck as his hands shook.
"what is the meaning of this?" you asked as tears formed in your eyes. how could he? after everything. after the weeks you spent together, after last night. did it mean anything to him or was he simply playing his role and carrying out his duties as firelord?
"love, it's not-"
"I was just leaving." the woman cut in but you bolted before she had the chance. tears streamed down your heated cheeks as you hiked your dress in your hands and ran past your guards, the men following in confusion.
your marriage was a faux and the reality of that left you glued to your bed for the rest of the day. tears streaming down your face as you wished you never threw away those herbs.
part two
đâ đâ â Ëâ àŠâ Ëâ â đâ đ
note: as per the results of the poll, here's part one of the zuko arranged marriage fic! it's based on the show queen charlotte so expect some more angst in future parts but i promise it's worth it!
sexymayor!kento had a very serious campaign compared to his competitors. no funny business whatsoever!! no social media campaigns, no tv shows, no jokes, nothing! he has a city to run! however his assistant informs him it would be useful for him to do something. he can keep it serious, but if he wants to win, itâs necessary.
sexymayor!kento feeds the homeless, runs the breast cancer marathon, volunteers at the childrenâs ward in the hospital and helps at the toy drive. but heâs still down a few points. thereâs one last thing in his way. you. the librarian. you run the biggest library in the city and youâve been against him the whole time! tell all the parents not to vote for him because he doesnât do anything for the libraries or their summer programs.
sexymayor!kento cannot lets this slide. his assistant swiftly scheduled him to host a huge reading to the kids moment, changing the hearts of all their stubborn parents. heâs set to win and change the beautiful city he lives in. but you still donât like him. his perfect face and his stupid perfect eyes and his perfect hair and his stupid perfect biceps. he catches on quickly. and he personally reaches out to you to make everything between you two right. a nice dinner, if youâd like. a simple meeting, if youâd prefer. whatever your heart desires, kento will give it to you. he needs to know he can count on your vote.
sexymayor!kento takes you to a veeery nice restaurant, away from prying eyes. he holds your hands and promises to fulfill your every desire. everything you need for the library is yours. anything he can give you, itâs yours. well right now, he can give you another glass of wine. and another, and another, and maybe the whole bottle. after two bottles of wine between the two of you, tensions were eased and almost too relaxed. your foot dragged up his leg under the table as he talked. his eyes raked across your body, your dress hugging all your curves and complimenting your black skin.
thatâs how you found yourself underneath sexymayor!kento and his huge, fat, throbbing cock. locked in the meanest mating press, your legs and hips ached and wanted release, your ties and neck assaulted with hickeys and your g-spot crushed after each stroke. his cock is so big, you have no idea how he walked around with this thing in his pants. his strokes were so deep and filling, and so painfully slow. he wanted you to feel him and to feel hot much he wanted you. he had cum twice. you, thrice. he didnât pull out. you didnât want him to. you wanted him to stay nestled inside your tight pussy, stretching you, and filling you. he wanted to keep hearing your soft whimpers and moans, hear you call him daddy and sir, feel your nails dig into his skin.
sexymayor!kento was completely hooked on your pussy. you gripped him just right, you were soooo wet and he couldnât stop thinking of the two of you doing this every night. the smell of shea butter in his sheets, your brown skin in his arms and your perfect pink pussy wrapped around him always. kento found himself imagining a perfect white picket life with you. with every thought, his strokes got deeper, if it was even possible. his lips locked on yours, absorbing your growing moans. once again you were unraveling under him, clenching around him around as you came again. he didnât last much longer than you, filling you up with a third load, feeling it spill out, ever so slightly. the two of you were out of breath, just staring at one another.
sexymayor!kento won the mayoral race. he was getting heat towards the end for not being married or having a family of his own. but once he assured patrons he would be married very soon, that tied the knot (no pun intended). the two of you were attached at the hip. you came to all his events and he made many activities happen at the library just to spend even more time with you. it wasnât long before the public noticed not only a very fat diamond on your hand, but a sudden need for large coats and bags to cover your midsection.
an: not proofread iâm sawry!! anyways i luv my husband
Summary: When a visa issue puts you at risk of leaving Japan, you end up in a fake engagement with your assistant/secretary Satoru Gojo as a last resort. But after meeting his family in Kyoto and spending more time together, the line between performance and reality uncomfortably blurs.
Content Warnings: MDNI, plot w/no porn (for awhile hehe), mentions of deportation, brief mentions of infidelity between two individuals, work misconduct, n*oya z*nin, fake engagement, fake marriage, enemies to lovers, boss!reader x secretary!nerdjo, suguru, shoko, and nanamin cameo, yeah thats abt it
Chapter One:
Satoru Gojoâs mornings weren't built for urgency that came with tardiness.
They were built for repetition. For patterns that comforted him despite how belittling. For the quiet certainty that even when things went wrong, they would still somehow arrive exactly where he expected them to be.
Which was why the current situation felt almost offensive.
His alarm had already survived the seven times he slammed it shut before opening his eyes. By the time he actually got up, it was because someone else had decided he needed to.
A call from Suguru who was already in the office. His voice tight, "Where the hell are you Satoru?! The boss is in a total mood today and if you don't get your albino ass here in 15 minutes with her favorite coffee, you're screwed Gojo!"
Satoru sat up slowly, one hand dragging through his hair, the other already reaching for his phone like it had not betrayed him by ringing in the first place.
âYeah yeah,â he yawned, voice still rough with sleep, âI'm late....â
".....it's 8:57"
âShit shit shit! I'm fucking late!" Satoru hung up before they could argue further.
His first mistake of the morning was even answering that phone. The second was forgetting coffee. Luckily that one fixed itself quickly.
His apartment was too clean for how chaotic he was. Everything existed in a state of almost order. Shirts half aligned. Papers stacked with intent but no follow-through. His room decorated with Digimon posters and figurines that he chose to prioritize rather than non instant-ramen dinners.
He showered fast. Water crashing down his pale skin as he managed to rapidly scrub himself red. By the time Satoru was out he was tightening his tie before loosening it again like he was negotiating with it. Shirt buttoned with one hand while he checked messages with the other. Suguru, Shoko, and Nanami kept trying to reach him but he kept ignoring them.
Satoru grabbed his keys. Pausing and when the realization hit, he sighed. âMy glasses!â he groaned before dashing to his nightstand. Grabbing his wobbly thick rimmed pair.
Then there was the coffee, that was the real priority.
The bell above the door chimed when he walked in. âYou're later than usual Gojo,â the violet eyed barista Hana teased immediately, not looking up yet.
âMorning Hana-chan, â he replied.
She finally glanced at him, already reaching for his order without asking. Black coffee. Extra shot. No sugar. The same thing every day. Predictable enough to be insulting. âI knew you wouldn't miss a day,â she exclaimed as she worked. "Got your order ready for you anyways Gojo."
The drinks slid across the counter. Perfect as always. He reached for it immediately. âHave a good day,â she said.
âI always do,â he replied automatically.
And then, because he was already mentally somewhere else, already halfway into the building and out of this conversation, he left. Satoru didn't notice what was written on the cup. He rarely noticed things like that.
By the time Satoru reached your building, the city had already shifted into full motion. Glass reflections, traffic noise, the steady rhythm of people pretending they were not all trapped in the same system.
He moved through it like he was slightly out of sync with everything else. The elevator ride was predictable. Someone avoided eye contact. Someone else looked at him twice like they were trying to confirm he was real. Satoru simply ignored both.
When he stepped out onto your floor, the air changed immediately.
It was all less noise. More pressure. The kind of silence that meant something had already gone wrong and everyone was waiting to see how badly it would land.
Down the corridor, voices carried too clearly. He slowed, curiosity always won against responsibility. And then he saw you. You were standing in the center of it all, completely still. Not tense. Not reactive. Controlled in a way that made everyone else look unstable by comparison.
Opposite you stood a man Satoru vaguely recognized. Mid-level. Confident enough to be dangerous, not competent enough to survive it. Naoya Zen'in.
âYou think you can just sit there and dictate everything?!â he yelled, âlike you're untouchable? You do not even understand how things actually work in the field you fucking venomous snake!â
Satoru leaned lightly against the wall, coffee still in hand, watching.
âI asked for updated figures,â you replied finally, calm and precise. âNot your interpretation of my authority.â The man scoffed. âYou are impossible to work with! How would anyone know what a wishy-washy woman like you wants?!â
âIncorrect,â you replied. âI am impossible to work with incompetently, Zenin.â His gaze drifted to his colleagues, as if they'd assist him in any way that mattered. A few people shifted under his glare. Satoru however couldn't hide his grin. He tilted his head slightly.
This was already entertaining.
âYou know what your problem is?â Naoya spat, his face red with humiliation. âYou're a tyrannical bitch! Nobody can fucking stand a sick woman like you!â
The room froze. Even Satoru paused for half a second. That was not a common reaction. You blinked once before stepping forward.
Oh.
That was when he knew it was over.
âRepeat that,â you asserted, rather cheerfully in a way that left everyone in unease. The man, emboldened by poor judgment, did. âYou heard me. You are a vapid bitch.â
Silence sharpened. Then you nodded once.
âUnderstood.â
Something in your expression closed off completely. âEffective immediately,â you said, âyou are terminated.â A laugh broke out from him, sharp and disbelieving.
âYou can't do that.â
âI already have.â That ended the argument right there. Then, without even looking away from him, you addressed HR.
âEscort him out.â
The manâs expression shifted rapidly now. Confusion collapsing into anger. âYou will regret this,â he snapped. âI will make sure your career collapses. I will ruin you!â
That made the air tighten. Satoru watched you more closely now. You stepped closer, not aggressive, but final.
âMaybe if you spent more time managing your career,â you assured softly, âand less time managing your mistress, you would still have one.â
Security arrived by then. You turned away before they reached him. Like he was already irrelevant. Satoru straightened slightly as the corridor cleared. That was when he decided to move.
You were already back at your office when he arrived. Of course you were. He knocked, but at this point it was more of an announcement with Gojo rather than a request.
He placed the coffee on your desk without ceremony.
âBefore you say anything,â he said, âyes, I saw it.â
You didnât look up.
âI didn't ask for your input Gojo.â You glared, your gaze controlled and flat, a warning almost. But he leaned against your desk anyway.
âI also brought coffee, per usual boss,â he added before passing you the cup. He didn't plan to have that prick Naoya manage to rile you up before Satoru's big request, but he was hoping the heavens could be on his side this time...
They weren't.
âLook, I've been thinking about that editorial expansion proposal.â
You exhaled, âno thank you, Gojo.â
âThat was fast.â
âIt remains no.â
He smiled much fainter than usual. âI would still like to pitch it properly.â
âYou will not.â
âI'll try again then, Boss.â
âFocus on your job.â
He straightened slowly, like that answer amused him more than it should have. âFine,â he uttered.
He turned toward the door to exist. Storming off with the door slamming behind him. This didn't phase you, Gojo was always insistent. You were holding your coffee now, expression unreadable, before your eyes flickered towards your cup. You walked out of the office and approached his desk
"Call me when you can Gojo-san!" you read out.
He blinked before quickly reaching towards the cup in utter confusion.
âOh,â he murmured. âI don't know what that's about ma'amâ
You paused before staring at him for a second longer. Then, almost dryly, you asked, âAre you collecting problems now or just ignoring the important ones in new creative ways, Gojo?â
You stepped out with your own coffee, already moving with purpose, already somewhere else mentally. Your eyes flicked once to his cup, then up to his face, then briefly back again like you were scanning something that required no further analysis.
ââŠhuh,â he murmured, more to himself than anything else.
Then he shrugged faintly and kept typing away, already deciding this advancement was not important enough to file anywhere in his brain that required long-term storage.
Behind him, your office door opened.
You stepped out with your own coffee, already moving with purpose, already somewhere else mentally. Your eyes flicked once to his cup, then up to his face, then briefly back again like you were scanning something that required no further analysis.
Satoru relaxed into his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other still holding the now-cold coffee like it was the only stable object in the room. His phone lit up with messages he had no intention of answering properly, and he was halfway through ignoring them when the meeting alert appeared.
He sighed, stood again, and grabbed the coffee more properly this time, like it had officially been assigned the role of emotional support object. If he was going to endure something tedious, he might as well be caffeinated while doing it.
The conference room was already full when he arrived. He didnât enter immediately. Instead, he paused outside the glass, catching fragments of conversation through the thin corporate barrier.
ââŠvisa risk escalatingâŠâ
ââŠno viable extension pathwayâŠâ
ââŠpossible enforced departure within weeksâŠâ
Satoru tilted his head slightly.
That was not standard corporate language. That was controlled panic disguised as procedure. He pushed the door open. âSorry,â he exclaimed, not sounding sorry at all, stepping inside casually. A few heads turned.
You didnât look up immediately. Of course you didnât.
He moved to the edge of the table, leaning slightly, coffee still in hand, posture relaxed in a way that always irritated people who were trying very hard to look serious.
âI need to flag something quickly,â he said, interrupting the flow without asking permission. âSuki is not available for the Kuroyanagi coordination.â
The room paused. The publishing head frowned. âExcuse me?â
âSuki,â Satoru repeated. âShe is getting married. Immediate transition. She will not be available to organize anything with Tetsuko Kuroyanagi.â Confusion rippled through the table.
âRight now?â someone asked.
âYes,â Satoru said. âApparently it is quite urgent. I was not informed until five minutes ago, so I am also adjusting emotionally.â No one responded to that part. You finally looked up.
âIs that all,â you asked, clearly unimpressed.
âYes.â
âThen sit down?â
He didn't. Instead he just stayed where he was, leaning lightly against the table edge. Because sitting implied compliance and he was not feeling particularly compliant after you shut down his dreams yet again. The meeting tried to continue. But it didnât recover because legal cleared his throat, shifting tone.
âWe need to return to the primary issue,â he said carefully. âThe visa situation is becoming critical.â That immediately pulled attention back into place. Satoru stopped pretending to scroll on his phone.
ââŠrisk of removal,â
ââŠno clean legal extension pathway,â
ââŠprocessing delay could extend up to a year for re-entryâŠâ
That last part changed the air in the room.
A year.
That was not a delay. That was removal with paperwork attached. Satoru looked up slightly and you were still completely still. Which meant you were thinking. Despite how much of an obstacle you were to his dreams, this company wouldn't be much without you. At least not for long.
âWe want you here,â the publishing head said carefully, turning toward you. âYour leadership is essential to ongoing expansion. Losing you would destabilize multiple strategic pipelines.â
âI understand,â you answered back.
âBut we require a mitigating condition,â legal continued. âA recognized status anchor. Familial association. Marriage. Dependency classification. Something documentable under review conditions.â Silence settled again.
Satoru slowly stopped moving. Not because he understood yet.
Because he was watching you.
There was a shift in you now. Subtle, internal, precise. The kind of recalculation that meant a decision was forming in real time. Then you spoke. âI see.â Satoru tilted his head slightly. That tone usually meant the outcome had already been selected.
You looked at him directly. And exclaimed, âI forgot to mention something.â The room waited, Satoru did not like that pause at all.
âI can't believe it slipped my mind! Luckily Suki's little dilemma reminded me, me, annd my beloved hereâŠSatoru are engaged.â You cheerfully announced, holding onto Satoru's arm.
Someone dropped a pen. Someone else made a sound that suggested oxygen had briefly stopped being available.
Satoru didn't move. For two, painfully stiff seconds.
Then slowly, he turned his head toward you. ââŠcome again?â
You looked at him like he was the one failing to keep up. âEngaged, sweetheart,â you repeated through nearly clenched teeth.
Then, without changing expression, he returned, âSweetheart.â That landed differently than Satoru expected. He blinked once, then twice. Then, he leaned back slightly in his chair, staring at you like reality had just shifted without permission.
âMhm, I wish this was a joke baby,â he almost chided.
âOh dear, of course it's not!â You retorted.
The publishing head looked between both of you rapidly now. âThis is⊠confirmed?â Like they wanted to believe it for themselves. You nodded once. Satoru exhaled slowly. ââŠsweetheart,â he repeated under his breath, like testing whether language still worked correctly.
You didnât respond. The room, however, did. Because hesitation began immediately at the board level. There was movement. Small shifts. Uneasy glances between senior members. Then one of them spoke.
âIs this⊠ethical?â
Satoru turned his head slightly toward the speaker. You did not.
You just looked at them as the silence stretched. Then the publishing head cleared his throat Before you could answer, another board member spoke again, more cautious now. âThis could be considered misrepresentation of employment status,â he added.
A pause, then another voice, quieter.âLegally, it isâŠsensitive I do suppose.â All eyes shifted slightly. Not to you, to Hamada.
He stiffened slightly in his seat, immediately aware he had been pulled into proximity of responsibility. âI am simply raising concerns,â Hamada rushed.
You finally turned your gaze to him. Slow and calculating before you spoke. âGiven your experience in this exact field, with your own office romance,â you commented, âI assumed you would not have an issue with procedural ambiguity.â
Hamada gulped. The implication landed fully. Meanwhile Satoru watched the exchange now with mild interest.
You continued. âUnless your past involvement in similar cases has changed your perspective on what is acceptable when outcomes are favorable.â Hamada shifted slightly in his seat. âOf course not,â he said quickly. âIf it is⊠operationally necessary.â
Then the publishing head exhaled, rubbing his temple once like he had already decided this was not worth fighting.
âAs long as the engagement is formalized,â he said carefully, âand leads to marriage within a reasonable timeframe, we can treat this as a valid mitigating circumstance.â
A few heads nodded slowly. It wasnât approval or agreement. Rather just acceptance of inconvenience. Satoru stared at the table for a moment. Then leaned slightly toward you again, voice low enough to avoid the room.
âYou just started a corporate loophole with one sentence,â he murmured. You still didnât look at him.
âFocus,â you chided as you leaned in. He exhaled once through his nose, almost amused again despite himself. ââŠthis is going to be a very long year,â he muttered.
And for the first time since morning, the entire room had decided to collectively look away from what they had just agreed to.
I never got to say thanks for 100 followers, now we're at 150 and that's rlly crazy y'all
anyways this is sort of a passion project of mine. I didn't proofread tho, it's really late and I wanted to wrap this chapter up. I'm planning on 5-6 chapters that focus more towards plot than smut
also the mean nerdjo oneshot will probs be out tmrw plz shall thy poetry blow up thy tumblr lords i think i failed chem for ts
anyways thanks to my pookie @whispersingojo for the idea of cocky nerdjo being the chosen gojo! gosh i love my albino king
ê€ husband!nanami loooves when you wear your nightgowns. mdni thick!woc!reader
nanami adores your little nightgowns, the ones that drape over your body so beautifully in all sorts of colors, designs, and fabrics.
youâve always worn them every now and then, but after having your first baby, they earned a special place in your closet.
now you have two, only two years apart. itâs been about a year since your youngest was born, and your body has definitely changed. fuller, softer, and heavier in all the right places.
it made his mouth go drier than the sahara desert. seeing your new figure in fitted dresses and tops was already enough to leave him speechless, but seeing you in a muumuu stirred something entirely different within him.
heâs grown used to seeing you wander around in them, but that doesnât mean he doesnât still feel a twist of need and desire in his stomach every time.
when youâd run up to him after a long day of work to greet him with a hug and a kiss, heâd feel absolutely nothing under there. whenever you walked away, your ass would bounce with each step, hypnotizing the man.
he started lingering near you wherever you went, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach for you and fondle you while you cooked, while you shopped, and even while you bathed your babies.
maybe thatâs what it was. you looked so maternal in those flowing nightgowns that it made him feel as if he was going feralâŠ
one night, you pressed gentle kisses to your babiesâ chubby little cheeks after they finally drifted off to sleep. no more phantom owies and no more tears (for now).
he stood at the doorway. his dark eyes traveled down your body, already imagining what heâll do to it. you were wearing dark blue and gold tonight. heâs convinced that you knew what you were doing to him.
when the door clicked shut behind you, you barely managed to take a step into the bedroom before your husband caught you by your shoulders and gently pinned you against the wall.
ânana, whatâre youâmmph!â youâre swiftly cut off as his lips crashed into yours, kissing you as if he hadnât done so in years. your jaw was tight in his grasp. you gasped for air between the kisses just for him to swallow them up like he was starving.
âh-honeyââ you mumbled between his constant kisses, your lips were wet with affection and your mind was already foggy⊠your hand reached out to his shirt, tugging weakly.
he let out a low groan inside of your mouth. it hasnât even been a minute yet and your thighs are already clamping together. he was acting so⊠feverish? you were all about nanami loving on you, but this was a bit different.
he tilted his head, sucking your bottom lip like it was fruit. a soft, high-pitched moan spilled out of your mouth as he continued to massage his tongue on yours so messily.
when he finally pulled away, he looked down at your cute, flustered face. eyes low and dazed, lips swollen.Â
âkennnâŠâ you whined quietly, shifting under his gaze. your heart was beating out of your chest, and arousal started to leak down your thighs. you were embarrassed at how worked up you got just from kissing.
âforgive me, dear,â he mumbled, thumb reaching up to wipe off the spit sitting on your bottom lip. âbut i canât hold it in anymore. you look so beautiful⊠in these gowns,â he whispered, same hand cupping your face.Â
âseeing you walk around in them, being such a good mother, such a good wifeâŠ. it turns me on so much.â his rough, large hands run down your body, grabbing your ass and lifting you up with ease.Â
ââŠmakes me want to have another baby with you.â
you gasped softly at the salacious words, the thought of youâall round and glowing with his child again, made you feel all warm and tingly inside.
your feet that were once dangling off the floor, wrapped around his waist. âmmm, i donât think iâd mind thatâŠâ you said shyly.
um⊠maybe you shouldnât have told him that. because now youâre in a position that you literally canât get out of.
âohhhmygodddâkennn..!â now you were lying in bed, muumuu bunched up around your waist, and knees bent up against your chest as your husband stretched you out so deliciously.
âshhh, quiet, baby. i got you,â he whispered. he dragged his heavy dick inside of your warm walls back and forth, hips rutting into yours at such a rough, deliberate pace that makes you throw your head back. âdonât wanna wake up the kids, right?â
ân-no⊠mmpfhââ you bit your lip, trying to muffle your moans. you were already a dripping mess from the last time that you came. his balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, slushing your insides, causing the sound of wet flesh to echo through the room. every time he bottomed out, his shaft would glisten with your creamy slick.
you really, really hoped that the kids wouldnât wake up from the obscene noises you both were makingâŠ
âfucckk⊠p-pleaseee, namiâyouâre sâ deep..!â you whimpered. his bulbous tip jammed into your sweet spot over and over, rubbing it in a circular motion that had your thighs trembling at the stimulating sensation.
âmmfhâyeah? s-shitâŠâ his voice breaks when he feels your wet, gooey pussy clamp around his length. âyouâre doing so⊠sooo well, honey. taking me sâ good.â
even though your blurry vision, you can still see how wrecked he was. eyes heavy and unfocused, veins bulging out of his neck and forearms, jaw clenched tight⊠you can tell that he was trying to go easy on you. at the end of the day, he wanted you to get just as much satisfaction as he did.
nanami slowly rocked his hips into you, punching your cervix, drawing you closer. his breathing was unsteady, sweat glistening all over his body as he kept plunging his dick in and out of you.
his eyes darted to the cute bulge in your stomach, then back up to your fucked out face. the thought of him breeding you and giving you another child was so titillating. it made his dick throb harder for you.Â
he moaned under his breath before crashing his lips into yours. it was hot and messy, tongue and all. he pushed your knees even further up until they touched your ears. legs thrown over his shoulders, spreading you out even more.
when he pulled away, one of his hands crept up your thigh, pressing a wet kiss on the gold bracelet resting on your ankle. âsweetheartâŠâ he whispered against your skin. âwhich one do you wantâŠ?â
âhaah⊠w-whaââ
âthe baby, mâ loveâŠâ he cuts you off softly, swallowing hard. his restraint was slipping. you could feel him pulsing, precum smearing through your hot, sappy walls. âgirl o-or boyâŠ?â
your lips trembled as you looked up at his stern expression. the pleasure was so overwhelming. hot tears ran down your cheeks, and your throatâs stuck as if there was a brick in it. âmmm⊠g-girlâŠ! i wanâ another girl, ken..â
âyou want another girl? hm?â he breathed between moans, voice raspier then before.
you nodded frantically. âyesss! want my babyâpleaseeeâŠâ
âi hear you, daddyâs gonna give you what you want..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 something 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
â” LOVE OVER LOBLAWS ! đżđ. đđđđ
AITA FOR POSING AS A RICH MAN TO PULL A RICH GIRL..?
sum. when toji falls for the hot lady that frequents his shifts at the local grocery store, can his frat brothers help him pose as a rich hot bachelor ? or will you discover his kid & true identity first ? [n]sfw
âbrokie and a baby daddy but you wanna pull y/n? donât even joke, lad.â
ΣΧ
toji zenin is pretending to stack boxes in the third aisle of the local loblaws.
well, not exactly. toji zenin has his biceps flexing under the weight of crates but his eyes donât lift to the shelf he places them on. instead his pupils flit to the automatic entrance doors, thick & glass-heavy, before he glances at his watch & back to the door again. 12:30 PM sunday. toji knows you should be here by now.
but youâre not, so tojiâs lip twitches as he stares at the box of freezies in his arms and sighs. itâs pathetic, really. heâs got five more boxes of who-knows-what to arrange before the end of his shift but he canât fucking focus. his mindâs on your short skirt & pretty laugh & the way your voice goes sweet whenever he pretends to help you look for items while holding your hand between the aisles. toji grunts, shakes his head. focus focus focus.
âtoji.. can you help me reach the olive oil? the cold-pressed one with the pretty label?â
tojiâs head snaps up so fast he almost drops the box of freezies.
itâs youâoh god, itâs you, and youâre looking down at him with those pretty lashes & short skirt & your hands holding a basket behind your back. youâre in those cute kitten heels you had on the first time he saw youâdid you get your nails done? so pretty. youâre so pretty, youâre always so pretty, and tojiâs mouth dries.
he doesnât say anything because he canât, because your perfume smells like honey & has his lungs sticking to his throatâbut he slowly stands up anyway. youâre humming to yourself as you pad closer, getting in his way, heel clicking against the tile as he traps you in the aisle.
he reaches up to the glass bottle, and he can see your lashes fluttering up at him. your chest presses against his, and his lip ticks upward.
âyou want this, princess?â he mumbles.
you playfully swat his chest, but your palm doesnât slide off. youâre caressing his pecs now, teasing. âtoji, give it to me. i have a pasta to make tonight. iâm busy.â
toji chuckles, slipping the bottle into your basket and letting his palm sneak over your waist instead. your hands are still on his pecs, lightly squeezing as you laugh when he tugs you closer. he nuzzles your jaw, murmuring, âonly if i get an invite, sweetheart.â
âweâll see,â you tease as his tongue licks your earlobe. youâre running a thumb over the silver tag on his chest: TOJI. âif youâre good, maybe iâll let you wash the dishes.â
he kisses your neck. âmâalways good for you, baby.â
youâre giggling now, shoving him away with flushed cheeks & a laugh too bright. toji catches your hands, tugging you back with a smile on his face before squeezing your hips. your lips are so glossy. is that the new gloss you bought last week? can he kiss it off?
heâll never know, because heâs holding your hips while you tug at his collar and whisper something he doesnât care about in his ear. his manager calls his name.
fuck.
toji gives your hips one last squeeze. âgo pay, princess. iâll bag your stuff.â
âyou better.â you huff, spoiled & sweet, and toji can only watch the sway of your hips as you make your way to the register.
youâre a pretty girl with a posh life who will never know lack. tojiâs a 24-year-old whoâs still in college, working odd jobs with a son waiting at home.
in the third aisle of the local loblaws, toji zenin has his hands on his hips and his eyes on the ground. toji zenin will never say it out loud, but he knows he will never, ever, get the girl.
â” AT THE FRATHOUSE !
âyou canât pull someone like y/n, no offense.â
toji wishes suguru wouldnât spell it out. he already knows, for christâs sake.
in sigma chiâs living room, toji zenin is sprawled out on the center rug while suguru and sato eat on the floor beside him. sato is between getoâs legs with his back against getoâs chest & his toe tickling tojiâs jaw through his socks. suguru is tilting his shawarma for sato to bite from before taking a bite of his own.
satoâs about to dish out an insult of his own when the door swings open. in comes ryomen sukuna, standing in the doorway with bags in his hands and his limbs stretched out like some sort of clown. he bellows, âtherapy fucking sucked today. i still donât think i need therapy, by the way. watching porn and jerking off is completely normalâfuck you, suguru.â
âmaybe it is,â suguruâs lips are sticky with shawarma sauce, âbut having your dick out in the same room as other people is not.â
âa young man canât be an exhibitionist? suck my dick, man.â
âoh, iâm not hungry..â
sukuna trudges over tojiâs legs, then plops on the ground opposite sato and suguru. sato throws him the middle finger with a grin. sukuna throws it back. âi brought drinks. toji, whyâre you on the floor? ya need therapy too?â
sato snickers. âtojiâs fallen for a rich girl.â
sukuna snorts, âdonât even joke, lad.â but suguru and toji arenât laughing. his brows scrunch. âwaitââ he turns to toji, âyouâre serious?â
toji eyes him. âmind your own business.â
sukuna doesnât believe in complex schools of thought like âminding your business.â so instead of picking a shawarma for himself and eating in silence, he joins sato and nudges his foot against tojiâs cheek. âdoes she know youâre poor?â
âhey, hey,â geto bites his cheek, ânot too much on him.â
but sukuna continues. âwhat about the kid? does she know you have a son?â
tojiâs jaw only tightens.
sukuna looks at toji in disbelief. then at sato, then suguruâthen shakes his head, laughing. âjesus christ of jollof rice,â he cracks open a beer, âyouâre fucking cooked, bro.â
toji drags his hands over his face. his eyes are hot, for some reason.
suguru sighs, resting his chin on satoâs head as sato munches happily underneath him. âi hate to suggest this, but thereâs a way you can get her to give you a chance.â
sukuna and toji both perk up.
âif she doesnât know about megâor your, uh, economics,â suguru clears his throat, âthen you keep it that way. she thinks youâre some hot older uni student who works at loblaws for beer money. lean into it.â
sato frowns. âthis sounds like something iâd suggest. so not good, i think.â
suguru pokes his cheek, making satoâs pout grow deeper. âiâm just spit-balling here. itâs obvious you really like her, toji. and megumi needs a mommy.â
âi donât like her because i want her to play housewife.â
âwe know,â suguruâs smile is affectionate. âthatâs why weâll help you.â
sukuna grunts in agreement. âsounds scummy but it makes sense. if she finds out youâre a baby daddy with no money, sheâll just run back to her range rover.â he takes another swig of his beer. âweâll help you hide your true identity. you just get her hooked enough that when she eventually does find out, she wonât leave.â
sato nods. âweâll babysit. lend you money. heckâyou can drive my porsche to your dates.â
on the floor, toji zenin is staring towards the ceiling. itâs a stupid plan, his frat brothers are even stupider, and there is no way in hell whoever is up there will actually let things work out in his favor.
but tojiâs desperate. he has been for a long time. so before he can let himself think about it, his lips part to respond.
âalright,â he grunts. âletâs fucking do it.â
SIGMA CHIâS REMARK : DONâT WORRY BRO, WE GOTCHU !
BROKE BOY TACTICS #2: WHOâS YOUR DADDY ?
taught by: sato, sukuna, suguru
âbabysitting a five year old brat. how hard could that be?â
ΣΧ
megumi zenin is tufts of black hair, sleepy blue eyes & a tiny fist in a jar full of gummy worms. heâs slumped against his dadâs thick leg, shoving fistfuls of gummies in his mouth with candy-smeared cheeks & a bored expression on his face.
sato, sukuna and suguru are side-by-side on a straight line.
hands tucked behind their backs & chests puffed out like soldiers. toji clears his throat. âlisten up. iâm going to be gone for exactly two hours. if i come back and the kid has a single scratch on him, iâm throwing all of you into a pond.â
suguru shakes his head, stepping forward to crouch down to megumiâs height. he wipes megumiâs cheeks with a smile. âdon't worry, toji. we've got him. right, little man?â
âhi, uncle sugu,â megumiâs voice is flat but he leans into getoâs palm on his cheek. âare we going to draw today?â
âof course, kiddo. i bought some new crayons just for you.â
toji scoops his son up in his arms, ignoring the way his tiny body writhes towards the gummy worms abandoned on the floor. suguru lifts the jar back to megumi with a smile. sukuna, however, is frowning. âwhy is his face like that.â
âsukuna, do not fight my kid.â
megumi points towards him. âmy daddy calls you a pervert.â
sato bursts out in laughter. suguruâs snickering too, though heâs doing a better job of hiding it. toji drops his son to the ground and crouches to his height. megumi offers him a soggy, wet gummy worm. toji eats it off his palm & pokes his belly.
he rises to his feet. âsuguru is in charge. rest of you, keep your hands off him. iâm leaving.â
megumi waves a sticky hand. âbye, daddy. bring me a cookie.â
âwill do, brat.â and the door shuts with a thud.
ââ
âwe should go to wonderland. you like amusement parks, âgumi?â
megumi zenin has a crayon in his hands, scribbling furiously with a focused expression on his face. heâs seated in getoâs lap, occasionally having suguru hand him a crayon as he perfects his artistic masterpiece. to his right, sato gojo is leaning over the table and talking a mile-a-minute.
megumi answers, scribbling a drawing of what looks like him and his fatherâDADDY AND ME. âiâve never been to an amusement park.â
âwhat?â sato slams his palm on the table, distraught. âwhat kind of kid has never been to an amusement park?!â
âmy father is poor.â
âoh,â sato shrinks. âfairs.â
suguru lets out a fond huff, burying his nose in megumiâs hair to hide the fact that heâs shaking from laughter. sato looks crushed by guilt. âi canât take this anymore, suguru.â he clutches his chest. âweâre going to the apple store and getting him an ipad pro right now.â
suguru raises a brow. âtoji said no screens. and either way, i wonât let you turn him into an ipad kid.â
megumi slumps against getoâs chest. âi want a blue gatorade.â
âiâll get it for you, buddy,â suguru smiles before kissing his cheek, easing him off his lap. âdonât let sato teach you about investment and stocks while iâm gone, okay?â
sato has his chin on the table, defeated. and just as suguruâs back turns into the kitchen, sukuna saunters in, steps heavy, palm curled around a blue bottle ofâis that the last gatorade?!
sukuna cracks the plastic seal, taking a slow, heavy swig of the drink while staring right at the five year old. megumiâs tiny brows furrow. âthatâs mine. uncle sugu said i could have it.â
âwell,â sukuna licks his lips, slow. âuncle suguâs not the king of this house.â he takes another gulp, throwing his head back with a refreshed ahhhhhh. megumi frowns, lips tight.
and then he screams.
âuncle sugu! mister pervertâs being mean again!â
sukuna chokes on his gatorade. âwho the hell are you calling mister pervert, you little bratââ
sato jumps over the table to hold back sukuna before he can strangle the five-year-old. suguru runs out of the kitchen in alarm, quickly scrambling to hold back sukunaâs wrath alongside sato.
megumi only blinks at the display. three grown men bickering and shoving over gatorade. hell, heâs not so sure he even wants it anymore.
he sighs, reaching across the table to pick up satoâs iphone. he dials his dadâs number, palm smushed into his cheek as he watches suguru smack sukuna for his bad behavior.
â” AT THE DATE !
in the local coffee shop, your lashes are fluttering & the sunlight kisses your skin as you stare out the window.
toji zenin has his heart in his throat. his hands are in his pockets but his ribs are cracked against his chest, and the sight of you pouting out the window has his mouth drying with want. he strolls over regardless, posture lazy, steps cool, because toji zenin is a man who can only have pride when he pretends.
âhi, princess,â he slides into the booth seatânext to you, not across, because heâs been thinking about the feel of your waist in his hands since last thursdayâand his ankle hooks around yours on autopilot.
âhi,â you smile, leaning into his side as he kisses your hair. toji takes your palm in his. your fingers are so dainty. fuck.
âyou look nice today,â you hum. âwho are you trying to impress?â
your lashes are batting up at him, but toji manages to keep his cool. his smirk is lazy & gorgeous. âyou, obviously.â
toji wonders how you can let him touch you so casually. even now heâs nibbling your ear as you talk about something from classâa lazy professor or something else, itâs hard to listen when your thumb brushes his jaw while you speakâand tojiâs mind wanders. heâs kissing your neck now, thumbs rubbing circles on your thighs as your breath hitches between words, and toji wonders why you havenât yet flinched in disgust.
he doesnât dwell on it too long, though. he knows the topic will only get him down.
so he kisses your neck as you laugh and swat him away, telling him heâs distracting you from your story. you never push him off, though, and your thighâs on his lap now.
but all good things must come to an end.
tojiâs phone buzzes.
loud & obnoxious. SATO, his screen reads. he quickly swipes it away. âsorryâŠjust spam.â
âspam?â you poke his bicep, grinning. âor is your little side piece getting impatient?â
âdonât have a side piece, baby,â he murmurs into your cheek. âonly want you.â
1 NEW FACETIME AUDIO CALL : SATO đ€Ą
his phone has been buzzing for ages now. you sigh, crossing your arms & clearly annoyed. âtoji, just answer it. what if itâs an emergency?â
youâre right, he should answer it, because if anything happened to megumi, heâd fucking flip. he bites his lip, âone second, princess.â
he presses his phone to his ear, but megumiâs voice greets him instead.
âdaddy! uncle kunaâs trying to kill me because of blue gatorade!â
tojiâs eyes widen. from the corner of his eye, he can see you inching closer, brows furrowed in concentration as you try to listen in.
in the background of the call he can hear sato shrieking. âsuguruâ! use the spatula! use the spatula! sukuna stopââ
youâre blinking at him, inching closer to his bicep on the table. âdaddy? whoâs calling you daddy?â
tojiâs soul leaves his body.
âdaddy, are you coming home soon? uncle suguâs spanking him now. itâs very loudââ
he ends the call before you can hear any more.
âdo you have a son?â
tojiâs breathing stutters. youâve inched away from him now, lips bent in a frown, brows furrowed, expression curiousâor cautious, toji canât really tell. and it pains him to lie to you, but what else can he say when youâve already shifted your thigh off his lap?
ânah,â he answers too fast. âitâs my nephew.â
toji reaches out to thumb your cheek, but you donât relax into his palm. âthink he meant to call my brother, not me.â
he tugs your bottom lip as you speak. âi didnât know you had a brotherâŠâ
âthereâs a lot you donât know about me, princess,â he leans in to kiss the corner of your lips, because he knows he doesnât deserve any more than that. your pout deepens.
âwe can change that though,â he lies, smiling. âwanna get dessert?â
SATOâS REMARK : NICE SAVE, TOJI ! AND MY BADâHAHA !
BROKE BOY TACTICS #3: BLEACH !
taught by: geto suguru, toru gojo
âinviting her over already? weâve gotta scrub this place clean, then.â
ΣΧ
toji zenin has one hour to make it seem like megumi doesnât exist.
geto suguru is scrubbing the bathrooms. toru gojo has somehow been roped into this predicament and is scrubbing away in the kitchen. in the living room, toji zenin is picking up cheerios from the rug, phone in his ear with sukuna on the line.
âhi daddy,âmegumiâs voice is flat through the speaker. âuncle kunaâs being nice to me today.â
âthatâs great, kiddo. can you put him back on the phone?â
âyo,â sukunaâs voice crackles through.
âif anything happens to my son, i will spread your ass cheeks and sprinkle paprika in the hole.â
âoh.â
âyeah,â toji shifts the phone in his neck. âmake sure he has a good time at that amusement park. and donât let sato spoil him too much.â
âheyyy toji!â satoâs voice crackles through the speaker. toji sighs before grunting back a hello. âkeep megumi safe, got it?â
toji says his goodbyes. just as he clicks the end button, toru gojo pads into the living room, glasses tilting off his face & slipping rubber gloves off his hands. âall done in the kitchen. remind me why weâre deceiving this poor lady again?â
toji picks up a gummy worm tucked under the rug and cringes. âbecause she wouldnât look twice at a broke guy with a kid.â
toru softens, adjusting his glasses. âyou donât know that. have you tried telling her?â
âno.â
âwhy not?â
"because,â he picks up another gummy worm hidden under the couch, glaring at it before throwing it away. "because every time someone finds out about megumi, they look at me different. like i'm a burden. like he's a burden."
toru purses his lip. heâs watching as toji ducks under the couch, picking out stray bits of cereal and snacks and other things that make tojiâs nose scrunch up in disgust.
toru shakes his head, taking off his glasses to set them on the counter. âbut you donât know if sheâs like that.â
âi know i canât lose her before i even have her.â
toru purses his lip. tojiâs voice came out too tight.
â” SHOW TIME !
when toji opens his front door, youâre in a too-short dress and thereâs moĂ«t & chandon in your hands.
god, youâre gorgeous. and toji really needs to stop thinking that. needs to stop saying it in his head before he slips up and says it out loud with a tone he canât take back.
âhi,â you tilt your head, batting your lashes in that way that makes him stupid. âyou gonna keep standing there? or are you gonna take this bottle off my hands?â
ah, right. toji reaches for the bottle but you pull it back. he raises a brow.
âsay âplease pretty girl, may i have the wine?ââ
youâre still peering up at him, hugging the bottle of wine to your chest, teasing smile on your glossy lips. toji leans against the doorframe. arms crossed, dark eyes raking over your hips, plush thighs, pretty waist. fuck.
his lips twitch, âiâm not saying that.â
âaww,â you pout, glossy and spoiled. âguess i have to turn back home and drink this expensive wine all by myself.â you turn, and toji bites his cheek because your dress has ridden up to give him the perfect view of your ass. so soft. he canât wait to squeeze it.
âiâm gonna be so lonelyâŠâ your back is still turned to him, voice wistful. âand i came all the way over here, too. iâm so upset.â
toji doesnât let you take another step.
you squeal as he scoops you up with a grunt, arms snaking over your waist & under your thighs to lift you bridal style. you squeeze the bottle of wine in your arms, eyes shut tight as you giggle while he kicks the door shut. âtoji! put me down!â
careful what you wish for.
toji drops you to his couch with a thud. you land with a breathless laugh, dress bunched up to your hips & he can see the print of your panties. your hair is fanned out, and the bottle of wine is pressed to your stomach. youâre giggling, eyes bright, and god. you look so fucking gorgeous all laid out for him. tojiâs jaw ticks.
he climbs over you, pressing his warm body down until the wine digs into your stomach. his eyes are dark. hungry.
âplease, pretty girl,â he murmurs, breath hot, lips teasing your neck. âmay i have the wine?â
oh.
your breath hitches. you stare up at him, cheeks hot, eyes wide, thighs squeezing together in anticipation. but youâre a bad girl, so you donât give toji zenin what he wants just yet.
your smile falters, but you tilt your head. âthought you werenât gonna say it?â
he grins, pressing a hot kiss underneath your ear. âand i thought you were leavinâ.â
you let out a shaky gasp as toji licks a hot stripe up your neck. heâs filthyâbig hands gripping your hips to keep you pinned to the couch, squeezing you hard each time you moan and buck yourself into him. his breath is hot against your neck, sucking and kissing and teasing, the occasional nip when you whimper just the way he likes.
his weight presses the wine harder into your stomach. you gasp, âtoji, the wineââ
âhold it, baby.â
your eyes squeeze shut as his kisses trail further down your neck, tummy fluttering as heat pools between your thighs. his thumb on your hip sinks under the silk of your panties, and you whine his name before he shushes you with a sweet kiss to your cheek.
toji doesnât kiss you on the lips. the lips are too honest, and toji is not.
youâre still clutching the bottle, chest heaving as toji presses your hips deeper, deeperâ
âow!â
toji freezes.
in truth, toji zenin has never been a gentle man. his body is too big and his hands are too rough, and life itself has never treated him gently, nor given him much reason to be gentle towards others. but as toji hovers over you, limbs frozen in alarm, his stomach canât help but twist with disgust. said body and rough hands have crushed something soft yet again.
âdid i hurt you?â his voice comes out weird. âdollâlook at me. you okay?â
âiâm fine,â you wince, cheeks flushed as you try to steady your breathing. you twist your leg slightly, sliding your fingers down into the sofa cushion where something sharp poked at you. âsomething... something poked my leg.â
you pull out a tiny, red brick.
you blink. âa lego?â
for the second time this evening, toji freezes.
he takes it from your hand, flicking it away. he lifts your arms to wrap them around his neck, and lowers himself back to your chest. âthat what you stopped me for, princess?â he mutters coolly, like his heart isnât beating in his throat. âhad me so worried, baby.â
âtoji, why do you have a lego?â
he kisses your jaw, âmy nephewâs.â
ah, that makes sense. you hug his neck tighter, giggling as he slips the wine off your belly & onto the floor. he presses yet another kiss to your neck, warm & sweet, and you let your chin rest on his shoulder as he loves you with gentler hands.
but then you see it.
on the metal door of the kitchen fridge, past a jar of gummy worms and a poorly placed broom, a banana-shaped magnet is there.
and right under it, a scribbled drawing. the messy figure of a man with spiky hair, and a smaller, more spiky-haired boy.
DADDY AND ME.
your body goes still.
tojiâs hands are on your hips, thighs, waistâbut his touch suddenly itches. the warmth has gone cold.
âtoji,â you whisper. âwho drew that?â
toji doesn't move. his eyes slowly follow your gaze to the fridge, and the panic in his eyes is unmistakable. the lie slips out of his mouth before his brain can even catch up to it.
âsociology project,â he breathes. âdevelopmental regression. drew it with my left hand.â
âyour left handâŠâ
your voice trails off as toji sinks his lips back to your neck.
toji zenin does not study sociology.
TORUâS REMARK : YOU CANâT FOOL HER FOREVER.
BROKE BOY TACTICS #4: LEAN INTO THE LARP !
taught by: sato gojo
âyou canât pull up to a date in an uber. take my porscheâyouâre a rich guy now.â
ΣΧ
itâs late, and three floors down, toji zenin has his hands on his hips, staring at satoâs sleek black porsche in disbelief while his tie itches at his neck. three floors up, in tojiâs crappy apartment, the gangâs all there.
megumi has a blanket pulled up to his chin, seated on the couch next to suguru. sukuna is lounging on the floor with his back against said couch. sato is flipping through TV stations. the light in the room is dim, and sato snickers at something sukuna says before tossing him the remote.
âwhy does everyone always leave me?â
the trio freeze.
megumiâs expression is flat. heâs staring into the tvâs glow, but his eyes are soulless and empty. suguru hesitatesâbut then he rests a hand on megumiâs hair. âwhat do you mean, kiddo?â
âdaddyâs always leaving now,â megumi closes his eyes, rigid against the couch cushions. âhe never spends time with me anymore. heâs acting like my mommy did.â
the three boysâ hearts crack right down the middle.
theyâre staring at each other now, the weight of megumiâs words on their shoulders. how do they tell a little boy that the reason his father has been less presentâand is also not present tonightâis because heâs currently trying to hide his childâs existence to impress a woman? and that theyâre all helping him?
sato speaks first. too quick, too fast.
âheâs just been busy,â he croaks out. âheâs been picking up new shifts. heâs working really hard.â
âyeah,â sukuna agrees. âheâs working hard. to take care of you, meg.â
megumi stares into the tv screen. getoâs hand is still heavy on his head, and his body is limp and his eyes are heavy.
âi know.â megumi mutters. âheâs my hero.â
suguru bites his lip. âyou know what, meg? why donât we draw something? a new picture for your dad?â
megumiâs eyes flit to the kitchen fridge. DADDY AND ME. the picture is still there, but the paper is crinkled and damp now. as if someone threw it away with heavy eyes, then somehow thought better of it.
megumi nods, âyeah.â
âokay, buddy. iâll go get the crayons.â
âiâll get the paper!â
âand iâll⊠uh. you want a gatorade, kid?â
the three adults go after the various items. megumi takes one last look at his drawing on the fridge, and then he slips off the couch and pads away.
â” SHOW TIME !
toji zenin is a man who can only have pride when he pretends.
so today, he pretends the sleek black porsche parked outside your house is his. he pretends heâs not wearing satoâs luxury cologne, that his tie isnât secondhand, that the cuff of his suit isnât too tight on his wrist and that the guilt in his mouth doesnât taste like his blood.
heâs gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turn white.
when you open the car door, you look like a dream.
your lips are glossy, always glossy, but itâs a different shade of shimmer tonight. your hair is loose all over your shoulders, heels clicky, dress black and matching the shade of satoâs car. toji stares, jaw slack as you slide into the passengerâs seat. the words in his throat have turned into bile.
âHi.â you blink at him.
âHi.â
he canât say much else, and he really ought to but he canât, so instead he only watches as you huff and click your seatbelt in place. toji licks his lips, turns back to the wheel. says a quick prayer to a god he doesnât believe in. âyou look gorgeous.â
you donât respond.
the car starts with an expensive growl. it makes toji wince, and he hopes you donât notice. heâs practiced starting the car three times so he can pretend heâs used to it. he isnât, and heâll never be.
he pulls onto the streets, eyes frantically scanning the road as his pulse drums in his teeth.
âtoji?â you say, eyes trained ahead of you, voice flat.
âyeah, baby?â
âwhere are we going?â
tojiâs fingers drum on the steering wheel. he turns right at the fork. âsomewhere nice,â his voice is strained. âsomewhere you deserve to be.â
he lets his right hand shift to the center console, trying to bridge the gap. his hand is sweating, maybe. you glance at it. glance away.
you peer out the window, head against the edge, watching the lights blur through the glass. âi feel like iâm sitting in a museum,â you murmur, quiet. âeverything feels curated. including you.â
he swallows. âiâm trying to make tonight special.â
âspecialâŠâ you trail off, lashes fluttering as you stare out the window.
âi donât know who you are, zenin.â
tojiâs head aches. and so does his chest, violent and sharp and stabbing. heâs a liar, a con artist, a selfish man with rough hands and a son waiting at home. ohâmegumi. his phoneâs been buzzing in his pocket for a while now. howâs megumi?
âiâm just a guy,â he chooses to say. âa guy who likes you.â
âdo you? or is that just part of the exhibit?â
maybe there really is a god watching, because before toji can respond something makes a sound.
heâs not sure what, honestly, but heâs quick to capitalize on it. he needs the air. toji turns into an empty street to park. he unbuckles his seat belt, leans over a bit. âstay in the car, okay?â
you only nod, and tojiâs throat curls with guilt.
the night air is cool on his skin. he opens the car bonnetâcareful, as careful as a man like him can beâpretending to scan the engines for a possible source of the noise. he doesnât find anything wrong, and he knew he wouldnât, but he holds up the bonnet and pretends to check anyways.
three minutes pass before he returns to the car.
three minutes of toji zenin teaching himself how to breathe. the same way he does when megumi shuts down even though he thinks the steps are corny. having a kid really changes you, doesnât it?
megumi. he looks at his watch, 9PM. his boy should be in bed by now.
the buzzing from his phone has stopped. he should check it now, but youâre still waiting. still beautiful. still hurt.
so toji slams the hood shut. sucks in a breath and slides back into the driverâs seat. youâre staring at him as he buckles his seatbelt.
âtoji,â your voice is careful. âdo you have anything you want to tell me?â
yes. i work three jobs and iâm drowning in student loans. i got a girl pregnant when i was eighteen, and she left me when i turned twenty-one. i have a boy whoâs five-and-a-half and heâs the only good thing i have left. and iâm sorry i lied, but i didnât want you to leave me before i could love you and iâm sorry, and iâm sorry again, and you deserve better, and iâm sorry.
âno,â toji lies.
you purse your lips. âokay.â
the engine roars back to life. and toji is sweating, and the date feels over before itâs even started, and his pulse is too loud andâ
âdaddy?â
tojiâs blood runs cold.
in the backseat of satoâs porsche, megumi zenin is there, body tucked under a blanket and rubbing his eyes. he slips off the seat and stumbles towards the console, still rubbing at his face. âhi, daddy.â
toji zenin can only stay frozen as megumi wraps his smaller arms around his neck.
he tries to speak, fingers twitching as they hover over his sonâs back. âmegumiâhey, buddyâwhatâre you doing here?â
megumi buries his nose into his fatherâs neck. âi didnât want to be alone again.â
toji bites his lip. he can feel your eyes boring into him, and he nervously scrambles. âheyâyouâre never alone, buddy. where are your uncles? come here.â
he lifts megumi into his lap, avoiding your gaze.
âis this your son?â
tojiâs mouth dries.
he could say itâs his nephew, make up some lie about him referring to both him and his âbrotherâ as dad, but god. youâre already looking at him with something he doesnât have the vocabulary to name, and tojiâs jaw aches.
âyes,â he sucks in a breath. âthis is my son, megumi.â
he brushes megumiâs hair back, taking his little fist away from his face so he stops rubbing at his eyes. âmeg, say hi to the pretty lady.â
âhi, pretty lady.â
megumi waves a small hand, then collapses against his fatherâs stomach.
you force a smile and flick your eyes back up to toji.
âi think you should take me home.â
???âs REMARK : YOU CANâT LARP YOUR WAY INTO BEING LOVED !
BROKE BOY TACTICS #5: EMBRACE YOUR ECONOMICS !
taught by: nanami kento, megumi zenin.
âmaybe she doesnât hate you. maybe she hates that you thought so little of her you felt the need to live a lie.â
ΣΧ
itâs a new day, and toji zenin is laden with old burdens.
heâs slumped against his bedroom wall, phone pressed to his ear with megumi on his stretched out legs. megumi has a red & green colored hand in another jar full of gummy worms. toji makes a mental note to hide it better next time.
âyou didnât just lose the date,â nanamiâs voice cuts through the speaker, flat and professional as always. âyou insulted her intelligence. made her out to be a shallow woman whoâd only care about you if you had money in your bank account.â
toji stares at the ceiling. then at megumi, whoâs about to eat a gummy worm off the floor. he flicks it away. âshe looked at me like i was trash, nanami.â
âshe looked at you like you were a liar,â nanami corrects. âwhich you are.â
nanami sighs, breath sending a crackle through the speaker. all he wanted to do was spend his afternoon reading his new favorite BL, doukyuusei, but once again the shenanigans of his friends have interrupted his peace.
âtoji, youâre a smart man. and she sounds like a smart woman. i doubt sheâd lose interest because you have a sonâi believe she hates that you lied to her.â
megumi takes a worm and makes it crawl through tojiâs lips. itâs cold, but toji chews and swallows anyways. âi need to apologize.â
âyes,â toji can hear a page flip. âand quickly. i have to attend to other matters now, but say hi to megumi for me.â
the line goes dead, and toji drops his hand to the floor.
megumi chews a gummy worm. then he takes it out of his mouth, frowns at it, then eats it again. âdaddy, are you mad at me?â
toji frowns. âfor what?â
âi ruined your date,â megumi looks into the jar of worms, frowning, then back at his dad. âwith auntie.â
toji looks at his son. at his candy smeared cheeks, sticky hands, black spikes of hair and sugar in his teeth. megumi looks just like him. heâs always known it, but heâs growing to look more and more like his father every day.
âyou didnât ruin anything,â he murmurs, pulling his son into his chest. âyouâve never ruined anything in your life.â
he pats megumiâs hair, head thrown back. âiâm sorry, meg.â
five-year-old megumi zenin has already lost interest. heâs more focused on getting the red and blue gummy in the sea of yellow-green ones, small hand grabbing fistfuls of worms before dropping them back. he doesnât know his father is sorry, sorry for everything, for trying to erase his existence to impress a woman and for bringing him into this world knowing he will never be able to give him the future he deserves.
megumi retrieves the red and blue gummy worm. his favorite flavor. he blinks at it once, twice.
then he turns to his dad. lifts the gummy worm on his palm to his face.
toji zenin eats it right off.
â” SHOW TIME !
megumi zenin is in his best clothes: baby blue button-up from suguru. a white top with a red race car that sukuna had got him for his birthday. light up skechers from uncle sato. toji had tried to get him to wear normal shoes, but megumi shut that down quickly. he wanted to be seen.
you no longer frequent the local loblaws.
and it breaks tojiâs heart, actually. you havenât blocked him just yet, thank god, so toji thinks you might not yet hate him completely. that he might still have a chance.
call him a weirdo, but heâs been to almost every grocery store nearby.
no frills, sobeys, you name it. and now, at 12:30PM sunday, toji zenin is in his car with his son, watching you load groceries into the backseat with a pout on your lips. like youâre above this. like you need a big, strong man to offer his help. and tojiâs chest aches. because he could be that man, you know. if youâd let him.
toji slips out of the car. megumi hops out too.
he stops just a few feet behind you, watching you mutter curses as you haul a carton of juice. tojiâs lip twitches. then he pulls megumi along.
âlet me help.â
you blink as toji comes out of seemingly nowhere to save the day. he lifts everything out of your cart and into your car, never breaking a sweat. truthfully, your groceries arenât even that heavy. heâs not sure why you were struggling, but he thinks itâs so fucking cute.
he lets you click your remote to close the boot shut. then he turns to you: âi owe you an apology.â
you tilt your head. âdo you?â
he squeezes megumiâs hand in his own to ground himself. âi lied because i was scared,â he admits, and you never thought youâd hear toji and âscaredâ in the same sentence. âyouâre a pretty girl from a nice family who spends my rent money on groceries,â he breathes. âand i want you, bad. and i thought if you saw meâthe me who lived paycheck to paycheck and has nothing except this little brat,â he raises megumiâs hand, âyouâd leave before i even got a chance.â
he shifts his hand to megumiâs head. âitâs fucking stupid, i know. but this is my son,â he ruffles megumiâs hair. âsay hi, kid.â
âhi, auntie.â
your gaze shifts away from toji, and drops to the little boy beside him. megumi is apple cheeks, dark, messy hair and nervous feet shifting on the pavement. he looks like his dad, and the sight makes your heart melt.
âhi, baby boy.â you crouch down to his height. âi love your shirt. do you wanna come here?â
megumi nods. he abandons his fatherâs side to let you scoop him up in your arms.
toji frowns.
megumiâs a shy kid. or not shyâawkward. he canât make eye contact with kids his age, his tone is too flat, and his eyes are always bored. he doesnât like to be touched by people he isnât familiar with, and heâs very quick to say no to what he doesnât like or want. so toji can only watch, brows knit in confusion, as megumiâs fist curls over your necklace and he lets you press a kiss to his cheek.
âhi, auntie,â megumi collapses into your shoulder, fist still gripping your necklace. âi did a very good job.â
âso good, baby,â you kiss his hair, grinning. âiâm gonna buy you all the gummies in the world.â
megumi blushes from the affection. he shifts his head over your shoulder so all you can see is his pink chubby cheek.
âwhat the hell is happening?â
âdaddyâs a big dummy,â megumi mutters into your shoulder. âthe biggest,â you agree.
tojiâs frown deepens, and you laugh. âiâve already met megumi, silly.â
toji blinks. heâs about to ask how, but you beat him to it: âremember when you got out of the car? megumi woke up in the backseat,â you kiss his ear softly, and megumiâs blush deepens. âwe had a long chat about you, toji. and i asked him to pretend weâve never met, and go back to sleep in the car.â
you watch megumi, fond. his fingers curling deeper into your necklace, his eyes shy and staring behind you. âi canât believe youâve been keeping this little angel from me. youâre a monster, toji.â
âdummy monsterâŠâ megumi mutters. you kiss his cheek again and he hides.
toji thinks about it. to megumi referring to you as auntie back in the apartment. fuck. he didnât think too much of it, but perhaps he shouldâve.
âso? you two were testing me, or some shit?â
you shift a hand from megumiâs back to your hip. âno attitude, mister. iâm still mad at you,â your frown, and then your shoulders drop. âdid you really think you had to fake having money to impress me? picking me up in a porsche when iâve already seen your crappy apartment?â
you stroke megumiâs hair. âand lying about meg,â your expression goes soft, sad. âhave you apologized to him?â
âyeah,â megumi tugs your necklace. âhe told me sorry.â
you smile at him, then kiss his little fist. âthatâs great, baby. you deserve an apology. and iâm sorry as well, for taking away your time with your father.â
megumi pats your face, voice flat. âi forgive you.â
you giggle, pinching his cheek, and toji can only stare in disbelief.
megumiâs cheeks are pink from your kisses, little fingers curled tight around your necklace while you sway him absentmindedly against your chest. his light-up skechers blink every time his feet kick against your thighs. youâre smiling at him like heâs heaven as a boy, and megumiâquiet, awkward, megumiâis hiding his face in your shoulder because heâs shy.
how greedy.
how greedy of toji zenin to pick out cheerios from between couch cushions like trying to erase evidence of a crime scene. how greedy of him to scrub crayon off his walls, peel gummies off his floors and hide away his son with other people he canât truly call family. how greedy of him to rip his sonâs drawing off the fridge, only to put it back again later because he canât even be greedy right.
how greedy of toji zenin to hide the only good thing in his life away; all because he wanted yet another good thing: you.
he wanted your pretty laugh in his apartment. wanted your heels by the front door, wanted your perfume in his sheets and your voice mixed with megumiâs cartoons on saturday mornings. toji zenin wanted everything.
now his everything was shoving his chubby hand in the face of his other everything to keep from getting attacked by kisses. but he was smiling. megumi zenin was smiling, and blushing, and laughingâand toji thinks about how he hasnât seen megumi this childish in a while.
his heart aches.
âiâm sorry.â
sorry for what? he knows what heâs sorry for, but the words have failed him again, so he can only watch. watch as you tilt your head the way you always do, before megumi glances at you and tilts his head back at him the same way. oh god.
ââgumi, do we forgive daddy?â
âyeah,â megumiâs feet kick. his shoes light up, red and blue. âif he stops hiding my gummies.â
toji wonât hide his gummies anymore. hell, heâll never hide anything again in his life.
and maybe megumi senses the guilt on his fatherâs shoulders, because he squirms his tiny body for you to set him down and dashes so hard into his fatherâs legs that he knocks his forehead against his knee. âowâŠâ
toji snorts, crouching. âwhat are you doing, kid.â but heâs scooping megumi into his arms anyways. you pad closer, grin cheeky, and poke megumi on his side.
âhow about we go shop for some gummy worms?â
BONUS â Y/N AND MEGâS FIRST MEET !
âwho are you?â
the voice makes you jolt. youâre staring at your hands in the passengerâs seat of tojiâs rentedâno, probably borrowedâporsche, blinking away tears in your eyes when a tiny voice speaks behind you.
you whip your head around so fast your neck aches.
and standing there is a little boy, tiny, maybe four or five, rubbing away sleep from his eyes. his hair comes in tufts of black, and his eyes are blue, and oh my god he looks just like his father.
toji.
megumi is rubbing his eyes harder now. your heart melts.
âhi, baby,â you coo, patting away your own tears on your lashes. âiâm friends with your daddy. whatâs your name?â
âiâm megumi,â he sniffles, yawns. âmy friends call me meg. but i donât have any friends.â
oh. âhi, meg. whatâre you doing here? did your dad leave you home alone?â
you hope he says no, because you know tojiâs been hiding somethingâsomeone from you, but he wouldnât go that far. at least, you hope he wouldnât.
âno, my uncles are at home,â he says sleepily. and you hover your hands over his face in silent permission. he blinks at your hands, sniffles again, before nodding to let you brush his hair back from his face. âi wanted to see daddy. he left for work.â
work? no he didnât. toji zenin is outside, lifting the bonnet of a car he knows is too good to call his. âdid he tell you he was going to work, meg?â
âno, but i know he is. he works for us. he wears the tie and he goes away.â
âoh, babyâŠâ
toji zenin is a liar. a liar with a handsome face, and warm touch, and words that make your head dizzy. and you should be mad, really. you are, but the sight of this little boy with a face like his fatherâs only makes your heart ache.
you want to ask questions: who are your uncles? where were you when i came over? is your mother still in the picture?
but megumi zenin is blinking sleepily as you caress his cheek, leaning into your touch with a sigh.
âmegumi, do you wanna make a deal?â
âwhat kind of deal?â megumi tries to rub his eyes, but you ease his fist away.
âa super simple one. your daddyâs been acting really strange, right? to you and me,â you pat his cheek. âall you have to do is act like weâve never met, and iâll give you anything you want.â
megumi thinks very hard. then he asks, âare you the lady daddy wants to impress?â
you blink. âwhat do you mean?â
âi heard him on the phone with uncle sugu,â megumi rests his head against your leather car seat. âhe said he likes a nice lady. said he wants to be a better man for her.â he rubs his eye. âthen he started leaving me. whereâs daddy? i wanna talk to daddy.â
âoh, meg,â your heart breaks. âcome here, baby.â
megumi hesitates, but then he lets you pull him into a hug. his hands are limp by his sides, but he pats your back once before his tiny hand slips away. âauntie, why are you crying?â
your shoulders shake over him. you sniffle, âdonât worry about it, meg. and your daddyâs gonna come back soon, okay? and he wonât leave you alone anymore. iâll make sure of it.â
megumi pulls back. âyou promise?â
you cup his cheeks. âi promise. go back to sleep, okay?â
EPILOGUE !
on the couch of tojiâs crappy apartment, megumi zenin is curled into his fatherâs side, gummy worms in his mouth as he presses his sticky hands to the screen of his brand new ipad pro. a shiny gift from his loving uncle sato, who bought him the device despite suguru and tojiâs wishes.
megumi offers his father a gummy worm. âwhen is auntie coming?â
toji eats it off his palm. âsoon, kid,â he clicks his tongue. âswear you like her more than me now.â
megumi picks out five gummy worms from the jar, then lines them up on his ipad screen for convenience. ânah, i like daddy the most.â
toji softens.
all toji can see right now is the top of his little boyâs head, his tiny nose poking out and his chubby little cheeks. the ipad screen is sticky and candy smearedâmuch like megumiâs handsâand on the screen is a video of a teacup in a ballet dressâballerina cappucina?âgetting married to a little espresso man wearing a ninja bandana. toji frowns. the video gives him flashbacks to his days of working as skai jacksonâs personal AI prompt writer. he shivers.
toji shakes his head. âmeg, you know iâm never leaving, right?â
âi know,â megumi groans. âyou told me a billion times yesterday!â
âquit whining,â toji murmurs, pulling his son into his lap. megumi reaches for his jar of gummy worms, and toji tugs it closer. âjust wanted to remind you.â he mumbles.
megumi slumps against his fatherâs chest. soft, distracted, satisfied. âyou donât need to say sorry anymore. i forgive you.â
toji kisses his hair, burying his face in the dark strands. he sighs, âthanks, kiddo.â
âââ
when the doorbell rings, toji zenin is already half-asleep.
the soundâand megumiâs accidental jab of his elbow against his stomachâwakes him right up. toji smooths his hair, rubs the sleep from his eyes. then he turns to tell megumi to go wash his sticky hands, then decides not to.
he sucks in a breath and opens the door.
âhi, pretty.â
âmove. iâm not here for you.â
you shove at his chest and push your way into the apartment, and on the couch to the right megumi zenin is there, ipad in hands and cheeks sticky and looking up at you with big, blue eyes.
âauntie?â
âoh, my baby!â
you scoop him off the couch and into your arms, and megumi clutches your shoulders tight as you attack him with kisses on his forehead, cheeks, everywhere. tojiâs eye twitches in disbelief. âare we serious?â
âoh, youâre still here,â you glance over at him, bored. âmeg and i are gonna make cookies today. mind being a doll and fetching the ingredients from the car?â you toss him your car keys.
toji looks at the keys in his hands. then you, who is cooing silly things that make megumi blush and bury his head in your neck.
toji pads over to you, slow. âi wanted to see you.â
you ignore his hands snaking around your hips. you turn your nose up at him, âand now, you have.â
âyou still mad at me?â
of course youâre still mad. maybe not as mad as you were a week ago, but still upset. that he lied. that he thought so little of you that he went out of his way to sculpt a whole other life and hide away the little angel in your arms. but tojiâs hands are still heavy on your hips. his voice is warm in your ear. and he apologized, you know. in the parking lot that day. at your house on monday, holding a bouquet of half-dead flowers and wearing a rented suit that went to waste because you refused to go out with him anyway. he sent you an hour long voicemail apologizing. you listened to it all on the way here.
toji zenin is such a sap.
he acts like he isnât, though. but he is, and you feel it in how he presses his lips to your neck, over and over and over again. iâm sorry iâm sorry iâm sorry.
megumi shoves his fatherâs lips away. âdaddy stop.â
you laugh, nuzzling megumiâs cheek. âheâs such a dummy, isnât he meg? do you think i should forgive him?â
âyeah,â megumi mutters, collapsing into your neck. âhe said sorry a billion times to me yesterday. daddyâs really sorry for everything.â
âaww. daddyâs so cute when heâs sorry, isnât he?â
toji is glaring at you. you can only giggle and press a kiss to his jaw, and his eyes widen a bit in surprise. you cup his jaw and press another one to his cheek. just one more, because youâd be lying if you said you hadnât missed him as well.
âi forgive you, mister. now go get those groceriesâshoo!â
toji nuzzles your neck before leaving the apartment.
megumi is still on your hip, clutching your shoulders for balance as you pick out pans and trays from the cupboard. he grips your hair in a tiny fist. âauntie?â
âhm, gummy?â
megumi hides in your neckâshy, nervous. âare you gonna be my new mommy?â
you freeze.
megumi clutches you tighter. his face is buried in your throat, and heâs gripping so tightly his little nails bite into your skin, but you soften. toji had already confessed everything in his voicemail. his mom isnât in the picture anymore. how a mother can let go of a little angel like meg, you donât know, but who are you to judge and conclude?
âi donât know, meg, itâs too soon,â you hum softly, setting a pan on the tabletop. âbut i know iâll be here, baby. for you.â
âwill you be at my school, too?â he peers up at you, big eyes glimmering with hope. âall the other kids have mommies except for me.â
âoh, megumiâof course iâll be there!â
itâs taking everything in you not to carry this boy and run! you attack his face with kisses, and megumi squirms in your arms but heâs giggling. his hands are sticky on your face, neck, everywhere, but you kiss him over and over again, because youâve only known him for a little over a week but youâre already ready to give him the world. âauntie, stop!â but heâs laughing. âthereâs lip gloss all over me!â
when toji walks in, he canât believe his eyes.
there are too many shopping bags in his hands, because everything about you is too much, even down to your shopping, and toji is staring in disbelief. the woman of his dreams in his kitchen, holding his son, and his son is laughing. laughing the way he used to before his mother left him two years ago.
and he doesnât really deserve the warmth curling in his chest, or the strange feeling coursing through his veins, but who is toji zenin if not greedy?
so he drops the bags to his feet (gently, because youâd curse him if the eggs broke), and pads over to the kitchen where youâre showering megumi with affection, and he snakes his arms around your waist and drops his head into your neck. you turn, grinning, and you donât push him away when he presses a quick kiss to your lips. the lips are honest, and now toji is too.
âaww, look at you getting all sappy.â
âauntie made my face all sticky..â
toji squeezes you both tight. a little greed never killed a man.
MEGUMIâS REMARK : CAN I HAVE SOME GUMMY WORMSâŠ?
you think you missed out on having a secret admirer but drunk gojoâs about to expose them
The bar was too loud, too sticky, and far too full of couples. You swirl the straw in your margarita, watching the condensation drip onto the wood.
Across from you, Shoko and Geto are practically sharing a chair, whispering something that makes the brunette woman giggle. It's almost nauseating how sweet they are.
You'd met most of this group in high school, became a tight knit bunch all the way through university with memories everyone dreams of having in their youth. Sneaking out of windows, going to parties you definitely shouldn't be at, running from the cops because someone thought stripping and bolting through the park at night was a good dare, road trips and summer vacations that were captured on camera and now stay on the fridges of the homes you all used to talk about owning during late nights on the rooftop of Gojo's family home.
People envy friendships like yours. The kind where everyone fits together like pieces of a puzzle, where each person is just as important as anyone else and has their own purposes. Where you could just go over to each other's houses unannounced or kick back in a restaurant or bar that the staff recognize you as regulars at.
Over the years, you've all had the privilege of watching each other grow, sometimes stumble but you made sure to go back and help them up. Everyone's invited to family weddings and get together because you might as well be blood now. You've seen Gojo's really bad haircut, Geto down in the dumps when he was spiraling, Nanami's emo phase, Shoko's energy drink addiction that nearly put her in hospital, Utahime's hatred for Gojo grow into something horrifyingly soft, Toji be accepted into the group after beefing with Geto and Gojo all throughout high school and even help Sukuna babysit his nephew Yuji who's the group's honorary child now.
No one is left behind.
Except right now, you feel like you're in another galaxy while your friends orbit around each other. It's 11:30 PM on a Friday, the witching hour where the groupâs conversation transitions from mundane work complaints to the kind of messy, unvarnished honesty that only comes after three rounds of double gins.
Leaning back in the vinyl booth, your head thumps lightly against the wall as your gaze sweeps over your friends. To your left, Gojo and Utahime are whispering about a weekend trip, across from you, Shoko is absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of her boyfriendâs hand as he banters with Toji about who won the last round of pool. Mayumi is tucked under Toji's arm and you honestly don't know how he bagged her but you're happy for him.
You're happy for all of them, truly. Surprise engagement photos are flashing in your mind, wedding bells are ringing in your head, the crying of a baby scattered in there too along with everything else that comes with healthy, content couples like your friends are.
Though it's just a reminder of how lonely you are. Sure, you have a great career, a lively social life and a stellar support system. You never gave relationships much of a thought. Not when your friends were there to fulfill all your affection needs and the occasional fling or not-so-boyfriend to tend to your sexual cravings.
But now that they're all finding their person, you're all the more aware of how cold and vacant the spot next to you is even in this cramped booth.
Your friends would call you cute all the time. Mostly the guys, as they pinch your cheeks and coo. You wanted to be pretty, hot, maybe even sexy but no, you were stuck in the adorable category. Then you get your girl friends who are in your story replies saying they'd do anything to fuck you and other debauchery which you appreciate but they're definitely just flattering you.
All that nonsense about guys being too scared to approach you because you're âsoooooo beautifulâ was a whole lot of nonsense. Men have audacity so that would never stop them. And now most just wanted sex or a girlfriend without actually committing. It absolutely sucked.
With alcohol sloshing in your belly and a heavy feeling in your chest, you push out your bottom lip, eyes bowing at how lovey dovey the couples around you are.
âWhat makes you think no one did?â Geto asks, pressing a kiss to the back of Shoko's hand as he gives you a sly, low-lidded stare.
His girlfriend not so subtly elbows him in the side and his demeanor loosens, a serpent-like curl still playing on his lips as he relents.
Okay, that was weird. Something is definitely up.
Scoffing, you flick your wrist at him. âOh, please. I'd know if someone liked me back then. I'm sure of it.â
An impolite snort comes from your far left where Toji lifts his bottle to take a swig, mossy green eyes finding yours through his dark fringe. âIs that right?â
Brows knitting, you glance around the table at how everyone is secretly amused by something you're clearly out of the loop about. The women are averting their gazes and looking down to hide their guilty smiles while the men are snickering and nudging each other.
âYeah, it is right,â you double down, taking too big of a sip of your cocktail, face twisting in a grimace as you get a mouthful of liquor rather than sweetness.
âIâm going to die alone,â you announce, loud enough to cut through the chatter. âTwenty-five years on this earth, and Iâve never even had a proper confession. Not one. Iâm clearly defective.â
âYou're just picky, hon,â Nanami says, not looking up from Suki's hair that he's playing with. The lovely baker he met at his favorite shop to get bread.
âIâm not picky! Iâm unwanted,â you retort. You pointedly ignore Sukuna, who's sitting at the far end of the booth, scrolling through his phone with a look of profound boredom.
He hadnât said two words to you all night, which is an improvement from his usual habit of telling you that you breathed too loud. While he's in the same boat as youâyou think, you don't really poke your nose in his personal lifeâhe's not as bothered by all the love in the air as you are.
âI am the human equivalent of a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. No one has ever had a crush on me. No one has ever confessed. Iâm just... unappealing. Iâm going to be the eccentric aunt who dies in a house full of vintage typewriters and resentment.â
Sukuna snorts, his eyes fixed on his phone playing muted sports. âMaybe if you stopped narrating your life like a Victorian tragedy, people could stand to be in the same room as you.â
You didn't even spare him a glance. âDo you hear a buzzing noise? Itâs like an annoying gnat is trying to speak.â
The table goes quiet for a second, a familiar tension settling in. It had been like this since junior year of high school. You remember the libraryâyou'd tried to be nice, offering him a Gatorade and some Advil because he looked like death warmed over, and heâd told you to *'shut the fuck up'* in front of everyone.
And just like that the secret, agonizing crush you'd been harboring since freshman year had died a violent death right then and there, the teeth-aching sweetness curdling into something bitter and sour.
Suddenly, Gojoâwho is about four beers deep and vibrating with chaotic energyâlet out a sharp, wet giggle. Pushing his sunglasses up clumsily into his silvery tufts of hair, glossy sapphire eyes meet yours, sparkling with mirth.
âYouâre so full of it, sweetheart,â Gojo grins, leaning over the table. âYouâre not invisible. Someoneâs had their eye on you literally forever. Itâs like... a group-wide open secret.â
That has you pausing, slowly drawing your drink away from your glossy lips. âWhat? Who?â
A loaded quietness blankets the booth as your friends engage in a game of eye tag. Many of them try to catch Gojo's eyes to tell him to abort this mission but they're glued to you.
Sukuna on the other hand, is still on his phone but his grip tightens ever so slightly.
âCome on, you can't be that densâOuch! Why did you kick me, babe?â The utensils and glasses rattle when Gojo's knee hits the underside of the table and Utahime gives him a pointed look she uses on her students.
You would have shut right up if you were on the receiving end of that but Gojo just kisses his teeth, turning back to you with a crooked grin and droopy eyes. He's so drunk.
âSatoru, shut it,â Geto warns, but he is grinning. He's just saying that so Shoko doesn't chew him out for not trying to stop his best friend later.
âNo, no, she thinks sheâs unlovable! Itâs tragic!â Gojo croons, facing you with an exaggerated pout, his eyes bright with drunken mischief. âTrust me, sweetheart. We all know someone who wanted you badly since high school and you could've lived the teenage dream if he just manned up and confessed.â
That has you perking up, the boredom that was settling in your bones seeping out with your next exhale. âReally? Who?â
Gojo cackles now. âWho's the one person who treats you like a pest because they've got the emotional range of a teaspoon?â
Eyes narrowing, you don't have to think hard about it as your brows climb high and Gojo nods in confirmation, jerking his head towards the man in question.
âHey, remember tenth grade? When you had that growth spurt over the summer and your school skirts got like, three inches shorter? Ryomen spent an entire semester grumbling about how 'distracting' you were. He told me you were 'infuriatingly cute' at least once a week. He almost lost his mind.â
The sound of Sukuna's phone hitting the table is deafening. âWhat the fuck, Satoru? Stop talking.â
âHell no, Iâm on a roll!â Gojo hollers, dodging the pink-haired man's reach as his tanned, tatted arm reaches out to silence the traitor. âHe was sporting a hard-on all the fucking time whenever you were around. It was embarrassing.â
You blink, your mind flashing back to high school. You'd spent those years avoiding him like he was a biohazard because your heart would do a pathetic little flip every time he walked by. Then had come the library incident and you'd disliked him ever since. The asshole made it easy when he got all big and scary with those beefy muscles and intricate tattoos that you definitely don't like.
âHe's drunk,â Sukuna grunts, his voice low and dangerous, a red flush creeping up his neck. âHeâs spouting bullshit.â
âAm I?â Gojo challenges, leaning over the table. âWhat about uni? Every time I told you I was going to visit her across campus, you were suddenly 'bored' and wanted to tag along. You hate road trips but you were coming if she was too. And the partiesâyouâd complain for hours about how much you hate crowds, but the second you heard she was going, you were in the car. Oh, and the snacks! Who do you think buys the salt-and-vinegar chips for every hangout? We all hate them. But youâre picky, and he makes sure theyâre there.â
âAlso that time you were all heartbroken over that Naoya prickâI did warn you about him but I digressâand you texted Choso to come feed your cat because you were all sad and miserable?â You straighten at that. âYeah, you messaged the wrong Itadori. Sukuna was the one who came.â
That memory is vivid in your head. You'd been cooped up in your bedroom, not wanting to see anyone or go anywhere after you let that disgusting pig date you only to find out it was a bet. Choso was the friend who wouldn't ask questions or try to get you out of your dorm so you asked him.
In hindsight, you didn't actually check who came in, just heard the sound of boots and your cat meowing before a hand with black nail polish set down your favorite takeout on the nightstand then left.
Sukuna's vibrating with tension now, his knuckles white around his glass. âI don'tâI'm not doing this. Why would I like someone who clearly thinks Iâm a prick? She hasn't said a nice word to me sinceâhell, I don't even know when.â
âMaybe because youâre a dick to her!â Gojo shouts, laughing. âGod, youâre so mad because you have absolutely zero game. Negative game. Youâre playing at a deficit, man.â
âI have plenty of game,â Sukuna snaps, his ego finally getting poked hard enough to bruise, inked face drawn into a scowl.
âDoubt it,â Gojo snorts, trying to steal a sip of his girlfriend's drink but she dodges. He's clearly had enough. âIâve seen you try to flirt. Itâs like watching a car crash. Honestly, I'm a better kisser than you and Iâve got a mouth full of braces-trauma.â
Sukuna lets out a dry, harsh laugh. âYou wish, you absolute lightweight.â
The table is watching them go back and forth like a tennis match.
âAre you guys messing with me?â you question, voice a little high with the laughter you're trying to contain. It's hilarious watching Gojo provoke the other man who's evidently mortified under all that irritation.
âNo,â Shoko blurts. âMan's had it bad for you. Probably still does.â
You huff, slumping back in your seat. âNo fucking way.â
âThey're lying. You know how they like to talk shit.â Sukuna gestures to Gojo, Shoko and Geto like they're some troublesome trio. âRight, Toji?â
âDon't get me involved, man,â the other man chuckles.
Gojo points and laughs. âHah! You're still denying it. You have no game and you're probably a bad kisser too.â
Sukuna's tattoos crinkle as he scrunches his face. âHow do those two things even correlate? I'd kiss you right now if you didn't have a girlfriend to hide behind.â
âOh!â Utahime chokes on a startled laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and eyes twinkling like she wouldn't be opposed to that.
A strange, electric heat rises in your chest. The resentment, the years of bickering, the libraryâit all felt like it's condensing into a single point of pressure.
âProve it,â you dare him.
The arguing stops instantly. Sukuna turns his head slowly to look at you. The flush is still there, spreading across his chest that's exposed by his two buttons being undone, but his crimson eyes are dark and focused. âWhat?â
âYou heard me,â you say, your voice steadier than you feel. Leaning forward, you cross your arms on the sticky table. âProve Satoru wrong. Or are you just all talk?â
Scarlet eyes sear into yours for a few beats. The ambient noise of the barâthe jukebox playing a nineties rock song, the clink of glassesâsway into open water. He stands up, rounding the booth like a shark and grips the edge of the table next to you.
âMove, Cho,â he commands Choso, who has been minding his own business next to Yuki but he raises his hands with a sigh and stands up.
Something woodsy and masculine washes over you as he slides into the seat next to you. You don't have time to appreciate it as hooks a big hand behind your neck, his thumb resting just under your jawline. Ducking his head, his face is inches from yours, and for a second, you think he's going to chicken out.
Then he kisses you.
It isn't a chaste kiss. It isn't soft or tentative. It's deep, confident, and tastes like gin and something candied. His lips are as soft as petals, puckering and relaxing against yours in sweet pulls as his tongue swipes over yours, coating it in a minty, mellow taste.
Smothering you, he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, making you melt in his massive arms. A gravelly groan rumbles in his chest when you lick across his teeth and suck on his tongue slow and sloppy.
His hand tightens slightly in your hair, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating off him. Under the table, his knee presses into your thigh.
When he breaks away with a string of saliva stretching between you, he stays there, breaths shallow as he glares at you down the line of his strong nose.
âDid I prove him wrong?â he rasps, his eyes searching yours as he withdraws like he didn't just leave you drunk on him.
Swallowing, you take in his messy hair, his annoyed expression, and the way he's still holding you crushed to his body, all your softness molding to his firmness.
âEh, not the best I've had,â you reply with a half-shrug as you untangle yourself from him as if the ghost of the kiss isn't burning on your lips. As if your stomach doesn't swoop and your panties aren't wet.
âGod, you're so fucking annoying. This is why no one's confessed to you,â he clicks his tongue, drawing back as well and taking a swig of Choso's drink.
His irises are wine red now as you wipe the cherry flavored gloss he smeared on your chin off with your thumb, the sheen of it inspiring thoughts of you having something else glistening and sticky on your mouth.
âYou know,â you start, a small, cunning smile touching your kiss-bitten lips, âI wouldâve worn those shorter skirts for you back in high school and college if you hadn't been such an insufferable dick the whole time.â
Sukuna groans, closing his eyes. âFuck, I was an idiot. Shut up.â
Whoops ring out around the booth, glasses clinking and cheers yelled so loud you'd think your group is celebrating a big win. You even catch Nanami sneaking Choso a few bills.
âWait, you guys bet on this?â
âObviously!â
âAnd I bet a hundred bucks that he still has a big fat crush on you, maybe even likes you,â Shoko hums teasingly, brows wiggling at you.
âOh, please. It was just a stupid dareââ
Sukuna pulls out his wallet and slaps some cash on the table which Shoko snickers and accepts like it's her winnings at a roulette in a casino while you gape at him.
âWhy would youââ
A hooded, knowing yet lazy look is cast your way at the corner of his eye. âYou know why. I like you, woman. A lot.â
You're the reason he keeps epipens on hand because he knows you're allergic to raw fruits but still likes to flirt with death by eating them. He's always got a spare hoodie or jacket in his car since you tend to forget yours. There's a collection of mangas he bought in high school that are no longer in print that he's saved for you because he knows you loved the series growing up from how you'd borrow them from the library. He threw out his old colognes once when you mentioned how the strong masculine ones hurt your nose. When Naoya came to apologise to you all battered and bruised, it was his busted knuckles that did that. He's always been smart but when he found out you were struggling in calculus, he studied harder and topped the class then made exam practice papers and urged Shook to give them to you without telling you who it's from. He quit smoking when he found out you hated it.
So yeah, if that handful of instances isn't proof enough that the terrifyingly built, imposing man with coral hair has feelings for you then your friends don't know what will.
older neighbor sukuna never entertains your flirting but he also doesn't tell you to stop | 18+
The shrill, insistent shriek of the smoke alarm sliced through the hazy euphoria of your apartment, shattering the high youâd been building for the last twenty minutes.
You bolted upright on the sofa, heart hammering against your ribs as the smell of scorched sugar and carbonized dough flooded your senses.
Icy panic replaced your pleasure.
âShit!â you hissed, scrambling to find your discarded panties in the tangle of blankets. You didnât have time. You grabbed a silk robe, cinching it haphazardly over your flushed, naked skin as you sprinted toward the kitchen.
Thick, grey plumes were billowing from the oven seams. You yanked the door open, coughing as a cloud of smoke hit you, revealing a tray of what used to be chocolate chip cookiesânow nothing but blackened, smoldering hockey pucks.
You were frantic, waving a dish towel at the ceiling-mounted alarm, when the heavy, authoritative pounding started at your door.
âLet me in! I know youâre in there!â a deep, gravelly voice barked.
Your blood ran cold. It was Sukuna. Your neighbor from next door. Youâve been chirping "Good morning, sir!" at him for months, usually receiving nothing but a grunt or a terrifying glare in return.
He was thirty-five, a towering, reclusive man with an undercut of shocking pink hair with streaks of silver in it, crows feet under his scarlet eyes and intricate, dark tattoos that snaked up his face and disappeared beneath his shirt, braceleting his wrists. He looked like a yakuza who had decided to retire to a quiet Tokyo suburb, and he terrified and fascinated you in equal measure.
When you pulled the door open, squinting through the haze, he didn't wait for an invitation. He barged in, his massive frame instantly dwarfing your entryway. He was in a black tank top and grey sweats, his brawny shoulders dusted with the faint scent of cedar and expensive tobacco, a five o'clock shadow of a stubble on his jaw.
"Where is it?" he demanded, carmine eyes scanning the room with predatory intensity. He spotted the smoking oven and strode over, yanking the tray out and dousing the embers in the sink with a hiss of steam.
He turned back to you, his face set in a hard, judgmental scowl. "Are you trying to burn the whole building down, kid? Do you have any idea how fast high-rises go up?"
"IâI'm so sorry," you stammered, clutching the lapels of your robe. Your face was aflame, a mix of genuine shame and the lingering heat of your interrupted self care session. "I just... I got distracted."
He stepped closer, looming over you. His presence was oppressive, masculine, and entirely too much. "Distracted? By what? Itâs a timer, not a suggestion. What could have possiblyââ
Pausing, his sharp gaze raked over your disheveled hair, your swollen lips, and the way your chest was heaving. His nostrils flared, catching the scent of something that wasn't smokeâthe unmistakable, muskier tang of sex.
The silence stretched, agonizingly heavy. His crimson eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed into a look of sheer, exasperated disbelief.
"You've got to be kidding me," he exhaled, a low, guttural sound. "You were doing that while the oven was on?"
You looked at your feet, mortified, wanting the floor to swallow you whole. "Um, yeah. I'm sorry for worrying you, sir."
Clicking his tongue, he let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Don't do it again. Not when you've got an appliance running. I'm not pulling your charred corpse out of a fire because you couldn't wait ten minutes to rub one out. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you for checking," you whispered, offering a small, sheepish smile.
That "sir" made his jaw tight. Heâd told himself it was just a sign of your respectable upbringingâyou were the neighborhood sweetheart, always bowing, always offering to carry groceries for the elderly, always radiant.
But every time that syllable left your lips, it felt like a silken leash around his throat, his cock shamefully kicking. He reached out, his large, calloused hand ruffling your hair with a roughness that bordered on a caress.
"Stupid kid," he muttered, before turning on his heel and leaving.
In the weeks that followed, the dynamic shifted. You stopped being just the polite neighbor and started becoming a deliberate provocateur. Youâd "accidentally" be checking the mail when he went for his morning runs, watching the way his muscle tee clung to the sweat-slicked expanse of his back.
You began hitting on him with a boldness that surprised even you, and to your delight, he didn't shut it down. He grumbled, he called you "kid" to remind you of your age gap, but he never looked away or scolded you to stop.
When he finally mentioned he was setting up a home office and needed a second pair of hands to steady the furniture, you saw your opening.
You showed up at his door in a white crop top so thin it left nothing to the imagination, your nipples prodding at the fabric in the cool air of the hallway. Your denim miniskirt was a scandal, barely covering the curve of your hips.
"You're late," he grunted, though his eyes immediately dropped to your tits, then trailed down your bare legs. He was wearing a muscle shirt that showed off the heavy outline of ink on his pectorals.
The work was a slow torture of proximity. You helped him move a massive mahogany desk, watching the way the veins in his forearms jumped and his biceps bugled as he hoisted the weight. You stood nearby, intentionally leaning over so he could see the lack of a bra, while he focusedâor tried toâon the assembly.
The sheer masculinity of it all made you disgustingly wet; you felt the sudden, hot gush of arousal between your legs, a familiar, heavy ache swirling in your stomach.
"Can you put these frames up for me?" he asked, pointing to a set of shelves. "I'll hold the ladder."
You climbed up, the hem of your skirt riding up until it was practically a belt. He stood at the base, his hands firmly on the rails, but his head was at the perfect height to see exactly what you wanted him to see: the thin lace of your pink panties, already darkening at the gusset.
Balanced on the ladder, you realized the view from several feet up is much better than the one on the floorâspecifically the way Sukuna stood below, hands hovering near your hips as a "safety measure." He was being chivalrous, staring at the walls with intense focus just to avoid looking at your ass.
The fall was easy to stage. You tipped backward, hands slipping off the rungs with a squeak. You don't fall gracefully and he cusses, you hit him with enough force to slam his back into the wall with a heavy thud.
"Geez, you've got to be more careful," he wheezed, panting, his grip tightening instinctively on your waist as he tried to find his breath.
"Fuck, are you okay?" he questioned, frowning with that frantic, over-protective concern he usually reserves for his nephew, Yuji after he falls while playing with other kids at the park across from your apartment complex. He started checking your arms and legs for injuries, but you stopped him, cupping his face to force him to look at you.
âI'm okay,â you chuckled breathlessly, amused by his fussing. âAre you?â you asked, eyes tracing his features in faux worry as he blinks slowly, brows lowering when it dawns him.
As your hand slid from his jaw down to his neck, grazing his bobbing Adamâs apple, his eyes narrow. He goes rigid, sensing the shift in the air. The way you squeeze his bicep and offer a look of exaggerated, wide-eyed worry is a little too theatrical to be genuine. He feels the heat of your body inching closer and the sharp scratch of your nails at his nape, sending a traitorous chill down his spine.
âI'm fine,â he gritted out, jaw pulsing.
Sukuna knew exactly what youâre doingâthis wasn't an accident, itâs a trap. Heâs suspicious of the faux-fretting and the salacious weight of your touch, but despite the warning bells in his head, he doesn't move to push you away. He just stands there, trapped between the wall and your "concern," waiting to see how far you'll push it.
"Did you do that on purpose?" he growled, his voice vibrating through your bones.
"Did I do what on purpose, sir?" you asked, tilting your head back to meet his fierce gaze.
"Lying isn't cute." He set you back on the ladder, whirling you around and swatted your rear, making you yelp in delighted surprise. âUp, I want this fat ass at my eye level.â
Heart skipping and stomach flipping, you did as he said, fingers gripping the sides of the ladder, white-knuckled.
With a sudden, aggressive flick, he flipped your skirt up. The sight of the dark, shimmering patch on your panties made a low, hungry rumble tear from his throat.
"Look at you," he hissed, hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging the silk aside. "Ruining your panties while I'm working? Youâre a real brat."
âSorry, sirâOh!â His tongueâhot, broad, and terrifyingly skilledâlashed against your clit, cutting off your unapologetic response. The wet muscle melted against your pussy.
A broken whimper of his name stuttered out of you as you clutched the sides of the ladder for dear life when he buried his face in you. He was making out with the petals of your pussy, his nose buried in your trimmed pubes, sucking at your puffy clit with a devotion that borders worship, your knees turning to water.
"So sweet," he mumbled against your swollen folds, his voice muffled. "Is this what you wanted? Looking at me like a cat in heat, rubbing up on me like one too?"
âW-Wait,â you gasp out in panic, reaching back blindingly to grab at his tufts of coral hair and yank him back but he stays put, head as heavy as lead. âAh-hah, I didn't shaveââ
Flustered, you'd only wanted to tease him, you didn't think you'd be fucking around and finding out right now. He usually brushes you off.
Popping off your sensitive nub, he peers up at you with an unamused scowl, tattoos making his creased brows and crimson eyes scarier. âI'm a grown fucking man, kid.â
âI'm not a fucking kid, old man,â you spat back and he only responded with a gruff chuckle that made your belly shiver as he ducked back, licking a flat, wide stripe from your clit to your pooling whole, slurping loud and filthy.
He drank from you until you were shaking, your first orgasm crashing over you in shuddering, tingling waves, accompanied by the second one faster than you can process it.
Before you could recover, he shucked his sweatpants, and his cock springs freeâheavy, dark-veined, and weeping. He doesn't use a condom; he just fists it, stroking the thick, heavy shaft as he stares at your bare ass and drooling cunt.
"Climb down. Four rungs," he commanded with the jut of his chin even though you're facing away.
You obeyed, your body buzzing. He stepped into your space, his massive, heat-radiating frame pinning you against the ladder.
"Stay right there," he told you, his hands kneading your waist. "Such a good, needy girl."
He guided his cockhead to your entrance, and with one smooth, agonizingly slow roll of his hips, he buried himself inside you one inch at a time, each one sucking a cute little mewl out of you.
"Thatâs it, baby. Let me in, yeahâfuuuuuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder. "You're so tight. Are none of the guys your age big enough?â
âNo, sir.â
Cooing, he pressed a kiss to your nape. âSorry, baby. I'm here now.â
He began to fuck you with a lazy, torturous strokes. His calloused hands moved to your waist, kneading the soft flesh there, his thumbs digging into the small of your back. Every time he pushed forward, the ladder creaked in protest. The sound of his skin slapping yoursâa sopping, erotic plapâechoed in the quiet office.
"You like this, don't you?" he whispered into your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. "Getting filled up by the old man next door?"
A silent scream has your mouth agape when the curve of his cock drags back and forth, rubbing all your sweet spots deep and thorough, your gummy walls swelling as you nod mindlessly.
"Yeaaaah... Youâve been begging for this since the day you moved in, haven't you? Look at you, shaking for me. God, you're sucking me in so good... fuck, Iâm going to ruin you."
"Mhmmm, ah, please, sir, m-more," you sobbed, your head lolling back as you drop your ass down on his cock, mouth falling open on a breathy moan at how he fills you and pokes your belly.
The "sir" broke his restraint, his nose wrinkling as his grip on your hips tightened until his knuckles went white.
Yanking you back by your hair, he wrapped the silky strands around his fist and began to pound into you with a feral, earth-shattering thrusts. He wasn't being gentle anymore; he was carving out a spot for him inside you, his hips snapping forward with enough force to rattle the frames on the shelves.
"Thaaaat's it," he hummed, gaze narrowed on the webbing, creamy strings of milky cum stretching between his thighs and yours. "Take it all. Fuck, you're making such a mess for me. Shaking like a leaf while I stretch you out. You want me to go harder? You want me to break you?"
"Yes! Harder! Please, sir!" Your vision blurred as orgasm after orgasm tore through you.
He reached around, hoisting you up with his big hands holding you by your thighs, backing up, your feet dangling as he bore your entire weight effortlessly. He rammed upward, hitting your cervix with every brutal thrust. "Cry, baby, it's okay," he commanded, his breath hitching.
And you did, shattering again, your vision white-hot, your gooey walls clamping down on him in a rhythmic frenzy that finally pushed him over the edge.
"Fuck, I'm comingâcall me that again," he groaned, his voice breaking into a moan as his hips lose their rhythm. âShit, baby. Can I please come inside?â
"Yes, yes! please, sir!"
A long, guttural groan poured from his chest, his body tensing as he pumped his heat deep into your womb, filling you until you felt stuffed and sated.
Sukuna felt guilty for being so rough when he saw you shivering, muscles trembling. He immediately softened. "I went too hard," he muttered into your damp hair, though he didn't sound entirely sorry.
He carried you to his bathroom, his tattooed arms a safe harbor. He washed your hair with a gentle touch, his large hands careful as he lathered your skin. He dressed you in one of his oversized black hoodiesâwhich swallowed you whole, reaching your mid-thighsâand ordered a spread of high-end sushi for dinner.
That night, you slept tucked against his side, his arm a heavy, comforting weight across your waist.
It became your new reality. He took on the role of your benefactor with a grumpy, possessive pride. Heâd grumble about your spending habits while handing over his black card for your snack runs and shopping sprees, provided you let him fondle with your tits and suck on them now and then or take him to the back of your throat until he came across your cheeks.
He's got plenty of money to spare even after putting a lot of it towards his nephew's current fixations and future. So he paid for your weekend trips with friends, but the price was always the same: a night of you being his personal plaything, letting him use whatever part of you he chose to come in or on.
And every time he took you on vacationâto the snowy peaks of Hokkaido or the tropical beaches of Okinawaâhe made sure to leave his mark deep inside you, a constant reminder of exactly who's funding your lavish lifestyle with designer bags and expensive clothes.
"You want that trip with your friends, don't you?" he asks one night, his hand disappearing under your doughy thighs, kneading the soft flesh. "Then you better make sure this pussy is sore and dripping with my cum before you leave. But first get on your knees."
You obey, always with a smile, always with a "Yes, sir," knowing exactly whose bed you're coming home to.
His palm is warm against the back of your hair, petting your hair, heavy-lidded eyes glazed over as he gazes down at you through his messy coral strands, the soft, slick noises of you sucking his cock eagerly filling the living room, faint beneath the show playing on television.
Sukuna knew damn well that you never did this for his money, you couldn't fake how much you wanted him even before he became your âsugar daddyâ though he hates the term. You're more of a companion than anything else, making his life much less lonely.
Stomach caving, his eyes flutter shut brief when you hollow your throat and swallow thickly around him, his shaft pulsing as your tongue slathers it in saliva, the tip of the muscle prodding at his weeping slit. Sharp tingles dance down his spine and strike him in the groin, made worse by your glassy eyes, smudged mascara and pretty, tear-dotted lashes.
âYou better not, fuck, go on any fucking dates while you're there,â he warns in a slurred voice, not even realising what he's saying as a giggle bubbles from you, his cock throbbing at the thrum of it.
Drawing back with a wet pop, a string of saliva glittering on your lips, you beam at him. âWhy would I do that when I have you, Ryo?â
God, that nickname has warmth spreading in his heaving chest, a stray fluttering in his belly that he hasn't felt since he was your age. With a growl, his hand at the back of your head slides down to your neck and cups it, dragging you up onto his lap.
âHey, I wasn't doneââ
âShut up, greedy brat,â he grumbles, swallowing your protests that dissolve into dreamy sighs as his tongue swipes against yours, coating your mouth in the spicy, peppermint syrup flavour of the drink he'd been nursing. âFuck, I love you.â
Freezing as the words slip out of his mouth, he tries to pull back but you grab the collar of his shirt, crushing his lips against yours once more in a clumsy clash of tongue and teeth as you grin against his mouth.
âUh-uh, don't run away from me, old man.â Biting down on his bottom lip, you release it and dot a sweet peck on the tip of his nose, nipping at it. âI love you too.â
happy (belated) 420 to my bby plug!eren & all those who celebrate!! hereâs a little something bc i miss my honey heheâwc: 4.1k//cw include: HEAVY GUN KINK!!!, drug usage (weed), unprotected sex, nasty kisses, dirty talk, slight daddy kink, riding, creampie! inspo vids: 1 & 2 & 3
it was no secret to anyone that eren was packing in more ways than one.
firstly, there was the third leg that sat heavily between his thick thighsâand then there was moira; a matte black glock 19 that rarely saw the light of day, but was still tucked away somewhere with him at all times.
you donât know why he gave it such a silly name, and you never bothered to ask because sometimes eren just did shit because he could.
âi keep it for my safety, and especially yours,â is what he always told you with a sweet kiss to your forehead.
he knew you werenât into guns . . like, at all, and thatâs why he never brought it out around you at the beginning of your relationship.
but then one day, he unfortunately had to whip it out in your presence which was a lot. seeing him pull it out like he was actually gonna use it scared you, but it also shamefully turned you on more than it shouldâve. as insane as it sounded, there was just something about him using it in your honor that made your cunt pulse.
and then it was brought out during sex.
the adrenaline rush you got from having his unloaded gun pointed at you had you feeling fucking feral, and donât even get me started on when he wanted you to point it at him while he was slurping at your pussy.
that was the first time you ever held his glock, and even though it was unloaded, the mere feeling of the cold metal underneath your fingertips had ice running through your veins.
and just now you got that same feeling, only this time, his gun was very much loaded, and ready to be used.
eren has shown you how to use his gun plenty of times for safety reasons, so you knew how to handle it without causing harm to yourself or others, but youâve never actually held it and felt it out until now.
it was definitely heavier with bullets inside. you couldnât help but wonder how he walked around so casually with it.
âgeez . .â you muttered, french tipped nails tracing along the barrel. it was cold to the touch, bringing goosebumps to your bare skin.
you were supposed to be journaling, and scheduling out the next few weeks in your planner, but curiosity eventually got the best of you.
eren was in the living room, man spreading on the couch with a blunt perched between his tatted fingers while he spoke to his supplier. that kinda stuff bored you, and it was only time eren wouldnât entertain your antics. paw at his thigh one time, and youâre suddenly met with the scariest death stare of all time, and a deep frown.
the man was very serious about his business.
so while he talked about god knows what with levi, you brought your pretty ass to your shared room, and well . . . here we are.
the thing about your boyfriend, though, is that he has these spidey-like senses that alert him whenever youâre up to no good.
so when it was too quiet in the other room for more than ten minutes, he definitely had some suspicions.
âyeah . . yeah, i gotcha. i can stop by tomorrow night if thatâs cool with you. my girl, and i got dinner plans tonight . . mhm. yeah, thatâs cool. iâll see you tomorrow night then . . bye.â
click!
eren tossed his phone aside with a sigh, and looked towards the bedroom, where still not a peep was heard.
thank god you really couldnât hear for shit, so it was pretty easy for him to sneak up on you, and see what you were up to.
and it was just as he thoughtâinstead of journaling and planning out your week like you said, you were on his side of bed, crouched over like you were hiding something.
he noticed that his bedside drawer was open, and thatâs when the dots started to connect. a smirk curled at his full lips.
âwhatcha doinâ?â
âa-ah?! ren, you dummy, y-you scared me!â you huffed, quickly setting the glock back in the drawer. heat rose to your cheeks, and bells of embarrassment rung back and forth between your ears. âi just wanted to hold it for a second . . iâm sorry.â
eren was quick to shake his head, slipper clad feet slowly making their way over to you. âdonât be sorry, baby. you know iâve been wantinâ you to get your own, so donât feel embarrassed for being curious.â he plucked a raw cone that was sitting behind his ear, and brought it to his lips, âyou wanna light this fâme?â
you didnât know what it was was, but there was something so attractive about him smiling down at you with that cone dangled between his pretty lips.
blindly, you searched for a lighter, and luckily found one next to the glock. the metal grazed icily against your skin as your fingers wrapped around the lighter. âof course i do.â
he leant down a bit more, emerald eyes never once leaving yours.
a thick, yellow tinted cloud of smoked escaped past his lips before he inhaled it back in. âthank you, pretty girl,â he hummed, exhaling the smoke just a few inches above your head. ânow may i ask why you were messing with moira?â
âi wasnât messing with nothing, babe, honest! i just wanted to hold it for a minuteee,â you arms slithered around his slim waist, pulling him in closer. âi donât know how you carry that around with you all the time. itâs so heavy.â
your lips parted in a breathy sigh when he caressed at your jaw, almost like you were waiting for him to do something.
âyou get used to it after a while. feels like nothinâ to me now . . and i donât mind that you wanted to hold herââ
âwhy do you call it a her? i thought that was just for, like, cars, and boats, and stuff,â you interrupted with a raised brow. âand why moira of all names? is it from the nineteen-hundreds?â
eren just laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling together cutely. âhere,â he muttered, placing the raw cone between your parted lips.
âi call her a she because . . i donât know. it just feels right, and i referred to her as moira as a joke at first, but it kinda just stuck.â he plucked the cone from between your lips, and brought it back up to his own. âas i was saying beforeâi donât mind that you wanted to hold her. you already know i been wantinâ you to get one of your own.â
the world was a dangerous place. and during a time when men were on constant power trips, and hurting random, innocent women, eren wanted you to be fully prepared for any, and everything if he wasnât there.
but you were just not into guns.
you let out a small laugh, nimble fingers making their way up to the drawstrings on his sweats. âthe day i get a gun is the day i take your credit card off my apple pay. never gonna happen, baby.â
âso pepper spray, and a pink, bedazzled pocket knife it is, hm?â
his breath hitched only slightly when you tugged lightly at his sweats. âalwayssss,â you grinned, resting your chin on his lower abdomen.
for a moment, you both just stared at one another. the sexual tension was thicker than the tinted smoke eren french inhaled, and with each passing second, you could feel his cock growing harder.
âyou know iâd kill for you, right?â
your lashes fluttered, a dopey smile spreading across your lips. âyes, baby. you tell me that at least three times a week.â
âand you know mâserious too . . if anybody ever put you in harms wayâi wouldnât even hesitate.â
âyes, ren. i know.â
âdoes that scare you?â
he placed the cone between your lips against again, and you shook your head. this made him raise a brow, ânot even a little?â
god, you were stroking his ego so bad, and you probably knew it by the way your were looking at him, and talking in that syrupy sweet voice that had his dick twitching.
âno, rennie,â with a final inhale, you were stubbing the bitter tasting weed out, and refocusing your attention on himâspecifically the waistband of his sweats. âi think itâs really sweet actually . . that you care so much about me.â
in an instant, erenâs wife beater was pushed up just above the hardened ridges on his abdomen. kiss after kiss from your plush lips littered the entire area, bringing him to a full hard on. âtouch it,â you heard him rasp from above.
your tongue poked out, wet and pink, and trailed over the throbbing bulge. the look on his face was priceless. feral with a tinge of shock.
âmm, kiss this instead.â
and then you felt something cold against your temple. a shiver ran down your back, and goosebumps blossomed around the entirety of your body.
the only thing that was almost better than your orgasm face was the look you had right now. scared, but also pathetically needy.
a whimper bubbled in the back of your throat as you pressed a kiss to it, and then another. eventually, you poked your tongue out, but justttt a little bit.
âlook at my two favorite girls french kissinâ.â
âugh, ren! donât be crude!â your lips pushed into a pout making eren laugh harder. he nudged the weapon underneath your chin, forcing you to look up before setting it back inside the drawer.
âheh . . cute.â
when he started bunching up his hair, you knew it was go timeâthe shirt you were wearing now tossed to the side without a second thought. this left you almost bare, the only article on clothing on you being a pair of baby pink panties.
âyou excited for our date tonight?â he asked you, casual as ever like he wasnât about to give you some serious work. âbeen waiting to take you there for months.â
as he pulled off his shirt, your doe-like eyes immediately zeroed in on the swirls of ink that covered his arms and chest. his bottoms were next to go.
ây-yeah, iâm really exciâoh!â
before you could even get four words out, eren was pulling you to the edge of the bed by your legs in one, swift tug. âyou gonna wear that pretty dress i bought you? the pink one with the lace?â
while he awaited for your response, his fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, pulling them just below the soft mound of your cunt. when you didnât say anything, his eyes flicked to yours. âwell, are you?â
ây-yes, rennie. i am, i promise.â
he let out a hum of approval, and tugged your panties down the rest of the way, exposing your slicked pussy to the cool air.
âi like when you pick out my outfits,â you added, batting your lashes up at him.
his hand instantly wrapped around your throat, applying little to no pressure, meanwhile the other grabbed ahold of his twitching cock. the thick head swiped between your chubby folds once, twice, before slowly pushing in.
âslow, rennie,â you gasped out, trying your absolute best to ease up for him. âk-kiss me?â
âmhmmm.â
then his lips were against yours, the new angle causing him to push more of his dick between the tight confines of your silken walls. he just kissed you like that for a while. all slow nâ nasty until he was able to build up a steady rhythm.
âdonât stop,â you mewled against his lips, parting them more so he was able to slip his tongue into your mouth. it laved over yours, and then he was sucking on it making you whine.
the bun he put his hair in was messy, rushed, and was falling apart within minutes of him fucking you. soon, a curtain of brunette hair covered you both much to his dismay. ângh, s-stupid hair tie. hold on, babyââ
âjust leave it, honeyâdonât stop,â you repeated desperately, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks. ây-you feel sâgood!â
âshitâyeah? you like when i fuck you all sweet?â there was nothing sweet about the way his cock was drilling into you, but it sure did feel like it with the way he was talking you through it. âdonât forget to breathe.â
just as he said that, you released a long breath you didnât even know you were holding, your chest rising and falling rapidly. âgood girl. jusâ keep on breathing, and let rennie fuck you like you deserve.â
you didnât need to be told twice, your body going completely limp as eren fucked into you harder, deeper. a tatted hand gripped at the back of your knee, and slung it over his waist, the new angle bringing hearts to your eyes.
then erenâs phone started ringing.
and it wasnât just anyone, it was levi. you could tell by the ringtone because eren has designated ringtones for all his important contactsâyou included.
with the sound of skin slapping and heavy pants, you were hoping he wouldnât hear the familiar sound and stop. this was not the case.
âa-ah, fuck. thatâs levi callinâ, babyââ
your man let out a noise of confusion when you covered his ears, and pulled him in close, smushing your lips against his. âjust ignore ittttt,â you whined into the kiss, only for eren to let out a groan of disapproval.
âif you pull out mânot letting you back in.â
âoh really?â the brunette chuckled. âyou better hold on then.â
he swooped you up with ease, apologizing in the form of a kiss to your chin for the sudden movement. his cock was deep and snug inside of you, the thick veins that wrapped around the base now throbbing erratically against your gooey walls.
it felt good, like, really good, but you couldnât let him know this because he found a loophole out of your threat!
âyouâre so, so annoyingâi swear youâre the most irritating german man to have ever walked the earth!â you whined into his neck, manicured fingers threading themselves into his tousled hair.
âwhatâis me being german supposed to be derogatory or sum? da musst du dir schon mehr mĂŒhe geben, um meine gefĂŒhle zu verletzen, baby,â he chuckled into your ear. with every long stride he took to search for his phone, you could feel everything.
and now you were even more annoyed because you knew youâd have to be quiet for him.
âsei brav,â he muttered, making sure to be extra careful as he settled you both on the couch with you now pretty, and perched in his lap. âmakinâ me miss his phone calls nâ shit.â
âweâre supposed to be fucking if you didnât remember you big bruteâa-ah!â you were interrupted by erenâs thumb pushing past your kiss bitten lips, and pressing down roughly on your tongue.
he pressed the phone against his ear, emerald eyes now gone completely dark. âride me,â was all he said before the other line picked up.
âhey . . yeah, iâm sorry i missed your call. i was just a lil busy . . mhmm . . yeah, everything is fine with herâwhatâs up?â
the couch creaked underneath you as eren rested his back more into the plush cushions, his thumb still resting heavily on your tongue.
you wanted to be annoyed, you really did . . but he just looked so handsome. especially when his brows pulled together in sensitivity when your hips lifted up, leaving only the tip inside. your hands, soft as rose petals, rested on his broad shoulders, then slowly drifted upwards until you were cupping his jaw.
âdefinitely get more sativa heavy strands. i noticed the warmer it gets, the more people been buying it . . mhm . . oooo, y-yeah, iâm sure the earthy girls will love that shit,â he snickered into the phone. his teeth caught onto his bottom lip as he ran his thumb over the soft muscle of your tongue.
a whimper bubbled in your chest when he suddenly pulled it out, rubbing the excess saliva over the plush of your lips.
everything suddenly felt too hot. you wanted to move fasterâyou wanted to bring moira back into the mix honestly. but every time your ass clapped against his thighs too hard, or you whined a little too loudly, he was pinching at your nipple, each time harder than the last.
âr-ren,â you whispered, low and desperate. your eyes were glassy, filled with bratty tears because you wanted âneeded more. eren was quick to grip your jaw roughly between his tatted fingers, halting your movements completely.
ouuu, youâve done it now!
eren didnât let you move an inch, his hand slithering down to wrap around your throat. your cunt clenched wildly around his cock, almost as if you were trying to milk his orgasm from him.
âyo, you mind if i call you back? my girl needs me nâ you know how she can get . . . heh, yeah i know. iâll call you back in forty.â
you were relieved he was finally off the phone, but you werenât so crazy about the look on his face. it made you feel smallâbreakable.
because if anyone was able to mind break you into a puddle of smeared mascara nâ tears, it was eren.
âsorry,â you mumbled, and then his hand tightened around your throat. âs-sorry! mâsorry ren.â
his grip loosened a tad, but not a lot. âyouâre so impatient, you know that? canât even waitâwhat, five minutes?â
when you shook your head no, he actually smiled. it was an amused one. âwhat are you thinking about?â
never the one to censor yourself or your feelings, you said, âtaking you to bed, nâ riding you.â your lashes fluttered innocently at him while your pussy creamed him with every small movement. âwanna make you finish inside me, rennie.â
his brow twitched, and so did the corner of his lips that adorned an adorable beauty mark on the top one.
ten minutes later . . . .
âyeah, yeah, yeah, y-yes, o-oh myâ!â
your lower half spasmed against erenâs as you came with a loud, tearful cry. he laid beneath you with a twisted snarl, and scrunched brows as he tried not to cum along with youâbut it was almost impossible with the way your pussy was suffocating his cock.
a thick ring of cream started up around the base and only got frothier and messier the more you fucked him.
ângh, you like that? âlike creaming my dick, and makinâ it all messy?â a tatted hand came down on your ass, a loud smacking sound echoing throughout the room. âgod, and itâs so loud. youâre gonna make me nut real soon.â
your brain was on overload, a million thoughts racing through it at speeds you didnât even know were possible.
âcan youâcan you get it out please? please, ren? âwanna feel it on me. you feel how wet itâs makinâ me?â
oh yes. he could feel, hear, and see it.
his hands gripped at the fat of your hips, moving you back and forth, back and forth. âmhm, i feel it, baby. grab her for me?â
before your hand made contact with the weapon, eren mumbled out a low, âgo slow, and careful, pretty girl.â
there was a slight shake in your hands when you grabbed the glock, careful not to squeeze anything or bring it over too fast. erenâs warm fingers grazed over yours as he took it from you.
the sound of a click had ice running through your veins. did he justâ?
âsafetyâs off,â he muttered, now holding the icy metal against your lower belly. âbetter ride me real good, yeah?â
your feet planted into the mattress, teeth clamping harshly on your bottom lip. âi-i will, daddy. you wanâ me to move like this?â your hips moved back forth slowly, the exposed bud of your clit rubbing deliciously over his skin. âorâhah, maybe like this?â his chest felt scorching hot beneath the skin of your hands as you leant forward, now raising and dropping your lower half against his with obnoxiously loud claps.
âam i doing good?â
he circled the gun around your nipple, then carefully pushed it more into your breast. âmm, iâve seen you do better.â a lie, but he needed to get you amped up. âshow me how bad you want it. show rennie how bad you want my nut.â
while you ground your sticky cunt in eren, he held the glock firmly against your temple while his other hand gripped the plush of your ass.
everything was wet and sticky; from your thighs, to the bottom your behind, to erenâs pelvis. each time your hips lifted a lewd fwop! sound could be heard, bringing heat to your cheeks.
but now was not the time to be embarrassedânow was the time to make eren proud. that was the only thing that mattered, and will ever matter.
the minutes were ticking by quickly, and before either of you knew it, twenty more minutes had passed. it wouldnât be long before levi was calling eren again, because he was just punctual like that. eren respected it, and levi as a whole, so you best believe heâd stop mid-fuck again to answer him.
you needed to make him cum, and fast.
âi-iâm close, daddy. cum with me? please?â you had your best doe eyes on for him, the same ones that he could never resist, and had him melting into a puddle of love and warmth every time. âhahâpleaseeee,â you whined out, bringing a hand up to wrap around the wrist that was holding the glock.
âfuck yeah, iâm closeâcâmere, baby,â swiftly, he set the glock aside on the bedside table with a small thud. every nerve in his body was screaming at him to pull you close, and hold your body captive against his warm chest.
so thatâs what he did.
while you mouthed at the lipstick print tattoo he had dedicated to you long ago, he cradled the back of your head, uttering nasty praises and promises to bring you closer to your peak.
âgonna . . *huff* gonna cum, daddy. sâgonna be big, i can feel it,â you whined in his neck, every song and word you let out coming out muffled. eren just hummed, and planted his feet more into the bed, his hips pistoning upwards so fast it had you seeing stars and streaks of white. his balls, heavy and full of warm cum to give you, slapped harshly against your ass with every thrust.
âi know, baby, i can feel it. that little pussy wants to cum bad donât she?â he chuckled into your ear, pink tongue lolling out so he could lick over it.
four bruising thrusts later, and your body was full on trembling as a steady stream of your cum dripped down erenâs shaft, and onto his throbbing balls.
âfffâhuck, ren!â you sobbed into his slightly sweaty skin. your brain was completely fried, and it wasnât until now that you could finally go limp, and let eren use you like the ragdoll you so desperately wanted to be in this moment.
âoouu my fuckinâ!â eren growled out, his hands now finding purchase on your ass once more. with ease, he lifted your lower half until only the tip remained inside your tight heat. he was in full control, moving your backside up and down, up and down, until you finally felt the first streak of cum coat your walls. âtighten that pussy up, câmon, baby. milk this fuckinâ dick.â
his words had you tightening up out of instinct, giving him exactly what he wanted.
when he lowered you back down, he moaned in bliss at the warmth that greeted him, long lashes fluttering shut.
âhold me,â you whimpered into his shoulder. the shaking you were experiencing from your orgasm seemed to be never ending, and although your boyfriend had both arms lazily slung over your form, you needed more.
and eren knew exactly what you meant without even having to ask, his arms tightening around you until he heard you let out a hum of content.
âyou know i was serious about you keeping this in you all night, right? mâgonna get hard against just thinking about it,â you heard him chuckle, his fingers playfully pinching your side.
he could feel the scrunch in your nose, and grinned wider, âwhatâtoo nasty for you?â
âjust shut up, and answer the phone.â
he raised a thick brow, his smirk only faltering slightly, âbut the phone ainâtââ
before he could even finish his sentence here came that same, familiar ringtone that interrupted you not too long ago. this brought a smirk to your lips, âexactly. now answer, and lemme sleep.â
choso has one rule. never get laid. but all his plans for staying away from college romance are derailed when you come along.
synopsis: men are easy. they only ever wanted to get their dick wet anyway. so what's wrong with you beating them at their game? making pretty promises and turning into a phantom the second things looked like they might get serious? it had never been a problem before. until you meet the one guy on campus who doesn't want to play.
pairing: multiple jjk!men x bimbo!reader (choso-centric)
content: mdni, fluff + angst, COLLEGE AU, slower build, messy relationships, reader sleeping around, she falls first but he falls harder trope, reader's roster includes gojo, geto, sukuna, toji + nanami, virgin!choso, one-sided pining, yuji being an idiot, flirting, teasing, choso being oblivious
art by my @rednoki0 !! div by @/anitalenia
"Cho!"
Since he moved in with Sukuna, there were a number of, uh, weird things Choso walked into when he swung open the front door and stepped inside his apartment, but this was probably the one that caught him the most off-guard, backpack halfway slung off as he froze at the familiar voice of the last person he expected to be here.
Well, without being the one to bring him over, at least.
Yuji was waving at him, leaning out to look at the entryway to grin at his older brother.
"Shouldn't you still be in class?" Choso squinted, trying to work out whether or not to be concerned over his sibling's studies or just happy he was here. Checking the time on his phone only to frown at the confirmation that he was still supposed to be in class for another hour.
"Sukuna got me," he grinned, happily waving and seemingly oblivious to the concern on his older brother's face as he heard a scoff from deeper inside the apartment.
Shit.
Anything Sukuna wanted Yuji for couldn't be fucking good when the last time he'd gone out of his way to hang out with him was to con some rich old lady out of a couple grand by convincing her that he had some incurable illness.
Choso wanted to set a good example for Yuji.
Be the big brother he could look up to. Show where drive and determination could get you.
Sukuna wouldn't be bothered if Yuji ended up slinging drugs on the street - just as long as he could still use him for whatever scheme he was currently plotting.
"He pulled you out of school?" Choso grumbled, voice tense as he trudged in deeper, watching his brother collapse on the couch and throw his arm over the back of it.
"Yeah," Yuji excitedly confirmed, almost vibrating as his leg bounced up-and-down.
"Did he say why?"
Whatever weird reason it probably was, Choso figured it surely wasn't important enough to justify him skipping classes for.
Sukuna might not care about school. See value in a proper education.
But Choso wasn't barely scraping by and saving for Yuji to get into a good university one day for Sukuna to fuck it up.
"I'm on a secret mission," he conspiratorially whispered, earning a smack on the back of the head from the pink-haired asshole who snuck up behind him. "Ow."
"I'm taking him back," Choso grimaced, folding his arms across his chest as he glared at his half-brother.
"Don't be such a fuckin' buzzkill, the brat's just coming to my hockey game," Sukuna snapped at him, his usually short fuse apparently nonexistent today.
"Your hockey game," Choso echoed, eyes squinting suspiciously between his dark scowl and the equally irritated twitch of his mouth.
"I'm cockblocking one of his teammates," Yuji unhelpfully revealed, and Choso contemplated the feasibility of filing a restraining order on someone else's behalf. He hated the fact that Yuji even knew what cockblocking meant.
Despite the fact that he was already a teenager and definitely well past puberty.
"That's-"
"He gave me fifty bucks," Yuji added, interrupting Sukuna before he even got two words out.
Choso didn't have the heart to tell Yuji that their brother was definitely low-balling him.
Sukuna sneered though like he anticipated the protest about to leave Choso's lips, sharp nose scrunching in irritation when he exhaled slowly, running his finger through his sweaty hair as Choso tried to come up with a reason to drag Yuji away without disappointing him.
"You don't have to-"
"Are you coming too?" Yuji chirped.
The last fucking place on the planet he wanted to spend his evening at was sitting by the chilly ice rink watching asshole athletes try to knock each other's teeth at - but when it was his little brother looking at him all expectantly, he found himself agreeing through gritted teeth.
"Fine."
At least this way, he'd be able to keep Yuji out of whatever trouble Sukuna was planning.
He hadn't realized the trouble was you.
Not until Yuji had grabbed him by the sleeve and started pulling him across the bleachers a handful of hours later, nearly spilling the concession nachos Choso had bought him, dragging him to find new seats - right next to a familiar face.
Yuji had rambled more about his mission on the way here. How one of Sukuna's teammates was trying to steal a girl from him. He said Sukuna had shown him a photo, and honestly, he'd been so preoccupied with worry that this was some elaborate prank or plot at his sibling's expense that he hadn't paused to contemplate that Sukuna was serious.
The prick had never stuck his dick in the same girl long enough to start dating.
Which he also had always sworn off as something reserved for guys who couldn't get laid without bribing and begging a girl for affection.
But he guessed his brother had suddenly decided to make an exception for you.
Choso didn't realize he was staring until you caught him, your eyes locking onto his with immediate recognition.
Your head tilted to the side, lips curling up in a surprised smile as you let out a small wave and laugh.
"Didn't think I'd see you here," you greeted, a pleased hum to your voice that quite frankly baffled Choso considering he couldn't remember the last time someone spoke to him like that.
With the kind of warmth that almost made it sound like you wanted to see him.
"Yeah," he uncomfortably grumbled.
"Are you here to watch Sukuna?" Yuji immediately asked, not exactly playing the subtle card when he was supposed to be distracting you. Okay, Choso wasn't sure what his exact instructions were, but he couldn't really imagine they involved him making it obvious that Sukuna was interested in what you were doing.
No, he was more the type to act like he didn't give a shit and wait for someone to chase him or beg for an ounce of affection.
"And who's this?" You smiled, the curve of your glossy lips catching the lights as you assessed Yuji's pink hair and puppy dog eyes, ignoring his question entirely. "A third brother?"
He was nodding, already chirping about their...complicated family situation while you scooted over and gestured for them to sit next to you.
Choso was having a hard time paying attention to the easy exchange though, struggling to piece together why you showed up when you skirted around it before.
Clad in what could qualify as the world's tiniest skirt - and a jersey from the other team.
âArenât you cold?â He heard himself ask, and you seemed kinda pleased by the question. Sitting up straighter as you briefly looked down at yourself.
âAre you going to offer me your jacket?â You asked back.
âNo?â Choso pursed his lips together, not quite getting it.
You frowned for a moment, but then you recovered the easygoing expression you had put on a few seconds earlier. âThen no.â
"Are you dating Sukuna?" Yuji pestered, subject shifting before it could get uncomfortable, his elbow clumsily knocking against yours as you snuck a chip from his tray.
"God, no," you laughed, rolling your eyes at the mere idea of a relationship with their brother.
Yuji pouted at that, confusion flickering across his face as your attention shifted to the still empty ice rank, your heels clicking against the metal bleacher. Did you realize they were completely inappropriate for the venue?
Or did you just not care?
"Did you really come for him then?" He heard himself ask, maybe a little more curious in his half-brother's business than he should be. Immediately telling himself he was just prying for more information to better protect Yuji.
First, you fucked Sukuna.
Then, you were at the bar with Suguru the same night, who, from where he was standing, seemed into you.
But now you were sitting here in a third man's number, unbothered as you played with a ring on one of your fingers, studying Choso's face with a sharp scrutiny he was pretty sure he was about to melt under.
"To piss him off," you conspiratorially giggled, shrugging your shoulders as you glanced down at the name and number on your chest. "Think he'll get annoyed?"
Choso made some noncommittal sound, reclining back in his seat as Yuji finally realized what you had on.
"Are you dating someone else?" He asked, and your face scrunched up, heavy lashes fluttering before you shook your head.
"I'm a little old for you," you teased, tossing your hair back as a few more people started to filter into the stands. "But, no, I'm very much single."
"Not me," Yuji flushed, forcing the words out with a light whine. "I think Sukuna really likes you."
You laughed at that.
Choso wasn't sure why he cracked a smile at your response, especially not when Yuji started pouting at how absurd you thought his assertion was.
"The only thing Sukuna likes is-" You started, just to stop yourself when your eyes flitted over to Choso for a second, preemptively sensing his anxiety that you might let something crude slip. "Actually, I don't think your other brother would approve of me saying it."
"Thanks," Choso reluctantly muttered, despite Yuji immediately trying to swear that he was mature enough to hear it, that kids at school said way worse, but you just pretended to lock your lips and throw the key.
Choso plucked a chip from Yuji's tray, dipping it in the cheese and holding it out across from his brother's lap for you to take. There was a softness in the brief expression that flashed across your face when you took it, your fingers brushing against his before you pulled it away. Eyes never leaving his even when you brought it up to your mouth.
He broke your stare, averting his attention back to the ice, foot bouncing as he waited for the game to start.
But even when it did, when he was watching the scoreboard and listening to the announcer over the speakers, he kept getting distracted by the conversation beside him.
Unable to tune out the unending stream of questions Yuji kept pestering you with, from how you met Sukuna to what your major was to if you'd broken any bones as a kid to what you wanted to do after you graduated.
"Can't you just date my brother anyway?" Yuji complained, tugging on the end of the sleeve hanging off your arm, already comfortable with you in just a couple hours.
The nacho tray was empty. The game was already in its last period.
You weren't even looking out on the ice anymore, your body half-turned to more comfortably chat with his younger brother as you shook your head.
"Which one?" You teased, and Choso had to stop his head from swiveling in disbelief, face heating up as his jaw locked tight while you laughed.
You were just joking.
Of course.
"Either," Yuji insisted.
Choso had to pretend he didn't hear, his stomach churning as he shoved down the absurd idea of someone like you being with someone like him.
He felt your eyes on him, but he refused to turn, keeping his head forward even when he heard you start to say his name, only for Yuji to start rambling again.
"Don't tell Sukuna I told you, but he gave me fifty bucks to stop you from sleeping with his teammate, so I mean, he must really-"
You scoffed, and Yuji stopped talking immediately, Choso's protective half had him swiveling back around to make sure you hadn't hurt his feelings.
"Sleeping with his teammate?" You defensively echoed, one of your perfect brows pulling up with amusement as Yuji sheepishly shrugged. "Toji told me to come because he owes me money."
"Oh," Yuji's nose scrunched up in confusion, like he was reconsidering his mission. "So you're not going to sleep with him?"
You shook your head, but that smile you'd kept plastered on faltered for a second when you realized that Choso was watching too.
"Or Sukuna," you added, looking down to your purse in your lap - pulling out your lip gloss to reapply it.
"Oh," Yuji repeated with thinly-veiled disappointment.
What little was left of the game passed by just as awkwardly, Yujiâs failed attempt at matchmaking casting a cloud over even your sunny disposition.
But even when it was over, when the buzzer sounded off, none of you got up from where you were seated.
âDid they win?â You asked, glancing over at both of them like you wanted to make it clear you couldnât give less of a shit.
âNo,â Choso deadpanned, well aware of what that would mean.
Sukuna would come home slamming doors and talking about how much he hated the ref and call the other team a bunch of pussies before calling over someone to fuck his anger out on.
Heâd always been a sore loser.
How much worse would he take it when he wouldnât get to bring you home as a prize either?
Choso guessed heâd just call up some other sorority girl.
You were glancing down at your phone, swiping something away on it before looking between them with an expression he struggled to comprehend when he didnât really comprehend you.
âI guess I should go,â you murmured, starting to stand as that little skirt of yours rode up on your thighs. Choso forced himself to drag his stare away, a lump behind bobbing in his throat as his brother huffed.
âCanât you stay until Sukuna gets out?â Yuji complained, nearly crumpling the tray in his lap and spilling cheese as he got up after you.
âWas that part of your deal?â You asked, chewing the inside of your cheek like you were considering it. But then you glanced past Yuji to look down at Choso curiously.
Waiting for him to chime in.
To offer some opinion instead of just sitting there silently.
But he just quietly watched you back, wondering who youâd be staying for if you said yes.
âDid he promise you extra cash or something?â You added before his brother had answered your first question.
âWell, no, not exactly,â Yuji muttered, reaching underneath the collar of his hoodie to scratch his neck. âBut he said heâd get me ice cream.â
You looked to Choso again, and if he wasnât confused before, he certainly was after you directed your next question to him. âAre you going too?â
âTo get ice cream?â He squinted at you, like his eye sight was the problem instead of his hearing.
He had to be misunderstanding somehow.
Why would it even matter if he went?
âUh-huh,â you hummed, dreamily drawing out the sound.
âI guess,â he mumbled.
It wasnât like he could leave his little brother in Sukunaâs hands.
Not when heâd probably fill his head with stories of fucking girls and teaching him how to flirt and flunk out of classes. Scoff and insist that grades didnât mean anything and giving a shit was pointless.
âCan I come?â
reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3
Not all of the people reading your x reader fics have white skin
Just a gentle reminder before you write characteristics that assume whiteness and exclude your black/indigenous/poc supporters-specifically in 'x reader' works.
I love and appreciate writers, but this is a recurring avoidable issue (going on for decades now).
"your dusky pink nipples" "your face turned just as red as his" "he could see the blush on your face" âyour cheeks furiously blushedâ âyour ears burn bright redâ âThe look in your reddened faceâ âyour knuckles white with effortâ âbruised purple against your light skinâ
Describing the physical feeling instead of the visual change helps include your readers while also elevating your writing IMO.
Anyone can say "Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment" or "Your face flushed" but wouldn't you rather say "A burning heat rushed across your face, from your neck to the tip of your nose, prickling right underneath the surface. You look anywhere but him, hoping your newfound interest in the buildings ceiling tiles will ease the fire tightening beneath your skin" And instead of the other character pointing out that the readers face is red, they can point out the obvious flustered facial expression/body language.
If you want your reader insert to have white/fairskin, then just label them white!reader or put the mention in the warnings/summary.
âȘI have reached out to writers I favored/supported before and sometimes I have been met with severe hostility and defensiveness. I often wonder if people are doing this purposefully or for some reason think only white people read their fanfics (?)-if that's the case then be upfront and label your reader inserts as white!reader or something PLEASE. Itâs gotten to the point where I feel like black women and other POC arenât wanted or considered in these fandoms because it comes off like that in your writing. If you need a different motivation, just know you're missing out on more interactions, reblogs, and a bigger reader base. I donât know why white is the default for so many writers in unspecified x reader/reader insert fics-the people on your blog following, reading, and supporting you arenât all white and fair-skinned.
I am not talking about OC fics or fics where race/skintone is x specified in summary or warnings. This is specifically about unspecified "x reader" where whiteness is assumed as the default
Put in the comments good replacements for writers to use!
yess like i love reading fics so much especially x reader but its so frustrating when im reading and see âas you combed your fingers through your hairâ knowing full well i have very thick cirly hair meaning no i cant comb my fingers through itđ. or like they referenced âas you flushedâ. keep in mind unless youre writing a OC, x reader is open to many people especially POC, i dont even try to include such personalized features unless its a targaryen fic where i mention âsilver long hairâ
It was supposed to be a normal dumpster dive. Now youâre home with a magic keyboard that can rewrite reality, a curious Suguru who wants to understand it, and a very irresponsible Satoru who keeps saying âjust one more test.â At first, itâs harmless but the more it responds, the more it listens⊠and the harder it becomes to ignore the kind of thoughts that probably shouldnât be tested.
tags: 18+, mdni, 3some, oral (m! & f!), train (lol choo choo), handjob, slight tears, spit, praise, anal, double penetration, unprotected p in v, slight satosugu, face riding, gagging, creampie.
wc: 5.5k
a/n: the song... cough cough hint hint. Also, do yall know smosh?
Wednesdays were, objectively, your most questionable hobby.
Not in an illegal way. Well⊠kind of but in a âyou are literally digging through a storeâs trash like a raccoon with standardsâ type of way.
And honestly? You stood by it.
Because the beauty store threw away perfectly good products every single week, and you were not about to let a $23 foundation die in a dumpster just because the box was dented.
So here you were.
One foot hooked over the edge, the other awkwardly balancing as you leaned deeper into the dumpster, aggressively shifting bags around like you were on a mission.
âCâmon⊠donât piss me off,â you muttered, pushing aside a ripped open box.
âI know yâall got my shade in here somewhere.âYour hand brushed against something small. You pulled it out, squinting at the small print label.
âOoo Nyx lip liner? Donât mind if I do.â
Straight into your roommate's old backpack. The bag felt heavy as you stuffed it more. You nodded to yourself like this was a successful haul so far.
It wasnât because where the hell was the foundation.
You dug deeper, fully committed now, moving things around with less patience and more attitude.
âWhere the fuck is itââ
Your hand froze.
ââŠhuh?â
That⊠was not makeup.
You shifted a piece of cardboard out of the way and stared.
âA keyboard?â
You blinked at it like maybe if you stared at it hard enough, it would make sense as to why it was there. A broken palette or a hair tool or literally anything else wouldâve made sense.
This did not.
ââŠwhy would anyone throw away a perfectly good keyboard?â you said, already reaching for it because, obviously, youâre going to take it.
Finders keepers. Thatâs global dumpster dive rules.
You pulled it out, brushing off dust and random debris, turning it over in your hands. It was⊠fine. Itâs not cracked or has any missing keys. Just a few minor scratches like it had been tossed in here without much thought.
Weird, but not your problem.
You pressed a key.
Click.
Click.
ââŠokay,â you murmured, now fully testing it like you just found a free laptop on the street. The keys felt too smooth. You kept going anyway, tapping a few more.
Click click.
Your fingers moved without thinking.
Ctrl. A. Delete.
And then⊠the smell disappeared.
One second you were inhaling hot garbage air and the next your lungs were finally breathing in clean oxygen. You blinked.
ââŠwait.â
The heat from the pile of trash vanished like someone turned the worldâs worst oven off. Suddenly your skin didnât feel like it was being radioactively damaged.
âHold onâŠâ
You look down.
Oh shit.
âWAIT!â
You dropped to the ground. Concrete hit your back so fast it knocked the air out of you. An oomph leaves your body as the keyboard clattered somewhere beside you. You just laid there groaning, blinking up at the sky like your brain needed a full system reboot.
ââŠdamn.â
You sat up and looked around you. The alley was still there. The store was still there. But the dumpster was gone? Like completely gone as if it had never existed. You slowly turned your head toward the keyboard, your stomach doing that awful little drop again.
ââŠwhat the fuck did I just do.â
You slide the keyboard into our bag and zip it closed, lingering there for a second trying to process what just happened.
I'm not high?
Your brain is still stuck replaying it over and over again. The image of the dumpster disappearing was way too clear to ignore.
Did I just find a magical keyboard?
You shake your head, letting out a small breath as you walk toward your car, still trying to process what just happened and how a random keyboard was somehow able to do⊠that. It doesnât make sense.
Yet the more you replay it in your head, the clearer it becomes that you didnât imagine it, that it actually happened. That alone is enough to send a quiet thrill through you. Because who just randomly finds a keyboard that can delete things out of existence?
Exactly.
You slide into the driverâs seat, your hands settling on the wheel as that excitement lingers. Before you can even think to question it further, youâre already starting the car and pulling out of the alley way.
Oh, the boys are going to flip their shit when they see this.
The drive home passes quicker than usual. You finally pull into your usual spot, right between Suguru and Satoruâs cars, parking a little messier than normal because youâre already reaching for your bag before the engine fully cuts off.
You hop out, shut the door, and head straight for the apartment, unlocking it quickly.
âGUYS GUYS.â
Your voice carries through the space as you step inside, already smiling, and a little breathless from the rush of it all.
You make your way into the living room where Satoru is sprawled across the couch, completely relaxed with one leg thrown over the armrest as he eats his daily kikufuku. He watches TV like nothing in the world matters, while Suguru sits on the lounge chair nearby, scrolling on his phone with a calm, unbothered expression.
âGUYS, guess what I found!â
You step directly in front of the TV without hesitation, blocking it completely as you stand there, your bag still hanging from your shoulder.
Satoru groans immediately, dragging a hand down his face in annoyance. âOh my... moooove.â
âAnother makeup product you donât need,â Suguru says flatly, not even bothering to look up yet.
âOr clothes you think are âfine if you wash them,ââ Satoru adds, glancing at you now with a smirk. Suguru lets out a quiet chuckle at that.
You roll your eyes, already glancing down at the table as you reach for the remote without asking.
Click.
The TV shuts off.
âY/N!â Satoru snaps, sitting up immediately. His irritation is clear as he looks at the now black screen.
ââŠseriously,â Suguru mutters, finally lifting his gaze toward you.
You step back into place like nothing happened. A grin spreads across your face, your excitement obvious now that you actually have their attention.
âNow that I have your attentionâŠâ
âYou better have found Cleopatra or something because what the hell,â Satoru says, clearly unimpressed as he is still slumped on the couch.
Your grin only widens, turning a little mischievous as you slowly reach into your bag and pull out the keyboard, holding it up like itâs the most impressive thing in the world.
âTaa daa.â
Thereâs a pause.
Suguru stares at it for a second before he bursts out laughing. The sound genuine as he leans back into his chair, shaking his head like this was the most stupidest thing ever.
âAre you serious?â he asks, still laughing under his breath.
âY/N... just move out the way,â Satoru mutters, already reaching for the remote again.
âNo you're not even going to let me show you what it can do,â you say, stepping forward and placing the keyboard down on the table. Your tone shifts just enough to show youâre actually serious now.
Suguru looks at you again. His expression shifts from amusement to curiosity as he studies your face, like heâs trying to figure out if youâre joking or not, or if youâve actually just lost it.
Satoru, meanwhile, barely spares you another glance. He's already halfway through eating the last of his kikufuku as he reaches for the remote again, clearly ready to ignore whatever thiâ
Until you press the keys. Your fingers move a little more deliberately this time, repeating exactly what you did before.
Ctrl. A. Delete.
The kikufuku disappears. No crumbs, no wrapper, nothing left behind, like it was never there in the first place.
"Hey!" Satoru whines. His voice sharp with disbelief as he stares down at his now empty hand. You freeze as your eyes widen. You look between his hand and the keyboard, your breath catching slightly.
âOh my godâŠâ
Suguru leans forward slowly. His attention completely locked in now and the earlier laughter gone as his gaze sharpens, watching the exact spot where the kikufuku used to be.
Satoru looks up at you again, his expression shifting from confusion and melting into shock, then into something much more interesting.
Suguruâs gaze lingers on the keyboard for a moment longer before he finally looks up at you. His expression is noticeably more serious than before.
âWhere did you find that?â he asks.
You let out a breath, still riding that weird mix of adrenaline and excitement as you launch into the story. Explaining everything that happened from the dumpster, and the random keys you pressed, to the way it just⊠disappeared.
You gesture a lot while you talk, like maybe acting it out will somehow make it sound less insane, but judging by the way theyâre both staring at you, itâs not doing you any favors.
By the time you finish, the room is quiet.
They are taking a while processing what you just said.
Suguru is staring at the keyboard again with his brows slightly drawn, while Satoru is looking at you like heâs halfway between impressed and deeply concerned.
ââŠwhat else does it do?!â Satoru suddenly blurts out. The excitement hits him all at once as he pushes himself up from the couch. Before you can even respond, heâs already gone, disappearing down the hall at full speed.
You blink.
ââŠoh, heâs about to make this worse,â Suguru mutters under his breath.
Satoru is back in seconds, holding up a slightly crumpled five dollar bill like itâs the key to a life changing experiment.
âOkay, okay, watch this,â he says, slapping it onto the table with way too much confidence for a guy who has no idea what heâs doing.
âWait...maybe donâtââ you speak up already sensing where this is going.
âGimme,â he cuts in, reaching over and snatching the keyboard straight out of your hands before you can even finish the sentence.
He pulls it closer, leaning over the table like a kid who just discovered something illegal but exciting. Suguru leans in, clearly just as invested now even if heâs pretending not to be.
Satoru smooths the five dollar bill out on the table like presentation matters, then glances down at the keyboard.
ââŠcopy aaaaand pasteâŠâ he murmurs, sounding way too proud of himself for figuring that out. He presses the keys.
In the blink of an eye, another five dollar bill appears right next to the first, perfectly identical, like it just spawned there out of thin air.
All three of you freeze.
ââŠwoah,â Satoru says, his voice dropping in genuine awe as his eyes light up instantly. He grabs both bills, flipping them over, and holding them up to the light. Comparing them like heâs about to discover some hidden flaw but there isnât one.
ââŠno way,â he mutters, grinning like this is the best thing thatâs ever happened to him. Before either of you can stop him, he presses the keys again.
Ctrl. C.
Ctrl. V.
Another bill. Then again and again.
The table starts filling up fast, bills stacking unevenly as they keep appearing one after another. Satoru is fully locked in now, laughing menacingly as he just unlocked a cheat code for life.
âHAHA okay, wait, this is actually insane,â he says, not even looking up.
âSatoru...â you try again, watching the growing pile with a mix of disbelief and concern.
âThis is literally free money. Do you understand how illegal this probably is?â he continues, completely ignoring you as he keeps going.
âYeah, and youâre still doing it,â you point out.
âThat sounds like a future problem,â he shoots back instantly, not missing a beat.
Suguru watches for another second, his expression tightening just slightly as the pile keeps growing, before he suddenly leans forward and snatches the keyboard right out of Satoruâs hands.
âThatâs enough,â he says calmly, though thereâs a quiet firmness there that wasnât before.
Satoru looks up immediately, offended. âHeyââ
âYouâre going to crash the economy in our living room,â Suguru replies without even looking at him, already turning the keyboard slightly in his hands as he studies it more closely.
Satoru blinks. ââŠthat feels dramatic.â
âYou just made about forty dollars in ten seconds,â you add.
âOkay, but how would the police know?â
Suguru ignores both of you, his focus fully on the keyboard now, his earlier amusement completely gone as curiosity takes over.
ââŠif it can do that,â he says slowly, more to himself than anyone else, âthen thereâs more.â
You glance down at the keyboard again, turning it slightly in your hands like itâs magically going to explain itself if you stare at it long enough.
âOkay, wait, there has to be something on this.â you mumble, already pulling your phone out. You type in the model number printed on the back, scrolling as the results pop up.
ââŠokay, um... apparently this is an HP SK-2501 wired multimedia keyboard from⊠2000?â you say, blinking at your screen.
â2000? That thing is older than my patience.â Satoru repeats, leaning over your shoulder.
You snort a little, still scrolling. âIâm serious, it literally looks like a regular old keyboard.â
Suguru leans in slightly, way more focused than Satoru. âKeep reading.â
âYeah yeah, hold onâŠâ you skim through the page, your nose scrunching.
âOoo, okay so this says it has a built-in microphone.â
That gets both of their attention.
âA microphone?â Suguru repeats.
âYeah, like⊠voice command or something. It says if you say âcomputer,â it activates a search function⊠I think?â you say, tilting your phone so they can kind of see. You barely finish your sentence befoâ
âCOMPUTER!â Satoru shouts.
You flinch. âWhy are you yelling?â
The air in front of you flickers. Right there in the middle of the room. It kind of glitches for a second, like something trying to load, and then a search bar pops up.
Just floating there right in front of you.
ââŠoh.â
Itâs not attached to anything just floating in the air. Glowing softly with a blinking cursor waiting at the left.
Satoru leans forward immediately. âNo way.â
Suguru stands up without even thinking, stepping closer with that quiet curiosity of his, and reaches his hand out slowly.
His hand goes straight through it. The light bends around his arm for a second, like water rippling, before settling back into place when he pulls away.
âOkay, thatâs⊠weirdly coolâ he says under his breath.
You step a little closer too, staring a little too hard at it. Satoru, of course, is already over it in the best way possible, leaning forward with a grin like he just found his new favorite toy.
âGive me a random sweet treat⊠I donât know,â he says, way too eager.
The cursor blinks as the bar flickers slightly. You glance at Suguru, then back at it, that same feeling creeping in again. Not just excitement this time but something a little⊠off.
All of a sudden, a banana split sundae appears on the table. It just pops into existence like itâs been there the whole time.
It's stacked with three scoops of Neapolitan ice cream, whipped cream piled way too high, chocolate drizzle melting down the sides, sprinkles everywhere, and a cherry sitting on top.
Satoru gasps like he just witnessed a miracle.
âNo way- donât touch it, donât even look at it, Iâm getting a spoon. â he says already halfway to the kitchen before anyone can even process what just happened.
âYou werenât gonna share anyway,â you mutter, watching him disappear. Suguru leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies the sundae like heâs trying to figure out if itâs real or if this is some kind of elaborate hallucination.
âThatâs actually insane,â he says slowly.
Satoru comes back in record time with a spoon in hand. He sits down and drags the sundae closer to himself like someoneâs about to snatch it out of his hands.
âThis is the best day of my life,â he says, already digging in without hesitation.
âOf course it is,â Suguru replies even though heâs watching the bowl like heâs debating whether to snag a bite.
You donât say anything at first, just standing there with your arms loosely crossed, watching them like this is the most normal thing in the world, even though five minutes ago none of this existed.
âOh, by the way, you guys can't use itâ you say casually.
Satoru pauses mid bite and Suguru stops moving completely. They both deadpan towards you.
ââŠwhat?â Satoru says slowly.
You smile, stepping forward and pulling the keyboard back toward you, holding it just a little closer to your chest.
âYou both said it was useless so, technically, you don't get access to such a useless item,â you explain completely serious.
âThatâs not how that works,â Satoru says as he points at you with his spoon.
âYeah how were we supposed to know it was magic?â Suguru adds, leaning back now, clearly amused.
âExactly, how were we supposed to know that shit deletes desserts out of existence and then spawns better ones?â Satoru continues, gesturing wildly now.
You shrug. âSounds like a personal problem.â
They both stare at you like you just slapped them in the face. Satoru scoffs, shaking his head. âYouâre gatekeeping that now?â
âYes,â you say immediately.
Suguru huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he glances between the two of you. âThis is ridiculous.â
âNo, whatâs ridiculous is that I live here and suddenly I donât have access to the magic reality keyboard in my own home,â Satoru says, still holding the spoon like heâs making a valid point.
âCorrect.â
âThatâs crazy.â
âOh well...â you gesture vaguely.
They both start talking at once after that, Satoru getting louder and more dramatic while Suguru chimes in with calmer with more sarcastic comments. The two of them very quickly team up against you like youâre the unreasonable one here.
You let them.
You let them complain and talk over each other. Letting Satoru take another bite mi -argument like that somehow strengthens his case. Honestly, itâs kind of funny watching them act like this over something they dismissed two minutes ago.
While theyâre going back and forth your attention drifts back to the keyboard in your hands. Your thumb runs lightly over one of the keys, absentminded as your thoughts start wandering. Their voices blur into background noise.
Delete. Copy. Paste. Create.
Your gaze lifts slowly back to them. Satoru is still eating like nothing in the world matters. Suguru is watching you out of the corner of his eye like he knows youâre thinking something.
âŠdoes it work on humans?
Your fingers still for just a second, your expression shifting ever so slightly as you stare at them a little longer than before, your mind already starting to turn that idea over in ways it probably shouldnât.
You donât say anything at first, just staring at the keyboard.
âComputer?â you say.
The search bar flickers back into existence midair, glowing softly like itâs been waiting for you this whole time. Satoru doesnât even look up, still focused on his sundae.
âOh brother, here she goes again.â
You tilt your head slightly, eyes flicking toward him.
ââŠhave Satoru drop his sundae.â
Satoruâs arm jerks like a random muscle spasm. The spoon flies, his wrist twists, and the entire sundae slips right out of his hand.
SPLAT.
Right onto the floor.
You blink once then immediately burst out laughing. You don't even feel bad that you can't hold it in. Satoru just sits there staring at the mess on the ground. His brain is clearly trying to catch up to what just happened.
ââŠwhat the fuck?â he says slowly, looking down at his hand like it betrayed him.
Your breath catches before you even realize it as your grip tightens around the keyboard. Your heart begins to race, the feeling curling in your chest a little too close to excitement for comfort.
Because now you know that it obeys.
Your fingers hover over the keys again and your thoughts move faster than you can keep up with. The possibilities stack on top of each other in ways that feel a little dangerous.
This thing control more than just objects. Your heart raced as you were ready to say another command.
"Computer?" You hesitate for a minute as you glance between Suguru and Satoru.
"Make these guys make out."
Instantly, Suguru's composed facade shattered as he turned to Satoru. Their eyes lock in a heated gaze before their mouths collided and lips parted with urgent need. Their tongues explore each other as Suguru's hands roam up Satoru's chest, pulling him closer.
The sight of them making out sent a jolt to your own wet heat between your thighs. Satoru's cocky grin melts into desire as Suguru's touch turns sensual. Your body aches with jealousy and excitement.
As they kissed deeper, their bodies pressed together. You watch as Satoru's hands slide under Suguru's shirt, tracing the firm muscles of his back. You couldn't resist escalating things.
With a mischievous grin, you spoke up. "Computer?"
"Have them strip each other down to their boxers."
Clothes flew off in a frenzy. Suguru yanks Satoru's shirt over his head to reveal his toned abs and a trail of white hair leading to the bulge in his pants. Satoru quickly unties Suguru's drawstring, sliding his shorts down to expose his massive thighs and the outline of his erection straining against his black boxers.
They didn't stop kissing, their mouths devouring each other, moans vibrating in the air as you had another brilliant idea spark in your mind. The keyboard's power is fueling your boldness.
Why stop at two?
"Computer?"
"Have all three of us... fuck."
Satoru's eyes gleam with thrill and Suguru's reserved demeanor crack into a sensual smile. They broke apart just long enough to grab your hand and guide you towards Satoru's bedroom. The door closes behind you with a click, enclosing all of you in a room full of anticipation.
You set the keyboard down on the bedside table before turning your attention back to the boys.
The air grew thick, musk and sweat lingered as you fell into a three-way kiss. Your lips and tongue colliding in a chaotic dance. Satoru's cocky energy pressing against you while Suguru's steady hands roam over your curves and squeeze your breast through your hoodie.
Satoru's fingers trail down your sides and Suguru's thumb brushes your nipple until it hardens, leaving you breathless. They worked together to strip you down, tugging off your hoodie and jeans with efficiency. They leave you in your bra and underwear, the fabric clinging to your damp skin as your pussy throbbed with need.
You all tumbled onto the bed with Satoru on your left and Suguru on your right.
Their warm bodies sandwich you as their hands explore your thighs and waist. You leaned into Suguru, your kiss deepened into something predatory. Your tongue dove into his mouth while your other hand slipped back to palm Satoru's thick cock through his boxers. Feeling it pulsed under your touch
Your hunger shifted, urging you to turn your attention fully to Satoru.
You broke away from Suguru for a moment, capturing Satoru's lips in the same fierce kiss. Your mouth melds with raw intensity that made your toes curl. His tongue teases yours as his hands roam upward to cup your breast
He squeezed them firmly, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. Meanwhile, your other hand ventured down to Suguru's boxers, slipping inside to wrap around his throbbing cock. You do the same to Satoru, pulling them both free into the warm air of their room.
They were hot and heavy in your grip, their veins standing out along the shaft as you stroked them slowly. You savor the silky skin gliding under your fingers as their breath hitches into a deep groan.
Suguru threw his head back, his face flushed of pure ecstasy as his eyes fluttered shut.
"Fuck, y/n, your hands feel so damn g-good...keep going, just like that." he whispered.
Satoru's lips teased against your ear as he trailed his hand down your stomach. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties to feel the wetness there.
"You're so w-wet already. God, I love how you get for us." he murmured. His touch unerring as he rubbed your swollen folds and circled your clit making you moan into his mouth.
"Stroke me harder, baby." Suguru's dirty words cut through, his voice sounding commanding despite his pleasure-druken state. You quickened your pace on them both.
You all were enjoying that for a moment before Suguru sat up fully against the headboard, yanking his boxers off completely in one swift motion. His cock standing proud and glistening with his precum.
You slipped off your own panties, the cool sheets brush against your bare skin as you positioned yourself between his legs. You lean down, taking his cock into your mouth with slow sucks, tasting the salty tang of his precum. You swirled your tongue around his sensitive head.
The wet squelching sound filled the space. Satoru laid back on the bed, guiding you to straddle his face. His tongue dove into your pussy the moment you settled down. His tongue lapped at your folds with eager strokes that made you gasp around Suguru's cock.
Your body is trembling.
The overwhelming pleasure it too much to handle.
Your eyes watered as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag softly around his thick length. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth in sticky strands that trailed down his shaft.
He was gentle in his guidance. His hand cradling the back of your head with a firm grip in your hair, urging you deeper while his hips rocked ever so slightly.
Satoru's arms were locked around your waist like iron bands. He pins you firmly to his face as his tongue keeps moving relentlessly into your pussy. He can barely breathe but he doesn't care. His strong hand grips your ass while he sucks on your swollen clit. That drew out a muffled moan from you.
The feeling was utterly intoxicating.
Your body was shaking, every nerve felt alive. As the pleasure built up to an unbearable peak, Satoru's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your ass as he pulled you even closer. You grind involuntarily against his face.
"Mmm that's it, take me deeper..." Suguru's breath comes in ragged gasps as he whispers words of encouragement.
The hunger in the room demanded more.
Satoru released his hold just enough to switch positions. He guides you onto your hands and knees while he gets behind you. His hard cock presses against your entrance.
Suguru moved with him, positioning himself in front of you. Satoru pushed slowly into your dripping pussy, filling you with one deep, stretching thrust. The pressure makes you gasp as he pushes inside, inch by glorious inch.
"You're so fucking tight," he groaned. His hands grip your hips steady as he fills you completely. You could feel his cock throbbing deep within your pulsing walls.
You whimper at the sheer size of him. The stretch burned.
Suguru was quick to silence you, thrusting his cock back into your mouth with a commanding grip on your hair. His length sliding over your tongue that left you a moaning mess.
Satoru's deep growls, Suguru's huskily breaths, and your muffled cries echoed the room. The intense pleasure made your fingers clutch the bedding.
Satoru leaned forward, his athletic frame arching over you, meeting Suguru's eyes. Their lips crash together is a passionate kiss, their tongues swirling in a battle for dominance. The wet sounds of their mouths mirror the slapping of skin.
Satoru slowed down, sliding out with a slick with plop that left you aching and exposed. You were shifted into missionary, legs spreading instinctively as Suguru positioned himself between them. His lean, muscular frame hovers over you.
His tip brushed against your soaked entrance, teasing before he pushed in deep. Stretching and filling you made you gasp. His thrust was steady and powerful as each one drove deeper. His dark hair falling forward as he lost himself in your pussy.
"That's it, take it all," Suguru muttered.
Satoru knelt by your head. He slapped his hard cock against your cheek.
"Let me feel that pretty mouth now," he said with a wicked grin. He rubs his tip against your bottom lip, guiding himself in as your lips parted. Cries of pleasure muffled around him.
Satoru's free hand trailed down Suguru's back, his finger tracing his muscles before dipping lower to rub circles against your sensitive clit. The tripled sensations overwhelmed you.
"So tight, so fucking perfect," Satoru groaned.
"Every inch of you is ours now." Suguru added.
The sounds of moans, wet slurps, and skin slapping sounded like a damn symphony. You pulled your mouth away from Satoru's cock, barely being able to catch your breath.
"Oh fuuck yes, I need both of you..." The words spill out of you in a lustful haze as you feel Suguru's balls slap against your ass. Suguru leaned down to capture your lips in a teeth clashing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth just as his cock fills you.
The keyboard's lingering magic whispered in your ear, urging you to push further. Your voice hoarse with need as you call out the next command.
"Com- computer~" you try to get out.
"Have her take both of us." Satoru interrupts.
Instantly, your bodies shifted in a whirlwind of motion. Satoru rolls onto his back and pulls you down onto his lap. His strong hands guide you to straddle his hips. His cock, still rock hard and glistening, slid into your dripping pussy with a single, deep thrust.
"Ahhh shiit," you cry out, your thighs trembling as you begin to ride him. Bouncing slowly at first, then picking up a frantic rhythm that had his head falling back against the pillows.
The stretch of him filling you was so intoxicating. Every downward grind sends jolts of pleasure through your core. Your breast brushes against his chest with each movement.
The overstimulation hit like a car crash when Suguru moved behind you. His hands gripped your waist with the firmness that you craved, positioning himself at your ass.
"You're so greedy for us, aren't you?" Satoru murmured in your ear. His hot breath mixed with the sweat on your neck as he thrust up to meet your hips.
Suguru pressed in, his cock pushing past the tight ring of resistance, stretching you in a way that bordered on overloading. The dual invasion makes your whole body quake with painful pleasure.
They pounded into you, Satoru's thick cock stroking your pussy while Suguru's drove deeper into your ass. The sensation left you breathless. Suguru leaned in close, his lips brushed your shoulder as he whispers near your ear.
"Take it all, mmh, let us r-ruin you completely." His sensual words pushed you right to the brink of your climax. The pressure is building up and about to burst.
"Come for us, baby," Satoru's dirty whispers grew more urgent. Their thrust got even harder.
Their encouragement shattered you. Your body convulsed in a blinding release that crashed over you, pulling them along.
"Aahh, shit... you b-both feel s-so good."
Their own climaxes erupt inside you with guttural groans and shuddering thrusts. Satoru's cock pulsed deep inside your pussy, spilling hot waves of cum that filled you up.
His seed seeps out around him as you collapse on his chest. Your breath is coming in ragged gasps as every muscle trembles from the aftershock.
Suguru followed after, his final thrust into your ass grows erratic before he stilled. His seed is flooding your ass leaving you with a feeling of being claimed.
You lay there sandwiched between them, Suguru's heart pounded against your back and Satoru's hands trace soothing circles on your thighs.
Yet, even in the blissful aftermath, the keyboard eerily sits on the bedside table, tugging at your awareness of it. A reminder of the danger game you've played. Satoru's fingers threaded through your hair.
"Fuck, y/n, that was incredible," his words sounded of genuine affection that made your chest tighten.
Suguru moved your hair and pressed gentle kisses on your neck down to your shoulders.
The night deepened around you, the soft glow of the street lights filter through the curtains. Satoru's hand slid down the interlock with yours as Suguru's breath was warm against your neck. You completely surrendered to the intoxicating feeling of satisfaction.
There you sat on your throne; your workers surrounded you as they questioned what you had wanted to do for the day. It was almost for nothing because of how grumpy you had been all day. Their words had fell onto deaf ears. Some got scowls, others just ignored, a few unlucky ones got yelled at. No one knew exactly what had gone wrong with you, but they were trying to make it better.
It should have been obvious to most. You missed your husband oh so dearly. It had been over four months since you had last saw him. Sitting in his home without him caused dread for you. While everyone else may have enjoyed not being in fear 24/7 you could not say you were happy at all.
Nights just seemed to drag on for hours and the days blurred together. You had no one there to hold you after your shower. No one to kiss your tears away when you awoke from your night terrors. Breakfast seemed dull without the man's complaints about the day or telling you what duties he had awaiting. There wasn't anyone who was like your husband. That made everything truly a drag.
"You. There you are. I waited in my chambers for you to come to me. Yet here I find you. Where you hiding once again? Is this another one of your little pranks?"
Sukuna's voiced boomed throughout the room making your head snap.
There stood your husband in all his glory. Two of his arms crossed against his chest and the other two resting by his hips. Over seven foot tall, the workers instantly tensed up in fear. Many scattered to get out of the way. They didn't expect however for you to spring out of your seat and run to your husband. Sukuna caught you like it was nothing, burying his face into your cheek. His own expression changed when he felt your tearz drip onto him.
Over the moments of not being able to contact you he had forgotten how good it felt to be loved. How much he actually liked being missed. And feeling you collapse into his embrace and sob into him made his throat hurt.
"You cling as if you did not know I was home. I awaited your arrival."
When he didn't get anything in return but a sob, he knew that they had fucked up. His "Everything" was unhappy, so that would cause hell for everyone. That could wait though. He needed to make up for last times.
à§»êȘ singledad!nanami x kindergartenteacher!reader
syn. â Nanami Kento lives for his daughter and his career. He hasnât been with a woman in years since his daughterâs mother left them. But now, his unavailability act is slipping after a month of secret texts with his daughterâs teacher.
warnings: secret relationship, angst, implied sexual content, sad baby, workplace influence, rejection, regret, ghosting/cutting ties, etc.
wc: 2.4k (this is not grammar checked at all btw nor is it proofread)
a/n: IM SO SORRY ABOUT THIS BEING TWO DAYS LATE I WAS SICK AND I WAS TRYING TO PERFECT THIS AND I STILL DONâT QUITE LIKE IT BUT ITS WTV. TY @sugusplaything FOR ALLOWING ME TO ENTER YOUR #justthisonce EVENT, AND CONGRATS ON 1k BABES!! đđ
You and kento were bound to happen.
I mean, youâve been eyeing him for months now. And everytime he drops off his sweet little girl kensley, you canât help but steal a glance.
So what do you do when you finally get the chance to talk to him? You donât hesitateâit goes exactly how you planned.
Or so you thought.
You teach the kindergarten class his daughter is in. Sheâs adorable and such a sweetheart. And every chance she gets when she arrives home, sheâs quick to start talking about you to her daddy.
âAnd today daddy,â she beams, standing on the stool to their kitchen island. âUh huh?â Nanamiâs following along as he prepares her snack, back facing his daughter.
âShe said I looked so pretty!â She smiles. âShe said I looked so prewty with my butterflies, an-and I told her that you did em daddy!â
âIs that right peanut?â He asks, grin full of acknowledgment of her happiness on his face. He turns toward her with a plate of pig in a blanket, sitting them on the island.
âMhm!â She gleams, grabbing one and holding in her little hand, eating it slowlyâjust how nanami taught her.
Nanami plops one of the sausages into his mouthâintrigued. âYou must really like her, pea.â He crosses him arms against the island, leaning toward his daughterâs face. âYou come home talking about her everyday.â
She stuffs her little chubby face with the rest of the mini sausage she had, making sure to chew it all before verbally agreeing. âYes,â she nods quickly.
âI wish she was my mommy, daddy.â She answers honestly before stuffing another piggy in her mouth.
Kento just barely holds back his shock, nodding as he thinks back to when she would get angry at any mention or idea of a mother.
Her daddy did everything and thatâs just how she preferred it.
His eyes narrowed as he thought deeper, not leaning against the island anymore. Out of all the dates and women heâs ever mentioned to his daughter, your the only women that he hasnât even spoken to before that she prefers.
So the next morning when heâs dropping her off again? Heâs looking for you.
Heâs asking around, trying to figure out just who this teacher is.
And any expectations on you being just this nice older lady he canât even talk to are all shut down the moment he sees you.
Heâs met with the most beautiful and kindhearted woman heâs ever seen.
He watches as his daughter runs up to you, little arms opened up as wide as possible as you crouch down to her level with just as big as a smile as hers, engulfing her in your arms.
His heart warms within his chest, a feeling he hasnât felt in years.
THE NEXT DAY is like a whirlwind for you when Nanami walks up to you, asking about your contact info that he insists are just for âemergenciesâ.
Regardless of you knowing, you still give them to him.
Over the next few days, the two of you make conversationâvery awkward conversation.
[mr.kento]: hello ms. L/n.
[đ]: yes Mr. Kento?
[đ]: Isnât it a bit late for you to be messaging me?
[mr.kento]: well yes, but I just thought last minute about the macaroni project thatâs due.
[đ]: sir, Kensley already turned that in. And that was a project from a week ago.
Nanami gets flustered behind the phone, running out of things to pester you about. Trying and failing to make conversation.
You just blink at the screen before you turn it off, turning over. What the hell was that?
A few days later, youâre in class monitoring all your students as they critique whose drawings are better when nanamis daughter suddenly comes running up to you.
âMs. L/n?â She blinks up at you, batting her lashes. You hum, turning your attention her. âYes sweetie?â You crouch down to her level when she hands you her drawing.
âI drew you and my daddy.â She smiles, swaying back and forth on her heels.
Youâre taken aback as you observe the picture. It was soâcute! You mask your expression but still show her gratitude.
âThis is very beautiful, kensley. But why us three?â You tilt your head as you look back at her.
âBecause daddy thinks youâre pretty and I want you to be my mommy!â She exclaims in excitement, the biggest smile on her face.
âO-oh..!â Youâre clearing your throat as your cheeks heat up, nodding.
âI donât think thatâs appropriate kensley.â You go back into teacher mode, trying to gain composure.
âIt is if I say so.â She grins, determined grin on her face.
Your face heats up again as you sag the paper down. âG-go draw another piece kensley.â
Her big smiles back on her face. âMkay! This time, i draw you and daddy kissing!â She squeals as she runs back over to her spot on the carpet.
God why were toddlers so observant?
You stare down at the crayon drawing of the three of you, long after Kensley had skipped away. But particularly staring at you and Nanami holding hands.
It was ridiculous.
It was unprofessional. And yet, when you see nanami at pickup that afternoon, you canât help but feel your heart doing backflips.
The awkward texts didnât stop after the macaroni incident. They became frequent routineâa secret world you two had gotten used to within your cellphones. He finally stopped making excuses about school and asking how his daughter was, and began to ask about your day.
His sharp wit finally beginning to show through his âbusiness onlyâ facade.
Over the next couple of weeks, you two are going on secret dates. Going to get coffee after hours, going to catch up over dinner whilst Kensley is at home fast asleep, or my favoriteâgoing to watch a romance movie and scared to touch each otherâs hands like some teenage virgins.
Your texts had become one of the staples throughout his grueling ten hour shifts, and heâd find himself checking his phone under the conference table with a faint ghost of a smile, reading your latest text about Kensleyâs antics in class. Life honestly has been great this past month.
Well- until it wasnât.
The shift in his mindset was on a Tuesday. After a meeting, Nanami was called to his supervisors office.
âKento.â His voice is firm as his hands rest in front of him. âSir.â Nanami answers, eyes completely focused on him.
The supervisor takes a second to lets the silence take over before heâs sighing and sitting up straight. âKento, your metrics are still very high,â his boss says, not once glancing up from a spreadsheet.
âYes sir.â Nanami nods quickly in acknowledgment.
âBut youâre distracted. Y-you-youâve been late on three memos this week and paychecks come in this Saturday.â The man blinks.
âYouâre losing your edge. I need âoffice manâ slash âbusiness manâ kento, not whatever the hell this is lately.â Nanami swallows hard as he takes the scolding, head held high.
âFix it. For you and your daughterâs sake. Iâm not saying yall are poor or arenât rich, but lose a job like this? You wonât get another close to it. Especially with this kind of pay.â His supervisor finishes, leaning back in his seat.
âThatâs all. Go.â
âYes sir.â Nanami swallowed a lump in his throat he didnât even know he was holding down as he turned and walked out.
The words hit him like train. âFor your daughterâs sake.â Any mention of his little girl always made him get in his head.
When friday night arrived, the sky was so cloudy, thunder threatening to strike.
You decided to run over to Nanamiâsâjust to return something of Kensleyâs of course.
Earlier that day, Kensley had left her pink sequins doggy purse in the cubby. And you know how she is without it, so once you finished tidying up all the toys laid out across your classroom, you made your way to Nanamiâs house.
As you made your way to his house it began to pour, and as you got closer, there were no parks near his house, so you had to park all the way across the street.
The warning from his supervisor sat heavy in his chest, a feeling that made him question his own discipline.
âYour losing your edgeâ is all that would replay in his head. Surely you couldnât be that much of a distraction in his life, right?
Heâd spent his entire evening in a silent house. He was halfway through a glass of scotch, still in his slacks, and dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar when he heard a knock at the door.
When he arose, brows furrowed as he made his way to the door, he wasnât expecting to see you.
You stood there, hot pink sequins doggy purse clutched against your chest, pastel cardigan clinging to your sun dress. Your hair was damp, cold against your neck as your cheeks flushed from the wind.
âUhm, hi.â You pant with a sheepish smile, holding out the bag for him. âSorry for randomly dropping in like this, but Kensley left her doggy purse in the cubbies earlier today and I know sheâd be upset if she knew she left it at schoolââ
âKensleyâs currently with my parents for the night.â Nanami interrupts, clearing his throat as his eyes skim over your wet form.
You looked so small, so vulnerable.
He should have just taken the bag and thanked youâbut he couldnât help himself. He should have been the professional his boss asked to return.
But instead of reaching for the purse, heâs contemplating once again. The memory of every text, every awkward call, every shared glance at the cubbies, and every heâd âslacked offâ just thinking about you.
"You're soaked," he finally spoke, his hand practically moving on its own to catch the doorframe, stepping aside. "Come in. Just for a moment. Iâll get you a towel."
âKento, I shouldnât itâs fineââ but his voice is coming in with a soft and desperate whisper.
âPlease.â
Itâs nothing but a whisper, buts itâs the most honest thing thatâs fell from his mouth in years.
The next thing you know, youâre stepping inside, dim light above the entryway. The doors clicking shut behind you, blocking out the sound of the rain and rest of the world.
Just the two of you. In his house.
Totally not nerve wracking.
He slyly took the purse from your hands, setting it down against the kitchen island without a second thought.
The atmosphere in the large home suddenly becoming extremely suffocating. He didnât even go get the towel.
He stayed right there, looming over you with that weary and intense look in his eye. His hand make its way up your jawâtracing til he made it to your lips, thumb resting right there.
â..A-all day,â he swallows, wanting to bite his own tongue. âIâve been trying to ignore this feeling. Trying to convince myself that going this far would be nothing but a distraction,â he murmurs, his face just inches away from yours.
Your jaw tightens, blinking up at him. âAnd did you..?â You whisper.
âNot at all.â He murmurs before capturing your lips in a heated kiss, everything screaming for him to stop, but he canât.
âNot tonight..â heâs hoisting you up, walking toward his bedroom. âJust this onceâŠI canât.â
Kensley chose you.
You were important to her, so whyâd heâd have to go and fuck it up the next morning?
He watched you, blown away by just pretty you looked asleep. But then his eyes trail the picture of he and Kensley on his nightstand, then to his briefcase.
Iâm losing my edge. Iâm going to ruin her life.
He gently tapped you awake before getting up from the side of the bed. âYou.. you need to leave.â His voice was firm, back turned toward you as he looked through his closet.
You sat up, âWhat?â You blink, the sheets held up to your breast. âNanami..whatâs wrong?â
âYou just need to leave y/n, alright? My supervisor has been on me about being distracted. Iâm a father before anything else and I need to be able to provide for Kensley. And with this..little thing we had going on? It was a mistake. It wasnât supposed to mean anything beyond a moment of weakness.â
He finally looks at you, jaw clenched tight, dread in eyesâyou can see it. âIâm drawing the line here. We return to having a parent and teacher dynamic, nothing more.â
He watches the way your face contorts, holding back tears.
âPlease, just go.â
And youâre quick to hop out of his bedroom and grab your things from the floor and throw them on, hurt deep in your heart.
You shouldâve known this would go awry.
Over the weekend, Nanamiâs distraught. This was for the best right?
No more distractions and no more putting his all into something he gave up on years ago. Yeah, he was doing the right thing.
But when heâs dropping off Kensley that Monday, youâre not in your classroom. In fact, thereâs a new teacher in your classroom. All your colorful wallpaper and toys are gone.
Daddy?â Kensleyâs tugging at the sleeve of his suit. âWhereâs ms. L/n?â
But he canât answer, he doesnât even know himself.
Kensley was anxious, her little fingers tight around two of his. âWhys that lady here!â She whines, looking around.
Just then thereâs another kindergarten teacher walking up to the both of them, explaining where you had gone and why youâd quit. It doesnât seem that serious to quit, but it was.
And once the teacher left? Kensley began to sob. âItâs all your fault daddy!â She screamed, unwrapping her little fingers from him and hitting him against his legs.
âAll your fault!â
And Nanamiâs taken aback. âYou were being mean to her, I saw you smiling at your phone and then you started to be all grumpy again! You made her go away!â
Nanami just stood there whilst others parents stopped to look at the both of them during this outburst.
He had listened to his bossâwho he now realizes doesnât give a shit about his well being, just that he preforms well to make the company look good. He just now realizes that he had now broken the heart of the one person who did.
He had chosen to build on his relationship with work instead of potentially building one with you.
kissmyglxck â donât copy my work, ask to translate, & if you recreate anything pls tag me <3