i love doctor boba eyes

Mady | 20s | She My Art Museum (Filled with fanfics and fan art that I love)

[ballard96]

[buckysouvenir]

the out ⌇ "I'm giving you an out, Bucky. Take it." ⤷ longer version of not enough

After another date, you and Bucky found yourselves glued to each other as you made your way into your room.

You locked the door as his mouth left little kisses along your neck.

"You know, um..." you close your eyes and bite back a smile. "There's this new coffee place a block from here. We could go get breakfast there tomorrow before you head home."

He immediately stops, and you feel his body freeze behind you.

You open your eyes and turn around slowly. "What's wrong?" you ask, and start kissing him slowly.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"What isn't? Breakfast?" you laugh lightly, but stop when he doesn't react the same way. Your hands rise to his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

He takes a deep breath. "I guess we need to talk again."

"About what?"

"About... us."

"What about us?" you say, leaving little kisses all over his face and neck.

"It's just... I know you want things. I'm not going to give you those things." His hands are now gripping your waist.

"I don't want other things."

"Yes, you do," he says, taking your hands off his shoulders.

You groan and start pacing.

"You know, I don't understand men. When we want something more, you're all so quick to try to make us forget about it, but when we want something we know we'll never get, so we just accept whatever it is you're willing to give, apparently that's still not good enough," you sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall. "Neither of us is in the mood anymore, so you should go."

You start walking toward your bed and feel his hand catch your wrist.

"Please..." he says, almost a whisper.

"I'm giving you an out, Bucky. Take it," you say, lifting his hand off your wrist and placing it on his shoulder as you press a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight." You give him a small smile and go sit on your bed, pretending to busy yourself with the clasp of your heels.

He walks toward the door and pauses for a second as his hand reaches the handle. Soon enough, he walks out of the room and closes the door behind him.

As soon as you hear it click shut, you throw yourself onto your bed. Your eyes close as you feel a tear rising.

If this were a book or a movie, he would turn around, press his lips to yours, and tell you he'd never need an out, that he only needed you. But this isn't one of the many fantasies in your head, and he warned you about that. Hell, you knew it before he ever said a word, you thought.

But it's just easier to pretend to forget something until you actually do, and fall for it anyway.

And it had been so easy, falling for him.

The next morning came slow and grey, the kind of morning that seemed to match exactly how you felt.

You didn't cry the whole night, not really. You'd stopped yourself somewhere around midnight, telling yourself you were being dramatic over a man who had never once promised you forever. He warned you. He always warned you. That was supposed to make it hurt less, somehow, knowing it was coming. It didn't.

You went through your day like you always did. Coffee first, though not at the new place down the block, because that felt like a joke you weren't ready to laugh at yet. Then training, because Natasha didn't care about broken hearts when there was a schedule to keep, and honestly, you were grateful for that. It gave you somewhere to put all the frustration sitting heavy in your chest.

"You're hitting harder than usual," Natasha said, catching your wrist mid swing before you drove your fist straight into the mat where her head had just been. "Something happen?"

"Nothing happened," you said, stepping back and shaking out your hand. "That's kind of the problem."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't push. That was one of the things you liked about her. She knew when to let something sit.

Bucky wasn't at breakfast. He wasn't at lunch either. You told yourself you weren't looking for him, even as your eyes kept drifting toward the door every time it opened.

Steve found you in the kitchen around dinner time, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea you weren't really drinking.

"He's been in the gym since six this morning," Steve said, not quite looking at you, like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to bring it up at all.

"Good for him," you said, and even you could hear how flat it sounded.

Steve sighed and sat down across from you. "He told me a little. Not much. You know how he is."

"Yeah, I know how he is." You wrapped both hands around your mug. "He's the guy who kisses me like I'm the only thing keeping him steady, and then reminds me he can't give me anything more the second I mention breakfast."

"That's not fair," Steve said gently. "Not to him."

"I'm not trying to be fair, Steve. I'm trying to survive a Tuesday."

He gave you a small, sad smile at that. "For what it's worth, he's not doing much better than you are. He's just better at hiding it behind a punching bag."

You didn't say anything to that. You didn't know what there was to say.

Three days passed like that. Careful hallway nods. Empty seats at the same long table. A silence between you that felt louder than anything either of you had ever said out loud.

On the fourth night, you couldn't sleep. You found yourself on the common floor balcony, the city lights spread out below you, the air cool enough to make you wrap your arms around yourself. You didn't hear him come out until his voice broke the quiet.

"Can't sleep either?"

You turned, and there he was, hands in his pockets, hair a little messy like he'd been running his fingers through it all night. He looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with missions.

"Guess not," you said, turning back to the view so you wouldn't have to look at him too long.

He walked over and stood beside you, close but not touching, like he wasn't sure he had the right to be close anymore.

"I've been thinking," he said finally.

"That's dangerous," you said, and it came out softer than you meant it to, almost fond despite yourself.

He huffed out something close to a laugh. "Yeah. Probably."

Silence again, but different this time. Not empty. Waiting.

"I told you I couldn't give you certain things," he said, staring straight ahead at the skyline. "And I meant it, when I said it. I've spent so long telling myself I don't get to have the normal stuff. Breakfast dates. Someone waiting for me. A life that looks like anything other than surviving. I told myself that was gone for me a long time ago, and I got real good at believing it."

You stayed quiet, letting him get there in his own time.

"But I've been sitting with that punching bag for three days telling myself I did the right thing, and it still feels like the worst decision I've ever made. And I've made some genuinely terrible decisions in my life, so that's saying something."

That pulled a small, surprised laugh out of you, one you didn't quite mean to let go of.

He finally turned to look at you. "I'm not scared of not being enough for you. I think I'm scared of finding out I could be, and losing it anyway. It felt safer to walk away first."

"Bucky."

"I know it's not fair to you. I know I don't get to almost lose you and then show up on a balcony asking for another chance like it's that simple."

"So why are you here?"

He stepped closer, close enough now that you had to tilt your head up to look at him. "Because you said something about a coffee place a block from here. And I have spent three days thinking about breakfast with you more than I've thought about anything in the last several years combined."

Your chest tightened, that same fragile hope from the other night creeping back in despite every warning you'd given yourself.

"I don't need an out," he said quietly, echoing the words you'd handed him days ago, like he'd carried them around this whole time. "I never did. I think I just needed to remember that I'm allowed to want something good. And I want you. All of it. Breakfast, and mornings, and whatever else comes after that."

For a second you just stood there, searching his face for any trace of doubt, and finding none.

"You're sure?" you asked, quiet, careful, because you'd learned the hard way not to hand your heart over without asking first.

"I've never been more sure of anything," he said, and then he was reaching for you, one hand coming up to cup your face the way he did when he wanted you to know he meant every word.

He pressed his lips to yours, slow and certain, nothing like the rushed, heated kisses from the other night. This one felt like an apology and a promise all at once.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing a little unsteady.

"For the record," you whispered, a smile finally breaking through, "that coffee place opens at eight."

He laughed, the real kind, the kind that reached his eyes. "Then I guess I better not be late."

And for once, the fantasy in your head and the moment in front of you looked exactly the same.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

give me fever

✦Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!✦

✦summary: you and Bucky hate each other, so it's not unusual for him to act cold around you. but this is differant. this is... feral. and you're starting to wonder what's wrong✦

✦warnings/tags: bucky barnes x female!reader, enemies to lovers, ragebating Bucky Barnes, emotional angst, everyone's bad at feelings, fluff, sex pollen, sex pollen level smut, a little plot for the porn (dry humping, manhandling, bucky's feral, emotional sex, dry orgasm, truly foul dirty talk, hyperspermia, pussy eating like crazy, fingering, dumbification, dirty talk, sensitive reader, finger sucking, bucky gets nasty, body worship, overstimulation, sex pollen stamnia, mean!bucky, oral f!recieving, begging, praise kink, monster dick bucky, he fucks like a machine, breeding kink), no use of y/n, no descrption of reader✦

✦wc: 11.1k✦

✦Author's Note: i'm so normal about sex pollen✦

It doesn’t bother you. If you tell yourself enough, you’re really going to believe that it doesn’t bother you.

But he’s everywhere. 

There isn’t a corner of the damn building without Bucky Barnes. You go to the kitchen and he’s there making a sandwich, watching you move around the counter like he thinks you’re going to bite him. In the gym he’s at the weights and the punching bags, and you try to ignore him but he grunts and moans and you think he’s doing it on purpose. the living area he takes over the TV and watches whatever he wants to catch up with the times. No matter how politely you ask him to switch to something else, he always tells you to just wait. Then you try, but he’s spread out on the couch until your knees have to bump, and your face gets all hot, and you have to stomp away before you start acting on all your stupid thoughts.

Because it’s not just Bucky’s eternal presence and stubbornness and smirking that burrows under your skin. It’s that you like it.

That when you’re next to him on the couch, all you can think about is that place where your body’s connect. He’s warm. Tall and warm. Your skin tingles at the contact point, and whenever he shifts it’s like you’re being shot up with a drug.

“You’re squirmy.” He grumbles, glaring at you in the dark. “No one ever teach you to sit still?”

You stick your tongue out. “No one ever teach you to mind your own business?”

“Hard to mind my business when you’re movin’ all the cushions, doll-“

“Then go sit somewhere else, robot man.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “I’m not a robot.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not-“

“You act like one.” You snap, and Bucky closes his eyes. Like he’s fucking praying.

“I was here first.” He mutters. You don’t balk.

“Congratulations.”

You hold his glare, and Bucky lets out a heavy breath through his nose. He narrows his eyes, tongue flicking over his lips. His full lips. Pretty and chapped, but in the perfect, soft way-

Get a fucking grip.

“There’s a chair over there.” You point across the room, sinking back into the cushions. “Go sit in it, if I’m so squirmy.”

Bucky scowls, and opens his mouth, but whatever jab he’s got for you, you don’t want to hear it. You reach over and unpause the movie—probably another one of Sam’s this is what you gotta catch up on, Barnes suggestions, because there’s no way Bucky picked out the Goonies himself—and fix your glower on the TV screen. You hate this movie. You’re going to watch it all the way through, just to show Bucky that he doesn’t bother you.

You spread your own legs wide, too. If men are allowed to do it, so are you. Bucky grunts as your knee pushes over his thigh, and you smirk at the TV.

It has nothing to do with the thick muscle you can feel under his sweatpants, that you keep your legs like that for the rest of the night. Bucky’s fingers flex a few times, and brush over the inner curve of your knee and the top of your thigh, like he’s thinking about just shoving you away. At one point, you hear him grunt, and look over with mockingly raised brows.

“Everything okay?” You almost simper, and he grunts and nods.

That’s all you get. Bucky fixes his anger on the movie, you win this round, and you get to be close to him without thinking about it.

You’ll think about it later. In the comfort of your own bedroom, you’ll think about it and think about it and think about it all night. You’ll think about it until your wrist hurts. But Bucky doesn’t get to know that.

As far as he needs to be concerned, you never spare him a second thought. It’s all he spares you. And you’re not going to be the pathetic girl who falls for someone who only thinks of her as a buzzing gnat around his head. Who worships the ground of a man who would step on her like a flower into concrete, not because he was seeking to hurt, but just because he didn’t notice you were there at all.

Although Bucky does seem to notice where you are.

The farmer does like to keep track of pests in his crops.

“You skipped the mission briefing.” Bucky grunts in the morning, glaring at you over a cup of coffee.

Something soft in you swells like a prodded bruise. He noticed where you were.

You ignore it in favor of flipping him off.

“I was busy.”

“Too busy for your job?”

“It’s not my job-“

“Your name was on the roster.” Bucky slams the folder down on the table, and your lips twitch.

“Have you been carrying that around all day?”

“That doesn’t matter-“

“Yes, it really does-“

Bucky hisses your name. There’s a fury under his tone, that makes your mouth snap shut. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You need to be there, Steve was talkin’ about safety shit, and if you don’t know it you could get killed-“

“I know how mission briefing work, I’ve been here longer than you have-“

“Really? ‘Cause you don’t act like it-“

“I don’t act like it?” You snort. “Last I checked I’m ranked higher than you, Sargent.” You raise your chin, letting your lips curl. “Which is why I’m allowed to defer missions, and you’re not.”

Bucky blinks, recoiling slightly. “Defer? What, you-“

“I’m skipping.” You shrug, grabbing an apple from the counter. “And if I’m skipping, I don’t need to be at the briefing. But thanks for checking on me, dad.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. You expect him to snap something about experience and you not being responsible enough or needing to care more.

But instead his fists curl and uncurl at his side. His nostrils flare. He grabs the counter, his scowl burning right through you. You take a large bite of your apple, and his gaze darts down. Juice drips down your chin, and you wipe it off with light fingers. That only seems to make him angrier.

“Why’re you skipping.”

You shrug. You should say none of your business. But part of you is childish. A very big, loud part that wants him to react to something you know he isn’t actually going to care about.

“I have a date.”

“A what.” It’s not a full reaction. He’s mostly staring at you like he didn’t understand the word. Maybe they called it something different in the 40s.

“A date?” You roll your eyes, a little meaner than you mean to be. He always bring that out in you, though.

Bucky always brings everything out in you. It’s incredibly annoying.

“You know.” You push mockingly. “Where you go out with someone. And flirt like people, instead of robots.”

“Robots flirt.” Bucky grunts, and you snort.

“Yeah, but they don’t have sex-“

The counter cracks. It’s loud, echoing through the kitchen. You start and twitch, and Bucky blinks at his metal hand, like he’s just as surprised as you are. He looks back to you, shakes his head, and takes a large step back.

“What’s-“

“Steve’s callin’ me.” He mutters, and you blink.

“No, he’s not-“

“Have fun.” Bucky ignores you. His words sound pushed through his teeth. “On your human date.”

Then he’s gone.

And you’re left in the kitchen with your apple and a cracked counter, staring at where he’d vanished through the door. You don’t care about the date.

You just need to know what the fuck that was.

There’s a part of you that feels bad, for the man Natasha set you up with. She’d picked him out specifically because he had a vague resemblance to Bucky—because you’ve never told her your secret, but you didn’t need to, she’s Natasha—but it wasn’t enough.

He didn’t have the underlying accent, or the gleam in his eyes. You made a sharper edged joke, and he just laughed. He didn’t spar. He didn’t push your buttons in a way that made you light up. He just smiled at you all night—wrong smile, too—and then didn’t pay. Bucky would’ve paid.

You have no evidence of that. It’s just a feeling, that comes from how he still opens doors for you, even when you’re at each other’s throats. All polite and handsome and insufferable. You hate him.

And there’s not a single point during the night, where you’re not thinking about him.

“We should do this again.” The Date—you’ve forgotten his name, and it’s certainly not a good time to ask—says at the end of the night.

You’re shivering. Bucky would’ve offered you his jacket. He did once, on a mission in the Andes. You got all cold and he rolled his eyes and muttered that he told you to bring another layer, but still gave you his jacket all the same. This man is just grinning at you after not calling you a cab and saying he wanted to stand outside in the misty, chilly night. He said he wanted fresh air, and now your freezing, and he thinks he’s getting a second date.

At the very least, you feel a little less guilty about only thinking of Bucky and the mission the whole time. He deserved it.

“Sure.” You smile, because even with superstrength, it’s easier to tell a man yes and then vanish than it is to deny them to their face. “Have a good night.”

He tries to hug you. Your phone buzzes, and you duck away to check it.

The mission is over.

Two days early.

Your jaw tightens.

Most people would think that a job being done early is a good thing. That it means the team was just so focused and coordinated that they sped through every single step, and ended in a total victory. But you’ve been on this job too long. Early mission conclusions only ever happen for one reason.

Something went wrong, and they have to come back.

You rush back to the compound with barely a goodnight to the Date. It’s mostly because you forget, in the blur of worry. You’d skimmed the mission files before they left, just to make sure it wasn’t anything too dangerous. Bucky had been mad about you not going with them. Maybe he’d thought they’d need the hands, but it had just looked like a retrieval mission. Old Hydra facility with some data Tony wanted. Nothing too hard.

But they’re back early.

And if someone’s hurt, you could’ve stopped it. You could’ve been there, instead of on that stupid fucking date. Which also means that Bucky was right, and that’s incredibly annoying. He’s going to weild it over your head, and the mocking is going to turn you on more, and you’ll have earned it which isn’t going to help anything at all. 

You get back to the compound, and it’s not in lockdown. There aren’t med staff flooding the grounds or emergency sirens blaring. You go right to the hanger, and find that it’s already been cleared out. The jet isn’t being quarantined.

Maybe they really did just… Finish early.

You’re heading back to your room when you slam right into them.

Steve and Bucky, standing in the middle of the hall, arguing in hushed voices.

“You need to go, Buck-“

“I’m fine-“

“No, you’re not. You can lie to the docs, don’t lie to me-“

“I ain’t lyin’, I’m fine-“

Your too lost in your own head, barely even hearing what they’re saying. You barrel straight into Bucky’s back.

He goes rigid. You stumble a little, and he grabs your upper arm.

His hand is hot.

Not sexy hot—although it’s also that—but literally, physically hot. Almost searing, against your shivering skin. You look up at him, and swallow.

He’s flushed. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and an exhausted shadow over his features. His eyes are so blown out they’re almost fully black. You blink at him, and his mouth falls open in a ragged pant.

“Hi.” You whisper.

His throat bobs. “You’re back.”

“I- I got the alert.” You glance over to Steve, who’s gone oddly pale. “Did the mission go okay? It was fine that I wasn’t there, right-“

“Yep!” Steve almost shouts, and you blink. “I mean- We were all good. Wish you were there, we all missed you, but- We were fine. Right, Buck?” Steve grabs Bucky’s shoulder. “We were all good.”

Bucky doesn’t look away from you for a single second. He grunts, and his grip tightens on your arm.

“Let go.” Steve mutters, and Bucky shoots him a glare.

He releases you like you burned him, then wipes his hand on his pants. You scowl. He was the one touching you.

“I was gonna.” He grumbles, and Steve sighs.

“I know, but-“ You get a weary look. Like Steve doesn’t want you to hear their conversation. “I think- You know what I think-“

“Steve-“ Bucky cuts himself off with a groan, running a hand over his face.

He still hasn’t looked away from you. Or moved that far out of your proximity.

“I’m fine.” He says, low and under his breath. You’re rooted to the ground under his gaze, unsure what you could even think of to say. “It’s- I’m fine.”

Steve’s lips press in a thin line. Bucky takes a large, jerking step back. Like he’s dragging himself away.

“How was your date?” He grunts.

“Bucky-“

“I’m just askin’ a question.” He snaps, still not sparing Steve a look.

The attention is getting to be too much. Bucky is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, and it’s making your body almost buzz in anticipation. You want to jump on him and feel those hot hands all over your body. His nostrils flare like he can smell your arousal. If he can, you might jump off a bridge.

You hope he’d catch you, then fuck you until your can’t even walk.

Get a fucking grip.

“Bad.” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. “He sucked.”

And that’s the kind of thing Bucky would usually mock you for. Skipping a mission just for a bad date.

But a low, rumbling growl falls from his chest. His tongue darts over his lips. He takes a half-step forward, and you lean in to the gravity of his stare.

“We have debriefing!” Steve shouts, grabbing the collar of Bucky’s suit. “Bye!”

Before you can even register it, Steve’s dragging Bucky down the hall. You swear you hear another feral noise, and a crash after they turn the corner.

Something had to have happened on the mission. You just have no fucking clue what.

Bucky’s only been acting stranger. You’d pretend it didn’t bother you, if you could get away from it for a single fucking second.

You walk through the compound, and he’s somehow more everywhere than he was before. Around every corner, in the library, on the grounds, even in the control room while you’re going through the mission files.

“What’re you doin’.” He grunts, and you sigh.

You’re not surprised he’s there. It’s the fifth time today that he’s snuck up on you.

“I’m going through the reports on the mission.” You drawl. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around?”

Bucky grunts. It seems to be a no. You roll your eyes and go back to poking through the system. It’s hard to pretend that you can’t feel his presence behind you. There’s heat almost rolling from his body, and thick, spicy and musky scent that’s filling the room. It’s making you a little dizzy. It’s all you can do, not to look back at him.

That would be dangerous. He probably still looks feverish and animalistic. You might moan.

You find the files for the mission, and try to open them. Big, read access denied, contact your handler for permission to these files flashes over your screen. Your mouth falls open, and you whip back to glare at Bucky before you can think about it.

Mistake. Just like you’d thought, big mistake.

He looks even worse and better than you thought. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and sweats, and they’re clinging to his sweaty body. His eyes are hooded and his lips are parted. His attention is so wholly fixed on you that it almost makes you fall out of your chair. You almost forget you’re annoyed with him. Every single nerve in your body is alight, and your fingers are itching to comb through his sweaty hair.

You somehow—just barely—fight it.

“Why can’t I access these files.”

Bucky leans over you, his nostrils flaring. If you reach up, you could trace the stubbled line of his jaw. It’s hard to maintain your glare.

“Barnes-“

“You weren’t on the mission.” He mutters. “Not your files to see.”

You scowl. “I can access the files of every other mission I was on-“

“Steve should change that.”

God, you wish he wasn’t so pretty. It would be easier to think about punching him.

“I know something happened out there.” You hiss, sitting up a little taller. “You can’t hide it from me. I’ll figure it out.”

Bucky chuckles. It’s a low, raspy sound that runs through your body, making you shiver.

“Sure, doll. Have fun with that.”

You shoot to your feet, and Bucky lurches back. Another one of those deep, rumbling growls rolls from his chest, and for a second you think he’s going to pounce on you.

And then you blink, and he’s gone. Leaving you with only that hazy smell, and desire rolling through your veins.

You wish that was the extent of it, but it’s barely the start. And it only gets worse.

Bucky doesn’t do his movie nights anymore, which means you get the TV all to yourself. You watch what you want, and try not to look at the spot next to you. Where your body feels like he’s supposed to be. You stretch out your legs, but they ache strangely without his touch. You get more restless without him. Around midnight, you shuffle to the kitchen, hoping one of those soothingherb thingys that Wanda says help with her nightmares will be there.

Instead, you find Bucky. 

He’s drinking a glass of ice, with a little bit of water. He freezes when he sees you, and moves further behind the counter.

You sigh. You’re too tired to fight him.

“Can’t sleep?” You mumble.

He just nods.

You sigh, and walk over the cupboard.

“You want hot chocolate?”

A grunt. Better than silence. You make two mugs, one for you, one for Bucky.

And maybe it’s just that you’re really starting to worry, but you don’t bother pretending to hate him. Your fingers brush when you pass him his mug, and his body seizes like you shocked him, but you just offer a tiny smile.

His mouth falls open. He stares at you like he’s spent years only looking at the muddier reflection of stars in the water, and has finally thought just to tilt his head up. You let out a small, shaking breath. He’s still burning up. You can feel it from your place a foot away. But you don’t dare to push it.

Not when he’s looking at you like this. The way you’d always, secretly and shamefully, dreamed he would.

“I’m watching Star Wars.” You mumble. “You wanna…”

You trail off, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

He nods again. A new tendril of worry blooms, overlapping with the growing tangle of them in your gut. He might not be able to speak.

But he follows you to the living area, and takes his place on the couch. His knee pushes against yours. He’s breathing awfully shallow, but you’re a selfish coward that wants him close, so you don’t mention it.

You barely pay attention to the movie. All you can focus on is Bucky at your side. How he doesn’t even seem to be sparing the TV a glance. He’s not really touching you, save for that place where your thighs are always pushed together, but every time you shift he grabs your knee. You blink at him, and his throat just bobs. He still hasn’t said a word. You’re afraid that when he does, it will break this fragile illusion.

That he wants to be here.

Near you.

He passes out near the end of the movie. His head falls against your shoulder and his body goes limp, almost a blanket over yours. You don’t move, just staring at a lit up, black screen. He looks more peaceful than you’ve ever seen. His fever isn’t breaking, but it does seem to be easing. You run your fingers through his hair, and he makes a low sound like a purr.

Then he takes a deep inhale, right against the crook of your neck, and a different noise leaves him.

It’s almost a moan.

You swallow. Suddenly you need to move. You don’t know what’s going on with him, but this can’t be what he actually wants. To be asleep almost in your arms, purring and moaning. That’s not a part of him you get to have.

But when you try to move, his grip around you tightens.

You feel almost sick.

It takes almost an hour, to roll off the couch without him pulling you back. When you’re free, you still cover him in a blanket and press a hand to his brow. Just to check. You can’t really help it.

His fever is building again.

You wish he would just tell you what was wrong. Even if he thinks you hate him, he can’t think you wouldn’t care enough to help.

When you start to walk away, he moans again. You could swear it sounded a little like your name.

You force yourself to go to bed. You’re not sure if you want him to remember in the morning.

If anything, you just pray he gets better. It’s hard to hide your undying care for him, when he’s in pain. Impossible to ignore how much it bothers you, that he’s hurting. ‘

But it is Bucky.

And he’s never going to make anything that easy.

You walk out of your room in the morning, and he’s right there. Lingering in the hallway, staring at you with those blown-out eyes, working his jaw like he’s trying to bite his own tongue off.

“Hi.” You say lamely.

He stumbles back like you punched him. “You- You’re-“

“Bucky, are you-“

“’M fine.” He says it mostly to himself again. There’s sweat gathering on his brow and bags under his eyes.

You’re not going to tell him, but you’re getting worried. This is the third morning in a row you’ve found him here. The first night you asked if he’d slept there, and he’d scowled and stomped away.

But from the look of him, you don’t think he’s been sleeping at all.

“Do you need something?” You ask. You sound soft, but you can’t help it. The worse he looks, the more your heart tightens. “I can call Steve-“

“Don’t get Steve.” He steps back. The same jerked movement from the first night. It’s the only way he’s been moving around you, lately. “I’m fine.”

You give him a doubtful look. His tongue flicks over his lips. You take a step forward, and he takes another step back. Like you’ve got a polarity field around you. Like he can’t even stand to breathe the same air.

And yet he’s here. Outside your door, and breathing through his mouth like an animal.

“Bucky-“

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, stumbling another step back. “Just- Don’t.”

You swallow, and don’t give chase when he walks away. Jogs away. He yanks himself away, then runs like he thinks you’re going to catch him and drag him back. You won’t.

But you do go right to Steve.

“What happened on the mission.”

Steve flinches, gagging on his sandwich. You’re glaring down at him with your hands on your hips, and you think he knows his little charming smile isn’t going to work on you here. That doesn’t seem to stop him from trying anyway.

“Hey, um- Do you want a cookie-“

“Steven.” You hiss, and he swallows. “What happened.”

Steve winces, avoiding your gaze. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”’

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to tell me-“

“I mean I- I can.” He mutters. “But then Bucky will kill me. And I don’t want Bucky to kill me.”

You scowl. “Tough shit, because guess who’s going to kill you if you don’t tell me?”

Steve sighs. “Is it you?”

“Yep.”

He stares at his sandwich, like it’s somehow going to get him out of this situation. You wait for him to realize it won’t. You have plenty of time.

“I’m really not supposed to tell you-“

“I really don’t care.”

“Well- You will.” Steve looks up with a sad little puppy eyes.

You don’t have the same reservations about punching him in the face, that you have with Bucky. He’s basically asking for it right now.

“Steven, I swear to fucking God-“

“I can’t tell you.” He cuts you off with a shake of his head, and you scoff.

“No, you just won’t tell me-“

“That’s not- I can’t, okay? Please stop asking me to-“

“Why, because Bucky doesn’t want you to?” You leer. “Because last I checked, you’re the Captain. And if Bucky is your friend, you should be telling his teammates he’s in danger so they can help-“

“That’s the problem!” Steve shouts, and you blink. “You- Look, you’re going to want to help, and I can’t let you.”

“You can’t let me help?” You echo, and Steve winces.

“I know how it sounds-“

“Do you? Because what I’m fucking hearing that your best friend is in danger, and you won’t let me fucking help-“

“Why do you even want to help?” Steve fixes you with a pointed look. “All you ever do is complain about Bucky and how he’s annoying you. I would’ve thought you didn’t care.”

You narrow your eyes, and Steve raises his brows. You know what he’s doing. Smug fucking asshole. 

“That won’t work on me.” You grunt, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve-“

“But,” he says causally. “If I did, I’d say that’s why I can’t tell you. And you know that.”

You hate it when he speaks in riddles. Like you’re just supposed to read between the lines when your brain is fogged with worry about Bucky.

“I- I don’t-“ You let out a slow breath, looking down to your shoes. Heat is flooding your cheeks. It’s annoying. “It’s not- I’m just- Please.”

Your voice cracks suddenly. You’ve been losing more sleep over this than you’re ever going to tell anyone. You almost feel ill with it—like the worry is an infection, knotting up your stomach and making your heart pick up—but that might just literal exhaustion. Something happened. No one will tell you what. It’s making you feel useless and hopeless and torn up to tiny, useless shreds.

“Bucky.” You say slowly. “Is- He’s not okay. I know he’s not okay.” You force yourself to meet Steve’s gaze. “Just- Lie to me and say he’s fine, and fix it, or tell me and let me help. But I- I can’t just-“

You don’t even know how to finish the sentence. There’s a burning feeling behind your eyes and a lump in your throat. You’re so worried. Worried this is something that’s going to kill him, and you’re going to lose him forever.

And there’s pity, in Steve’s gaze. It’s enough to make him break, his voice softening completely.

“Alright.” He murmurs. “But- You can’t tell him I told you.”

You nod quickly. “I’ll say I just got into the files, or- Something- Please.”

Steve sighs. “Okay. Okay.” He shakes his head. “It was on the mission. Bucky was distracted the whole time, and when we got jumped he wasn’t being controlled with his punches. He swag to hard on an Hydra agent. Knocked them back into some vials, and- Well they burst. All over both of them. We put the agent in containment, but he was displaying worse symptoms. Bucky- I think it’s the serum, or just… Bucky. But he’s been controlling it better.” Steve grimaces. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not still knocked up with stuff.”

You nod slowly. That’s not that bad.

But Steve didn’t want you to know for a reason.

“What are the symptoms?”

Steve won’t meet your gaze. “Fever. Nausea. Hormone flares. Um- Increased… libido.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open. “What.”

“Hydra makes some weird stuff. Tony thinks this was, um- A breeding drug. We don’t know why they were developing it, but- There’s no other name.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. “The agent- His cell is disgusting.”

“But- Bucky-“

“I told you, he says he’s got it under control.” Steve shrugs, but doesn’t really sound like he’s convinced himself. “The agent has been, ah… begging for anyone. Bucky doesn’t have the same liberty with what will help. He says it’s going to pass, and he’ll be fine.”

“And will it?” You breathe. “Pass?”

Steve shrugs. “It did for the agent.”

“Before or after the mating?”

Steve’s silence is an answer. You swear under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this, Steve? We- We need to get him to someone, this could fucking kill him-“

“I know that!” Steve snaps. “I know that just as well as you do! As he does! But- Jesus.” He shakes his head. “He won’t take anyone. He’ll only- Well- You know.”

“I know? I don’t fucking know, none of you have been telling me shit-“

Steve says your name plainly. You blink.

“What-“

“Nothing. Just- Why do you think he’s been lingering around you?”

You stare at him. He raises his brows, and you swallow.

“Steve-“

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Yes, you did-“

“Nope.”

You press your lips in a tight line. He can’t mean what you think he means. That would be to easy. Too good. “Bucky- He doesn’t- That’s not how he feels about me.”

Please don’t say it is. It’s not fair if you’re lying.

“Funny.” Steve shrugs. “He says the same thing about you.”

This is a bad idea.

Bucky hasn’t left his room in a day. You’d spent all of last night replaying your conversation with Steve, trying to pick it apart for a single reason he didn’t mean what you thought he did. What you hoped he did. What you’d always hoped for, only in the dead of night where no one would ever find out.

But it didn’t matter how you turned or picked at Steve’s words. There was only one conclusion. The beautiful, horrible one that you can’t even fully wrap your head around. It would mean you spent years hating him for no reason. Year thinking about kissing his stupid face, when you could’ve been actually kissing him. If Steve’s right, you’re going to kill Bucky.

After you fix this for him.

If Steve means what you think, you can fix this for him. He just has to let you.

Which is why this is a horrible idea. If Bucky turns you down, you’re going to have to quit your job and change your name and  move to Indonesia.

But if he doesn’t turn you down…

You steel yourself and knock on Bucky’s door. It’s worth the risk, just for him. Always just for him.

“Fuck off, Stevie-“

“I’m not Steve!” You call, and for a second there’s no response. 

Then there’s a muffled banging, and you almost fall forward when Bucky yanks the door open.

He looks even worse than before. And better. And hotter, and oh God, your knees are already weak.

His shirt is gone, and his broad, muscled chest is shining with sweat. His hair flops over his eyes, mussed up and soft looking. He’s breathing through his nose, even as his swollen mouth hangs open. His metal fist is curled against the door, making the wood crack under his fingers. Standing through his sweatpants is the long, proud outline of his cock.

You swallow, your mouth watering. Bucky says your name, and you can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a plea or a prayer.

“You shouldn’t be here-“

“Steve said you need me.”

You stare at each other. Bucky’s tongue flicks out, and you chew on your lower lip. This is it. If he turns you down, you’ll walk away and live. A new life, across the world. You’ve never been to Indonesia, but you hear they have good food and community, and you’re sure you’ll be able to fit right in over time, and if you don’t at least Bucky will never find you to make you relive this humiliation, because it’s been almost two full minutes and he hasn’t said anything, so you should probably pull out your phone and start researching Indonesian names-

“Steve shouldn’t have told you anything.” Bucky growls, and you swallow.

“I- I made him.”

He sighs. You could swear his dick twitches. “Of course you did.”

“I was worried about you-“

“You don’t have to be, doll. I’m-“

“If you say I’m fine, I’m going to fucking punch you.”

Bucky scowls. You scowl harder. You have a feeling neither of you are going to back down.

“You’re sick.” You say plainly, and Bucky lets out a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Maybe. But it’s not the kinda sick you can help with-“

“Steve says it’s the kind of sick only I can help with.”

He’s silent again. You risk a tiny step forward, and he takes one back, muttering your name. It’s a warning. A plea.

“Don’t do this.” He mutters, fists balled at his side. “Not outta pity, not for me-“

“It’s not pity.” You stop in his doorway, making your voice soft. “I want to help, Bucky. Let me help.”

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, you- You just- You don’t feel like that for me-“

“You don’t feel like that for me.” You breathe, and Bucky’s body locks up.

“Who says?”

“You’re an ass to me-“

“You’re an ass to me.”

“I don’t mean to be.” You whisper. “I- I don’t- I’m not good at… You know.”

Bucky’s throat bobs. He still doesn’t move.

“Me neither.”

You nod. “But…”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah. I do.”

You take a deep breath. His whole room is filled with that musky, spicy smell. The heat is almost rolling off his body.

“Please ask me to help.” You don’t bother to hide the desperation in your voice. He needs to know that you mean it. “I- I want to, Bucky, I want you so bad-“

Bucky muffles your pleas, crashing forward and pressing his mouth over yours.

It’s not the soft, loving kiss of your fantasies. It’s rough and desperate, the kiss of a man finally letting his leash snap. He grabs your neck and scrunches his fingers in your hair, dragging a moan from the back of your throat. It turns into a hungry cry, when he pushes his tongue between your lips. Your knees wobble from the bruising force of it. You grab his shirt for balance, scrunching the fabric between your fingers.

Bucky grunts, pressing further over you. One arm drops to wrap around your waist, and the other slide up to cradle the back of your head. The touch his shockingly gentle, for the demanding way he’s almost eating your kisses. You’re standing nowhere near a wall, but he’s caged you all the same. There’s nothing to do but feel the way his cool, metal fingers dig into your hips, and the unrelenting heat of his mouth.

You kiss until your breathing is ragged. He tastes like mint and salt, and it’s a little addictive. Even after you’re light-headed and whimpering, Bucky sucks on your lower lip and takes just a little more. You whimper, gasping for air that he doesn’t seem to need. He tugs on your hair, forcing you to tip your neck back, and he plants open, hungry kisses over every place he can reach.

“You gotta be sure.” He murmurs against your skin. “Tell me you’re sure, doll, ‘cause- I don’t think I can go easy.”

And oh God, isn’t that lovey thought. Bucky not going easy. Combined with his tongue flicking over a pulse point, you almost fall over from the pure thought of it.

But he’s asking real permission. His hold on your hip is getting tighter, and his shoulders are squared and tense. He’s keeping himself from taking what he really wants, until you give him total permission.

You didn’t know you could want him more.

“I- Oh-“ Your eyes flutter, as he nips on sensitive skin under your jaw before kissing away the hurt. “I’m sure, Bucky, I- I don’t want you to go easy.”

For some reason, that only makes him more tense. He takes an uneven breath, pressing his brow against your head and almost pulling you off your feet as he hugs you tighter. You wait, slowly wrapping your arms around him and dragging your nails soothingly over the nape of his neck.

Bucky draws himself back, his expression unreadable as he scans over your face. You offer him a tiny, nervous smile, and he lets out a shaky laugh.

“You- You got no idea, do you?”

Your face falls to a pout. “I have a lot of ideas-“

“No, you don’t.” He drops his brow over yours. “You got no fuckin’ clue, what you do to me.”

And your brain stalls. It gets all gooey and soft, as you just blink up at him. You’re already on unsteady legs. You never thought he’d catch you if you fell, but with the way Bucky’s looking at you right now, you think he’d dive off a cliff to be at your side.

“Bucky…” You breathe, and he drops his forehead against yours. Your noses bump. His gaze darts between your lips and eyes, and you think you might be burning alive.

“You smell so good.” He mutters, before leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You-“ You almost whimper, when he pulls away. “You imagined?”

He chuckles, kissing just your upper lip. You’re already putty under his hands, and you might turn to just a steam of desire if he doesn’t stop kissing you so softly.

“Didn’t you?”

You nod, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Bet I imagined more.”

And you doubt that, but Bucky’s kissing you again before you can tell him that you imagined so much it scared you sometimes. The way you were sure that you’d never be able to recover, from an addiction to a drug you’d never even taken.

You’re certainly never going to recover now. Kissing Bucky is even better than you’d let yourself dream about. His lips are just as soft as you thought. Even with the way he’s holding himself back, his touch is possessive. He traces your sides like he’s trying to memorize them, and kisses you the same way.

“Got no idea what I’m gonna do to, either.” He rasps against your lips. “If you let me, doll… You shouldn’t- But-“ He groans, pushing his nose into your cheek, kissing over the slope of your jaw. “Fuck, I want you to.”

You want him to. You want to feel those sloppy, devout kisses everywhere, to get that infernal tongue between your legs. His cock is almost bursting through his sweats, protruding into your thigh. He’d be heavy on your tongue, and split you better than the toys that you’ve used in his place before. The ache in your core throbs from just the idea, and you can feel your heart trying to burst all out of your throat with confession of desire and adoration. But you’re not sure if he’s going to believe them.

“Tell me.” You whisper. “Tell me what you’ve dreamed about doing to me.”

Bucky pulls back, and you worry you’ve stepped on an invisible landmine. That you’re going to be shoved out of the room, the door slammed in your face instead of behind you, locking you out of the room you’ve longer to be in since you met him. Bucky stares at you. You open your mouth to apologize and take it back, but he loves to move faster than your lustdrunk mind can understand.

You squeal as he walks you backward, but not out of the room. He kicks his door shut as you pass it. It slams, right as Bucky pins you between against the wall. He kisses you before you can protest or ask questions, and keeps going until you’re squirming against him and unsure if you should pull him closer or push him away. His kisses wander your cheeks, over your nose and hairline and back down to your ear.

“I wanted you just like this.” He chokes out, and your swallow. He sounds wrecked, and you’re not even kissing anymore. “Wanted you everywhere. Would see you in a meetin’ and think about bending you over the table. You’d get under me on the training mats and I’d wanna get in a headlock between your legs. Bet you taste so good.”

He shudders, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His dick has shifted to push right near your core, and it’s almost too much pressure, while not being nearly enough.

“Would sit next to you on the plane and think about gettin’ on my knees.” He rasps, beard ticking against your skin. “Worshipping your pussy like it deserves. Makin’ you- Fuck- Call my name-“

Bucky moans, his hips jerking forward. A tiny moan escapes your lips, and Bucky almost whines and does it again. You don’t think he can help it.

“Wanted to stuff your pretty little lips with my cock.” He thrusts again, his whole weight almost collapses over your body. “You’d get all mouthy and I- I jerk off to the idea of puttin’ you over my knee or gettin’ you lying in my bed. I’d- I’d fuck you so nice, doll, I swear I’d be good, but- Fuuuck-“

He’s rutting between your thighs, and seems to forget the story he’s supposed to be telling you in favor of sucking on your neck. You whimper, pushing your hand between your bodies. Not to stop him—never to stop him—but to wrap your fingers around his cock through his sweats.

Bucky moans, his voice breaking with raw, starved relief. You try to pull him back to kiss him, but he just wraps closer around you. He’s almost shaking. You think he’s trying not to fuck your hand.

You can’t have that.

“It’s okay.” You drag your fingers over the line of his cock, and he whimpers against your neck. “I- I’ve thought about it too.”

Bucky slams forward, and you smile at the air.

“Wanted you to shove me down and fuck me stupid. Wanted to ride you until I passed out. I bought a dildo, baby, just to pretend it was you.”

You use your free hand to pet the back of his head, slowly sliding his sweats down to give yourself better access. Bucky’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping fully around, and whenever your nails graze his balls, he bucks forward with a strangled moan.

“Wasn’t as big.” You breathe, stroking his dick in long, tight motion. “You’re so big, Bucky, I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

He grunts, his teeth grazing your neck. “Gonna- Fuck-“

You squeeze him at the base, and he doubles over. He’s almost fully collapsed against you. You want to feel him come apart.

“Gonna make it fit.” He hisses in your ear, and you hum.

“How?”

“Open you up.” He mutters, words slurred like he’s drunk. “Get you all over me, doll- Wanna watch you cum over and over and- God-“

His dick is twitching, and you giggle. He’s working himself up.

“You think this is funny?” He rasps.

You smile, swiping your thumb over the weeping slit of his dick. “A little. You wanna make me cum but you won’t even touch me.”

He makes an annoyed sound, and tries to push off of you. You tug his cock a little harder, and he falls back over with a moan. You giggle again.

“You- You’re a fuckin’ brat-“

“I’m helping you, Barnes.” You whisper in his ear.

He chuckles, and the sound rolls through your body. “Helpin’ me would be sitting on my face- Fuck-“

Bucky’s whole body shakes, when you squeeze him one last time, and his control slip. You pet him through his orgasm, unsure if you want him to notice how you press your legs tighter to try and get more stains of his cum. He pants and groans against your skin, his lips latching back around that one bruise he seems to be obsessed with.

There’s so much cum. Bucky grinds into your fist, and it just keeps coming and coming and coming until your fingers are sticky and drenched. The idea of him doing that inside you is almost a little terrifying. You’ve never wanted anything more.

A choked sound like your name comes out, muffled against your skin. You smile, leaning back to try and meet his gaze.

Bucky seems to need a second. You hope you didn’t already wear him out.

“You okay?” You whisper, and he tenses.

Bucky pulls back, and your pulse picks up into a drum.

Whatever he’d been before, it had been tame compared to this. His jaw is clenched, his attention fixed on you like a predator. His chest heaves, his hands limp at his side. You swallow, feeling a lot smaller than you did a second ago.

You can’t stop yourself from looking down. It only makes things worse.

He’s bigger than he felt. His cum is dripping down his thigh, and it’s barely been a minute, but he’s already getting hard again. You drag your eyes up the expanse of his chest—all flushed skin and muscle—and realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You lick your lips. He mimics the movement.

“It won’t fit.” You says again, but your tone has lost all the teasing mockery of before.

And Bucky’s smirk is dangerous. A thrill rushes through you at the sight of it. You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Gonna make it fit.” He growls.

You yelp, as he grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You don’t even slam into his chest before he’s lifting you off the ground with another mind numbing kiss. It’s a distraction. You know that. You don’t really care, though, returning it in a second.

Bucky carries you like you’re a doll, your knees bent like some princess and his warmer arm locked around your waist. He leans over, lowering you to the mattress with a shocking care. For a second you’re fully lost in him. The gentle motion of his lips over yours, the way his hands wander and map your body as he settles you into the mattress.

“So soft.” He mutters. “All that bite, doll, but I knew you’d be so fuckin’ soft for me.”

You’d like to protest, and say that you’re not soft. But Bucky’s kisses are making your head spin, and no single, clear word can make it out of the daze. All you manage is a high, long whine.

Bucky chuckles. His hand pushes under your shirt, almost tickling over your sides.

“You like that?” He tease, his knuckles tracing over the underside of your boobs. “You like bein’ my sweet girl?”

You are not sweet. You try to snap that, but it mostly just comes out a feral grumble. You don’t know how he’s the one with a sound mind right now. You’re not under a sex drug.

You’re just under Bucky. Where it’s very, very warm, and sticky, and nice. His cum is dripping over your clothed core and midriff. You shiver as it hits bare skin, and Bucky smirks against your lips.

“Say it and I give you more.” He rasps. “Say you like it.”

And it’s a game. You know that you like it. He does too. But he’s poking and teasing you, trying to get you spar with him. To get you to play.

So you glare at him when he leans back, spreading your legs wider at the same time. You keep your mouth stubbornly shut.

Bucky grins. He traces the curve of your hips with massive hands, his thumb angling to smear his cum over your navel.

“Look at you.” He mocks. “Beggin’ for me and then can’t even admit she likes it.”

You wrinkle your nose, turning up your chin. Bucky smacks your inner thigh, then rubs his metal palm right over your pussy. The sudden sting then harsh pleasure make your hips push off the bed with a cry. Bucky takes his hand away to splay it on your abdomen, shoving you back down.

“You like gettin’ tossed around, too?” He laughs, and heat floods right to your core. “I’ll toss you around, baby. Make you into a nice little cockslut for me, even let you put my in that pretty mouth.”

He grabs your jaw, and you part your lips in a second. Bucky groans, his cock getting impossibly harder.

“Already listen so well.” He mutters, teasing his two forefingers over your mouth. “Just can admit you fuckin’ love it, do you? Can’t be a good girl and tell the truth.”

You narrow your eyes in defiance, and pretend to bite down on his fingers. It’s not a real bite. Just teeth grazing knuckles. But Bucky understands what it means.

Permission to go further.

His eyes gleam. His cock is already leaking with pre-cum.

“Alright, babydoll.” He rubs your thighs, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “Have it your way.”

In a single second, Bucky rips off your clothing like it’s paper. You barely have time to feel the cold of the air before he’s grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach, and dragging your ass up in the air. You yelp, fisting your hands in the sheets, and try to twist and see where he is.

A dazed part of your brain that doesn’t remember his hands on your hips sees no one behind you, and almost freaks out.

Then the first stroke of Bucky’s tongue hits your pussy, and you collapse fully into the sheets.

“Oh my-“ Your eyes roll back, as he teases the very tip of his tongue around your clit before dragging it through your folds. “Oh my God-“

“Sensitive fuckin’ pussy.” Bucky muses, and you feel the stubble of his cheek pressing against you thigh. “Barely even touching it. Wonder if I-“

 His thumb drags circles just around your clit, and you squeak. He kisses the curve of your ass, going a little fast. You whine trying to drag your own ass in circles to match his motions. You can’t see him. Can’t know if you’re doing well outside of his lips tracing your thigh, and the pleased hums against your skin.

Bucky jerks his thumb suddenly to the side, pushing directly over your clit. You scream, your knees sliding back. Bucky grabs them and pushes them back up, fully exposing your pussy to the air.

“Look at you.” His breath is warm, over that most sensitive spot. “Bet I don’t even need to fuckin’ prep you. You’re so wet, you’d just…”

He makes a deep, rumbling sound, and you almost sob as he drags his tongue right back between your puffed pussy lips. You clench around nothing, his stubbled scraping your clit. Bucky angles his face, letting his tongue flick over your clit. It goes back and forth and back and forth, toying with it before pressing flat. He sucks, hard like a lollipop, and you almost sob into the mattress.

“Sweet.” Bucky whispers, his metal arm wrapping around your legs. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Bu- Bucky-“

“Shhh.” He kisses right over your pussy. “Wanna taste, pretty girl. I gotta fuckin’-“ He moans, and the vibration shoots right up your spine. “Gotta taste-“

Bucky presses his face fully into your cunt, and the sound that leaves you almost isn’t human.

He’s good at this. So good at this. It’s a little unfair. Your mouth can’t do anything but hang uselessly open, as Bucky works his jaw against you. He eats you like he’s starved for it. Like he’s a man that wants to drown of an insatiable thirst.

Two hands hold you up in the air, as his tongue plunges ruthlessly in and out of your cunt. You keen, trying to push further back, and the warmer hand wraps up to your spine and shoves your stomach down. It’s a tighter fit like this. Bucky drags his tongue around, and it hits every sensitive area. His beard tickles and scratches, and cold fingers tease your skin.

You get more and more sensitive, with every flick and suck and groan. You’re so wet it’s almost drooling down your legs, mixing with the stains of cum he’d gathered from your midriff and smeared over your legs. The dual heat with his cold hand makes all your nerves stand on end. You pussy clenches again, and Bucky chuckles.

“That’s right.” He mutters, making out with your clit as you gasp for air into the bed. “That’s it, baby, you’re already lettin’ go, aren’t you.”

You whine, and Bucky nips at your ass.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ye- Yes.” You mumble. “’S good, Bucky- So good-“

“I know.” He grunts, pressing his cold, metal thumb down into your clit. “Fuck, baby, I know.”

You whimper, and Bucky starts up on your dripping pussy again. He’s lapping at it, pushing his tongue into your tight hole as he plays with your clit, and white lines your vision.

“I- I’m gonna- Fuck- Bucky-“ You scratch at the sheets. “I’m gonna- Oh God-“

He smacks your clit, spits onto your pussy, and resumes with double the effort. You cry his name, as your orgasm wracks your body. You can feel yourself seizing around him, twitching and writhing in his tight grip as your vision lines with white.

And Bucky doesn’t stop. You’re making a mess all over his face, and he’s rising up, but it’s just pushing you further into the mattress. You whimper, your cunt too sensitive, but he doesn’t even come up for air.

“Shit- Bucky- Oh- Ohhhhh-“

The ache quickly fades into pleasure again. Blinging pleasure that’s just on the wrong side of too much, but pleasure all the same. You squeal, and Bucky just moans against your cunt.

Then you hear it. The slam of his fist against his cock.

He’s jerking off while he eats you out.  He’s fucking himself so hard you can hear it, hear the slap of skin, feel all his little moans and grunts right against your pussy, and the thought sends you right over the edge again.

Bucky moans louder, as you cum on his tongue. Just like before, it seems to make him more and more feral. You have a feeling what lucidity that let him tease you before is gone. He’s eating you out the same way he’s kissed you, with rough lips and a fervor that’s almost animalistic. You’re boneless and whimpering into the sheets, taking it over and over as Bucky just keeps working his mouth against your cunt, and fucking his hand.

Then, suddenly, he’s gone. You whine from the lose, trying to roll over and look at him, but he just shoves you back down with a growl. The sound of his hand is getting faster and faster, and a hot weight drops over your back. Bucky presses his face into your neck, and takes a deep breath. You whimper, and he groans. His hips must be rocking, with how the bed is shaking.

“Smells good.” He rasps. “Gonna- Fuck-“

Bucky snaps back up, and you feel him cum more than you even hear it. Hot ropes spurt over your ass and back, seeping down the back off your thighs and into your pussy. You moan at the sensation, pushing back on trembling hands. There’s always just more of it, until you’re so marked up with him you’re sure you’ll never be able to wash it off.

You don’t want to.

With how Bucky grabs your hips and spreads the stain over your skin, you don’t think he does either.

“Shit.” He breathes out, and you hum in agreement. “Gotta- Flip for me, c’mon-“

Bucky helps you roll over. His touches are gentle again, but the gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded. You blink at him, flat on your back with your legs spread. Bucky traces the lips of your cunt, then slowly pushes two fingers inside you. Fucking his cum back into your tight hole. You mewl, eyes fluttering. Your head tosses back, and Bucky smiles

“Good girl.” He coos.

You try not get all gooey and weak just from the praise. Bucky laughs, and you think you might’ve failed.

“Strangling my fingers, doll.” He teases, pulling them right out.

You whimper. You’re too wet and ready not to take something. It’s really not fair to make you wait.

“I know.” He kisses your brow, voice rough. “Trust me, I fuckin’ know. You just gotta tell me you like it, then-“ His cock drags between your folds, and you keen. “All yours.”

You blink at him, opening your mouth to comply.

But you’re at an advantage.

Bucky’s hard again. His body is wound so tight above you, and his every word is thick. Like it’s an effort to speak. He’s still trying to fight against the drug running through his veins.

You want him to give in.

So you close your mouth, and give him a defiant glare.

Bucky growls again, and there’s no more teasing.

His mouth pushes over yours, and it’s not a loving kiss. It’s rough and quick, stealing your breath in seconds and distracting you as Bucky grabs your knees and shoves them back. You try to chase his lips, when he pulls away, but he shoves you back down with a grunt.

“Wanna be a brat.” He grunts. “Gonna get fucked like a brat.”

You almost beam. Yes, please.

Bucky folds you under him, your knees pressed to your chest and your cum-stained pussy on full display. He doesn’t waste time, tapping the head of his cock against your clit before slamming right inside. You’re so soaked you take it with only a hitched breath, but that doesn’t mean your eyes don’t roll back.

He hits right against you pelvis, when he bottoms out. His heavy balls sit on your ass, and the stretch of him is just enough pain to heighten the pleasure. Bucky kisses all over your face as he lets you adjust, but your pussy is greedy. He’d prepared you too well. You’re more than ready within seconds.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You gaps out, and he growls against your neck. “Move.”

If he’d told you to wait, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

But the drug seems to have overtaken him again, and all you get is a noise like a snarl against your throat before Bucky draws almost all the way out, and slams back in.

The air is knocked clean from your lungs. This time, he hit right against your g-spot, and your whole body seizes up. Bucky makes a low, deep noise, and repeats the motion. Again, he drives right into that gooey spot deep inside of you. You clench around him, and he doubles over, rutting deep inside of you.

“The- There-“ You whimper, fingers scrambling in the sheets. “Fuck, baby, right there-“

Bucky grunts an agreement, and starts to fuck you into the mattress. The angle is so deep you’re worried he’s going to permanently rearrange your guts. Every slam of his cock into your makes you see heaven, and Bucky pants over your, his eyes locked onto yours as your face contorts with pleasure.

He’s not even fucking you like a brat. He’s fucking you like a doll. He grabs at your limbs and moves them below him like you’re just a sleeve for his dick, and he needs you into just the right spot. One hand fists in your hair, forcing your neck a little up so you can watching your arousal gleam on his cock every time he pulls out. He moans every time he pushes back in, and you watch your cunt swallow his dick whole. A wet, smacking sound filling the room as he drills into you. He bends you even further to kiss over your neck and breasts, his tongue dragging in rhythm with his dick.

You try to clench around him every time he bottoms out, but your head is sort of empty, and now you’re just a drooling pussy around his massive cock, moaning his name and happily milking every bit of pleasure.

“Oh- Oooooh-“ You mewl, smiling like a cockdrunk idiot at the air. “Buuuucky-“

His mouth presses back over yours, and the kiss is strangely soft. His fucking hasn’t slowed or relented, but there’s a care with how his lips move over yours that makes you feel worshipped.

That’s what he’d said he’d do. Worship you. And you can really feel it here.

Bucky draws back, and the hand that had been fisted in your hair moves to your jaw. He squeezes again. You open for him easily, and his lips twitch.

“Good girl.” He coos, even if the words are tighter than before.

He spits into your mouth. You swallow obediantly, and open again when he squeezes your cheeks. Bucky slams forward with a groan, looking like a man wrecked.

“You fuckin’ like it, don’t you-“

“Love it.” You gasp, unable to even think to deny him again. “Love you, Bucky- Oh- Oh my god-“

Bucky makes a ragged, choked sound, and cums almost without warning. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, as he pumps you full of his release. It feels like even more than before. Like you’re going to burst with how full you are, spurts of it still being forced out as Bucky fucks you through. You’ve never felt so totally claimed, with him all over every inch of your skin. He kisses you and you giggle, dazed and almost high on the feeling.

And he’s not even done.

The period of lucidity between orgasms gets shorter before it gets longer. Bucky’s ability to control himself almost vanishes all together. You get a kiss and broken mumble of your name before you’re being flipped back onto your stomach and fucked from behind. There will be handprints on your ass and thighs in the morning, and the sheets are stained with your drool from how Bucky railed you from behind.

You’re dragged into his lap right after, and he pushes his thumb into your mouth, then ruts up into your gaping cunt. You’re all moans and ditzy smiles by that point. When rolls you back onto your stomach and sits up on his knees, you just take it with moans and giggles and cries of delight.

He hasn’t just ruined you. He’s pulled you apart a million times over, until you’re just a puddle that sings his name.

You don’t even fully realize he’s done, when he kisses pulls out that last time. You whine, and clench around nothing, but expect to get filled right back up.

Then Bucky kisses you, and it’s slow. Savoring and sweet. Romantic. His voice is hoarse, but it’s lost the strained quality. He’s fully teasing again, smiling against your lips.

“So soft.” He coos, rubbing your thoroughly abused pussy with his warm hand.

You writhe, trying to get further and closer at the same time. Bucky chuckles, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, doll. You’d think you were the one that got sex drugged.”

You try to glare at him, but forget why the moment you see his pretty eyes, shining on yours.

They’re blue again.

“You’re back?” You breathe, and Bucky grins.

He ducks down, and presses another quick kiss over your lips.

“I’m back.”

 You’re ordered not to move, while he cleans up. You don’t think you could if you tried. Your body is jelly, everything is sore in the best way, and your head is spinning with too many thoughts of what the fuck happened.

You told Bucky you love him. You told Bucky you love him. You’d never even fully admitted it in your head and he just fucked it right out of you. You said it fast, too fast, he thought you hated him four hours ago and now he must think you’re some kind of freak for just saying you love him.

He makes you drink water and go to the bathroom. Draws you a bath and brings you a snack and changes the sheets. You manage to find the strength to stand out of the tub and dry yourself off, wrapping the towel around your body before shuffling out in the center of his room.

God, he’s so handsome. All tan muscles and scars you want to trace with your tongue. Too bad you fucking blew it, and now you’re never going to get to touch him again-

Bucky turns, and smiles when he sees you. You swallow, bracing for the worst as he crosses the room.

He takes your face between his hands and kisses you. Deep and gentle and maybe he just forgot-

“Love you too.” He says against your lips. “Just- Uh- While we’re saying it.”

Oh.

Or that. That’s nice.

You throw everything you have into kissing him back, but end up tackling him down onto the bed with the sudden surge of strength. Bucky chokes out a laugh in surprise, wrestling you over onto your back with kiss and wandering hands. You giggle, trying to push back, and he nips at the tip of your nose.

Then he pauses, and pulls up with a small, worried frown.

“You’re stayin’ the night, right?”

You almost snort. There’s no getting rid of you now. You’re going to stay forever, and as long as he’ll allow after that.

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

✦End note: this was longer than my college thesis btw. and i. put more effort into it.✦

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[shhhoneygirl]

adore you - gojo satoru

"her heart was a secret garden, and the walls were very high."

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

includes: gojo satoru x anxious!reader

contents: first date, hurt/comfort, opposites attract, fluff

--

a.n. - guys i have been so busy. just got off a plane! also shoko is a bit of an OC in this my bad i got a little carried away

words: 4.6k

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

a warm dusk breeze rustles through your hair softly, music from nearby restaurants drifting through the air as you walk down the faded sidewalk. buildings tower all around you, soft shades of pink and red reflecting off the skyscraper windows as the sun sets.

your friend's words echo in your mind, a mantra you've replayed a hundred times in your head as you walk steadily ahead:

"he's going to adore you."

the words should have been comforting, but something about them twisted in your gut like a knife.

adore.

such a heavy, final word. like meeting him would be the end of something- of everything that you are.

anxious, hesitant. an overthinker, second-guessing everything that leaves your mouth.

what if he doesn't adore you? what if the quiet way you hesitate before saying anything- the way your words sometimes stumble over themselves, tongue twisting as you backtrack to fix your mistakes- what if that isn't interesting or charming to him? what if he looks at you the way most men usually do? with their polite smiles that don't truly reach their eyes, nods that are really just excuses to look away.

your stomach twists.

you're meeting him through shoko, your best friend whom you met from work. she has this friend from high school, someone she has kept good relations with.

and apparently, he's "everything you've ever needed" - her words, of course.

you note the way she said "need" and not "want." you wonder what she means by that- what she sees in you that you don't.

she's spent weeks pestering you about setting the two of you up on a blind date, which you've repeatedly declined.

she assumes the reason why it's taken you so long to accept is because you're not interested- which is profoundly untrue.

you've wanted to go for so long. wanted to accept the first moment she asked, in fact. and alledgedly (perhaps unfortunately,) she asked the same of him, and he was "very interested" - again, her words.

but you made them both wait. again, not because you were uninterested- but because you've spent weeks practicing.

you didn't want to go in unprepared. so, for the past few weeks you've spent most of your alone time trying to be better.

trying to be more outgoing to everyone you meet- more easy to talk to, more likeable. you've practiced smiling in the mirror until your jaw ached, rehearsed small talk to your pet until your mouth felt like cotton and your throat raw. you even went shopping for the perfect first date outfit- one that makes you feel exposed, like you're wearing a costume instead of actual clothes.

but none of it will be in vain- because you don't just want him to like you, you want him to respect you. to not see you as this horribly shy girl who can't speak up for herself.

but what if none of it is enough? the doors of the bar loom closer- every step getting more unsure, knees starting to tremble as your eyes zero in on the business sign.

you're walking inside the food district, resturants and bars surrounding you on both sides of the wide street, cars honking, bustling past.

a laugh spills out into the night, bright and carefree. that's the kind of person you're sure your date would prefer. someone who could just walk into a room without thinking, without a second thought. who could command attention without ending up being a wallflower.

someone who doesn't have to try. you stop just shy of the entrance, your breath shallow in your chest. the last thing you want is to be late- it would set a bad first impression. but you can't get yourself to go in. you don't even know what he looks like.

you just know his name, and the fact that he has white hair?

you made shoko swear on her cat's life that he's not some old man she's set you up with on a joke. when you confronted her about it, she had laughed for ten minutes straight. you didn't think it was so funny, or why she thought it was so funny, but she assured you that he's close to your age.

you look back on the memory and smile.

the heavy glass door of the bar swings open with a soft gust of air, and the hum of conversation and clicking glasses against wood tables spill out onto the street. as the noise wraps around you, you consider turning around.

and you almost do, but then you picture shoko in your mind, pleading with you to just give him a chance. to give yourself a chance. so, you walk in, glancing around the large room, a part of it cut off from view by the circular bar counter. the establishment is nice- modern but not so much so that it's overly trendy.

soft colored lights illuminate the large space, and it's pretty busy, which is to be expected for a friday night.

numerous people crowd around the counter, others sitting in tables and watching whatever game is playing on the tvs that scatter the walls.

it was great of shoko to choose this location for the blind date, its easy to blend in here. but even despite the crowd- you spot him almost immediately.

leaning against the far wall, all long limbs and lazy grace. he's beautiful in a way that makes your chest ache slightly, butterflies twirling in your stomach. and he's not even attractive in a polished, symmetrical way of models or actors-but in the way a storm is beautiful. wild, a bit dangerous.

he's laughing with some people playing pool next to him, no doubt already friends despite only meeting them.

so he's the outgoing type. the confident, self-assured type.

your exact opposite.

you curse out shoko in your mind, a few curse words already leaving your tongue in a whispered hiss. she said he would like you, that he would...what did she say? adore you?

this is the type of man who would've bullied you back in highschool. but, as you continue to study him like a creep on the other side of the bar, you notice he doesn't look mean. just...intimidating.

as you study him, you go to absolute war with yourself on whether or not you should approach.

but your breath catches when he suddenly looks around the room, and his gaze flicks towards you.

those electric blue eyes- sharp as a blade- lock onto yours, and the world narrows, just slightly. the noise of the bar fades into a slight hum, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. you take a step forward, then another- almost unconsciously, like he's drawing you towards him steadily. at your actions, his lips curve slightly.

first slow, then deliberate- a dangerous grin that lights up his eyes. you almost freeze at his expression. you can't decipher it. what is he smiling at?

abrubtly, he pushes off the wall, and even from your distance he somehow looks even taller. his movement is controlled as he strides- more like stalks- towards you.

you should say something- anything, really. a greeting, a name, even an apology for making him wait. but your tongue feels heavy, your mind astonishingly blank. it seems as though your time spent practicing for this exact moment has all gone to naught.

all you can do it stand there, with your arms at your sides and your eyes wide until he stops just shy of you, looking down at you from his position.

up close, he's even more overwhelming. his scent wraps around you, a subtle mix of jasmine, warm amber, and gin. you swallow. he bends down slightly, teasingly.

"you're late," he chuckles, eyes twinkling even in the darker light. it's not an accusation, or judgement. just a fact.

it somehow makes it worse.

you look down, breath already shaky. you shouldn't have done this. it was a mistake. but it's okay, you self soothe, you can just go home.

"yeah..i know," you manage, albeit a bit quiet. "i just-"

he suddenly grabs your wrist, guiding you towards the bar counter in a mix between gentle and firm. and thank god for that, you're not sure what your excuse would have been.

oh! sorry! i was late because i've been overthinking for the past ten minutes about not being late, which of course, you know, made me late.

like- no.

he gestures for you to sit on a stool that you hadn't realized he pulled out for you amidst your thoughts, and your cheeks redden at the realization. you quickly thank him, practically scrambling to sit down.

he moves to sit down, but stops when he glances toward you. leaning over you now, he's so close to you that you can practically feel his cool breath against your cheek as he's squished in from the other patrons.

"you're shaking," he remarks, pointing at your hands. you blink at him, before glancing down to where he's gesturing to.

"oh..yeah, they do that. just ignore it," you mutter, rubbing your hand against the back of your neck, abashed. he huffs out a laugh, a grin still plastered on his expression. he sits down, finally, though he still feels like he's leaning over you a bit.

"hey, breathe," he chuckles, "before you pass out on me." he brushes a hair behind your ear, tilting his head at you. his grin finally softens.

you glance down at the bar, sheepish. he's being so sweet, and you're such a mess. this was a mistake.

you realize you've been quiet for a minute, coming out of your thoughts when you realize his thumb has been tracing a slow, deliberate path along your wrist.

the noise of the bar rushes back in, and you draw in a breath, glancing up. remember your lessons.

"i didn't meant to be late," you try again, steadily, more confident.

he smiles again, his elbow coming up to the bar to rest his chin against it, sly eyes narrowed down at you. his expression isn't unkind- just observant.

"you're forgiven," he brings a finger up to your nose teasingly, "this time."

you exhale, some of the tension in your shoulders releasing as you take in his words. he's not what you expected, at all. shoko described him as this chaotic, jumbled mess who's always stealing candy from her purse.

but the man you see is nothing like that. but perhaps he's restraining himself for your benefit.

"so, you're satoru, huh?" you feel the need to continue a conversation. one hand curled in your lap, the other still held captive by his calming minstrations. you wonder if he even notices he's doing it.

another slow grin spreads across his face again.

"that's me," voice still slightly teasing.

you go to open your mouth to introduce yourself formally, but he leans in, breath slightly warm against your ear as he interrupts you before you can.

"you're even quieter than shoko said you'd be." you flinch back, eyes wide and mouth agape. what?

"she- she talks about me? to you?" he laughs then, head tilted back, a loud and bright laugh that makes a few customers glance over at him in surprise.

you should feel annoyed, and you are for sure at her, but you find yourself laughing as well, hiding your face slightly with your free hand.

eventually, satoru calms down and resumes his relaxed position, though still chuckling slightly.

"all the time. said you were the quiet type- that you listen more than you speak, apparently." his eyes study you again, "you know, she wasn't wrong."

you roll your eyes with a soft smile, not denying it. you sigh, rubbing your hand against your forehead.

"so, you know all this crap about me, and all i got is that you're her friend from high school, you have white hair, and you steal candy." you mutter, loud enough so he can hear your grumblings. he barks another laugh, slapping the table in delight. bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

"that's so dumb," you smile.

his thumb finally stops its motions, and you glance up at him, only to find him looking at you intensely. your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"would you have still shown up if you knew more?" he asks. he doesn't ask it quietly, or unsure. he asks it like he genuinely wants to know.

you shrug, thinking about lying for his benefit. but you have a feeling he could tell that you were.

"probably not," you say, picking at small graffiti symbol someone carved into the wood of the bar. you continue, "it's nothing against you," you continue, "you're...perfect," you chuckle.

"it's everything against me," you mutter. you hope he doesn't hear that last part.

you can still feel his eyes on you. in the back of your mind, you wonder if he's looked away from you once since first meeting you.

he snickers, then, low and warm.

"perfect, huh?" he teases, leaning back with easy confidence. you blink when you realize what you called him, cheeks heating. you roll your eyes at yourself. great.

"come on," he pats your knee, standing up from the stool. you look up at him in surprise.

"wha-" you yelp when he suddenly pulls you off the stool and drags you gently towards the pool tables.

"oh, satoru-" you're horrible at pool. no, really- you suck. but he seems excited about it, so you let him pull you until to where you're both close enough so he can hand you a cue stick.

you slowly shake your head at him with an amused smile as he sets up the table.

once he's finished, he rests his hands against the sides, a relaxed stance as he grins at you.

"okay. here's what's going to happen," you nod along to his words in faux seriousness, "if i win a game, you have to tell me..." he taps his chin on his finger, thinking hard.

he hums, clearly deciding between multiple options running amuck in his mind.

"okay, okay. if i win, you have to tell me what you're thinking. right now." he states, raising a finger confidently.

you laugh at him, a hand on your mouth. "trust me," you chuckle, "i don't think you want to know."

he smiles at you and shrugs his shoulders. "well, i think that's for me to decide, isn't it?"

you hum, agreeing. "and you?" he asks. you think for a moment as well.

"if i win... you have to tell me everything shoko told you about me." you have no doubt you'll lose, but it's worth a try, at least.

he nods. "that's fair."

then, the game starts, and you take turns back and forth trying to hit the billiard balls into the nets.

fifteen minutes later, and your expectations come true when he wins, officially ending the game.

you didn’t really have a chance, anyway.

you laugh when he does a stupid little celebratory dance. somehow he’s lowering your walls- you’re not sure how he’s doing it.

his eyes soften at the sound of your laugh.

“there she is,” he murmurs, looking at you fondly. your laughter dies in your throat at you meet his eyes, before quickly looking down.

he claps his hands, and you startle slightly. “alright. i'm collecting my price. tell me.” he leans forward, grinning.

you groan, burying your face in your hands. you could lie...

“i’m thinking that…i’m having a lot of fun.” he squints his eyes at your answer.

“too boring. try again.” you scoff at him and roll your eyes.

“okay, fine. i’m wondering why you agreed to this date if you knew so much about me."

that…didn’t come out like you wanted it to. you’re curious about what he sees in you, but that’s not for him to know. it just rushed out of you before you could even think about it first.

he’s silent for a moment.

“let’s play another game,” he says, suddenly. you cringe at his deflection.

it’s official, you've ruined the date. mentally, your beating yourself up while you grab your cue stick. you try to not let tears well up in your eyes, but damn it’s hard.

for a while, you were doing so well. of course you just had to ruin it. you bite your lip, the tears so close. you can’t even look at him.

in your peripheral from where you’re staring at the floor, you see him line up his cue stick before pushing it forward.

the cue stick soars past the ball, clattering onto the table as his fingers let go of it. the play looked like something an absolute beginner would do- sloppy and inexperienced.

“whoops!” he scratches his head with an embarrassed smile. honestly, you don’t even notice the horrible play, still too caught up in your thoughts.

you line up your own stick, and set it off, missing the ball by a few inches. your lip wobbles even more.

this continues for the rest of the game, with him messing up in crazy ways, and you just barely winning. it’s not until the end of the game when you realize he’s been doing it on purpose, messing up exponentially while you slowly get your balls in the nets.

now it’s your turn to analyze at him, blinking at him confused when he forgoes the perfect shot he has to instead try at an almost impossible angle for a different ball- which of course he misses.

but you choose to not speak on it, and instead focus on your own play.

a few more minutes later, and somehow you’ve won the game. your eyes brows raise at you look at the table.

“how…” you mumble, sniffling slightly.

“hey hey! looks like you won!” satoru raises his hands in the air, smile wide on his face. well he looks suspiciously happy…

“looks like i get to answer your question now.” he hangs up the stick, and takes a seat in a nearby booth. he gestures for you to join him, patting on the seat next to him.

you move to sit on the other side of the table, but he tsks at you, one eyebrow raised as he points to the seat next to him.

you roll your eyes with a smile, trudging over to plop down next to him.

“you’re lookin’ a little sad for a winner, aren’t ya?” he teases, ruffling your hair a bit before pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. he’s done that twice, now.

despite spending the past hour together, you still find satoru ridiculously overwhelming.

he reaches behind your back, resting a long arm on the seat behind you.

“did you know that when shoko asked if i wanted to meet up with a 'close friend of hers'- that she gave me a picture of you?”

he waits patiently as you roll the idea around in your mind.

“i…did not,” you say, eventually.

he hums, leaning in slightly to whisper teasingly in your ear, “i thought you were really pretty.”

you laugh lightly into your hand at his silliness. “oh really?”

he nods, leaning back. “yeah,” a bit more serious now.

“she told me a bit about you too. how you’re a bit quiet, a little shy.” you cringe at his choice of words. you hated that word- shy. like it defines you.

shy is the kind of word those pick-me girls would use to describe themselves back in college, twirling their hair as they flirt with whatever guy is in front of them.

but they don’t get it, how socially debilitating it is to be anxious- to be a chronic overthinker. they wouldn’t understand.

a soft finger running down your arm brings you back to the present, and he continues.

“she said to me, ‘opposites attract, so i think you’d like her.’ i was so excited, did you know?"

you shake your head slightly at his question. you knew he was vaguely interested- but not excited.

a tug on a strand of hair makes you look at him, and he tilts his head at you.

“but you made me wait so damn long.” teased again, though you get the feeling he’s genuinely upset about it.

“sorry,” you mumble, pursing your lips. he smiles softly at you.

“i agreed to this date because i see myself in you, a little bit.”

you lean back, surprised. “what? no way.” he holds his hands up in defense.

“just listen,” he laughs. rolling your eyes, you gesture for him to continue.

“i feel the need to…be perfect, sometimes.” you scoff at his words, mumbling under your breath, “you are perfect.”

he shoves your shoulder gently, playfully. “stop it,” he chides.

“and i'm sure you feel a bit like that too. that's where i see myself in you." he pauses, letting the words sink in.

"but you,” he continues after a moment, “don't let that feeling- that want to be perfect stop you from being anything other than yourself. all the time. even if you feel uncomfortable, or awkward. you’re just so…you.” he gestures to all of you.

you feel the need to confess something. "actually, the reason why i kept was you waiting was because i was,” you take a breath, “practicing.”

he furrows his eyebrows. “practicing?” he questions.

you nod, self-deprecatingly. “yeah. trying to be more outgoing so that when i met you, you wouldn’t think i was some kind of loser.”

he laughs. “i don’t think that would be possible.” this time, it’s your turn to playfully shove him.

“don’t flatter me,” you chuckle.

his smile fades, slightly. “i will if i think you need it,” he says, simply. you feel like you’re getting whiplash from his change in emotion.

“you know,” you murmur, feeling the need to lighten the mood, “shoko spoke about you too, but only briefly.”

“oh yeah?”

“she said you’re crazy. that you’re annoying and a chaotic mess," your voice is light, teasing.

satoru stares at you for a moment before bursting out into harsh laughter. his laughter is contagious (so you’ve realized this entire time you’ve been here) and you laugh along with him.

“yeah, well.” he wipes a few tears from his eyes as he chortles.

you giggle. “it’s true! she said that you call yourself ‘the strongest’ or something whenever you win a game. though, i didn’t hear it from you during pool.”

he shrugs. “well, i am the strongest.” you huff a laugh.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” you snicker.

“so…another round of pool?” he offers, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

you smirk. “you’re so on.”

another hour or two later (though it only feels like minutes), he’s walking you out the door when he suddenly grabs your wallet from your bag.

“hey!” you laugh, and jump towards him to get it back. both smiling, he keeps it out of your reach above your head as he rummages around and takes out a card before looking at it.

“aw cute, a library card!”

“what is the purpose of this,” you ask, deadpanning, still reaching for it.

he finally pushes you away, one hand holding you back as he slips the card into his pocket.

“now, you have to meet up with me again to get it back,” he says, triumphantly.

you purse your lips. “it’s a library card.”

he hums, furrowing his eyebrows, before reaching into your wallet again. you roll your eyes, amused.

this time, he takes out one of your bank cards, and slides that one into his pocket too. you gape at him.

“i’m going to actually need that, you know.”

he smirks, leaning in teasingly as he boops your nose. “better see me again real soon, then.”

you both take a minute to look at each other, just taking each other in. you get sudden déjà vu, remembering this exact moment when you first met him.

hours ago, you had so many walls up it was a miracle you could even breathe with the pressure you had on yourself.

but now, as you stand under golden streetlights, the concrete sidewalk shaded blue and red from neon lights, you not sure if you have even one wall still up.

you feel good.

“okay,” you say, suddenly. “i’ll go out with you again. if only to get my cards back.”

he grins at you.

you both know that’s not the reason, but he doesn’t point it out. he simply goes on his phone to call you an uber, and waits with you in the warm summer night air.

---

later that night, when you call shoko to deliver the happy news of a successful date, she’s not as surprised as you thought she’d be.

“i knew it,” she confesses, sighing happily into the phone.

“knew what?” you ask, wondering what she’s on about.

“opposites attract. i literally called it.” you hum in agreement, listening to the cricket sounds from outside your window.

you chuckle, “it was actually diabolical how you didn’t tell me a single thing about him besides how he’s annoying and steals all your candy. it was quite a surprise when i showed up and saw…well, him.”

she snickers into the phone.

“and! and!” you continue, “you told him like everything about me, shoko? what the hell?” you both laugh.

honestly, you’re going to get abs from how much you’ve laughed today.

“yeah, yeah. sorry. to be fair, i didn’t think you could handle me telling you more. like, imagine i told you that he’s actually really hot and successful and he’s literally obsessed with you.”

“obsessed with me? what do you mean?”

“oh, uh, did i say that?” “shoko!”

“yeah okay fine. so you know how he saw your picture?”

you nod, but realize she can’t see you. “yeah, he told me.”

“okay well, after he saw it he started asking about you like nonstop and he would call you his ‘future girlfriend’, or something? i don’t know. just went on and on about how he’s already adores you.”

that reminds you what shoko said in the beginning: he’s going to adore you.

“huh.” butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you groan, burying a face into your pillow.

“he asked me out on another date,” you confess.

“well duh, of course he did.” you roll your eyes at her, even though she can’t see you.

“how did he do it?” she asked, and you recounted to her how he stole like half of your wallet to ensure you wouldn’t ghost him.

“as if i’d ever ghost him,” you finish. she laughs into the phone.

“that’s so satoru,” her voice is fond. she must know him really well.

“well, i’m going to let you go,” she says, and you agree, saying goodbyes as you hang up.

just before you plug in your phone to go to sleep, a text message pops up on your phone.

picking you up tomorrow at 10. don’t care if you’re busy. don’t be late! (also send me ur apartment address plz and thank u)

you snort at his text. he’s an idiot.

but perhaps you’re the bigger idiot for falling for it.

you toss your phone onto the nightstand, already half-asleep, your lips curving up without permission. but then your phone buzzes again.

also i know you’re still awake. i can see the read receipt ;)

you bolt upright. bastard.

you type out a reply, smiling at the screen.

fine. but you’re buying me a coffee.

outside, tokyo hums with activity. and somewhere out there, there’s a man who’s smiling at his phone, looking up the best cafés in the area.

you exhale, the weight in your chest lifting. for the first time in a while, you’re not drowning in the “what if’s.”

you’re just here.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

uhhh. yeah. can you tell i'm bad at ending fics? my bad.

lmk what you think and what you want to read next!

not proofread. picture found on pinterest, quote isn't mine!

[nixdvn]

COLLEGE AU 😫😫😫 ok hear me out:

We know that Zayne is 27, Valko is 26, and Caleb is 25. Considering Zayne prolly stayed away from Linkon from Primary to,,, maybe Uni? Caleb also moved away to study, and Valko... Well, we don't know but indulge me on this.

WHAT IF THEY ATTENDED THE SAME UNIVERSITY?

Like it was on accident, since the 3 of them are rlly smart n talented, they were able to attend the top university of the world or something.

They're all in different fields but it's still in STEM, and they probably share the same location, if not the same building (probably not tho).

Zayne first arrived and he's amazing, top student in Science, etc. In his 2nd year, he made friends (maybe thru competition or whatever) with a Technology student, Valko. Two years after that, he finds a familiar name on top of the Engineering leaderboard, specifically in Aerospace and Aviation: Caleb, who was on his 2nd year by then.

Zayne is on his 4th year but since he's medical field,,, 8 years to graduate, I think? Valko's on his 3rd year.

Before Caleb, Zayne and Valko would just pass by each other, say hi, maybe nod at each other, but never really hang out. Until Caleb.

Apparently Valko has been chatting up both upper and lowerclassmens, making friends everywhere, and Caleb fits his vibe so they quickly became friends. After Zayne and Caleb rekindled, Caleb invites both seniors out to drink. One night, Zayne ended up super drunk and the three stumble their way to Zayne's dorm room. Making sure he doesn't die, the other two slept over, and that bonding experience has changed the status of their friendship ever since.

I imagine midterms and finals week are the most fun, because it's 3 super smart geniuses trying to not die from over-studying, and it actually helps because being with each other helps with their nerves. They go to Zayne's room, bc it's clean.

It's also cute because there's no competition. No one's beating anyone. They can be the top students of their respective fields, so there's no friendship-breaking pressure to win against one another.

[lunariyan]

A Knight’s Loyalty (Yandere Lohen x reader)

⏾⋆.˚ : gender neutral reader, unhealthy dependence, threats of suicide, self harm, power imbalance, reader kinda sends mixed signals.

⏾⋆.˚ : He was always a fantasy to you, something you knew you could never truly have. In the end, whatever you had with him was only meant to be some harmless fun, too bad Lohen took it a step too far.

(7.6k wc)

“Among the higher ranks, who’s your favorite?”

The cool winds of Nod Krai swept through the Favonius keep, a crackling fire keeping the chill at bay. Following another swift victory against the wild hunt the knights broke out into a celebration, guzzling down kegs of dandelion wine from the latest shipment. Song and mirthful laughter filled the air as each knight’s face grew progressively more red.

A boisterous voice bellowed from within the little circle, “What kind of question is that? Obviously it’s Grandmaster Varka! The knights would be nowhere near where we are now without him.”

“Hey, that's just unfair. Grandmaster Varka is great but I personally think Lady Eula is the best! I mean she’s just so graceful.” A chipper knight with hickory hair sighed dreamily.

“Well then how about Master Jean? She’s strong and capable! She was made Acting Grandmaster for a reason you know?”

“Ugh I don’t know!” Winfried, the knight who first asked the question squinted his eyes, the flush on his face indicating he was thoroughly wasted. Suddenly his eyes turned to face you, he slurred, “What about you [name]? Who do you think is the *hic* coolest?”

“Me?” You hummed thoughtfully as you eyed the bottom of your empty barrel, seriously, it was good wine.

“That’s right you haven’t said anything this whole time, tell us!”

“Yeah yeah!”

The crowd grew overzealous as they egged on their new target, their fervent gazes impatiently waiting for your answer as they wriggled in their seats.

“Hmm, then.” you licked your lips, “Vice Captain Lohen.”

A hush settled over the once lively circle, only the crackle of the fire heard amidst the silence.

“Y-You’re kidding right?” Winfried laughed nervously, “Come on seriously who is it?”

You cocked a brow, pouting slightly, “I’m serious though?”

“But why?!” The brunette beside you shrieked, “H-he’s so scary!”

Another knight chimed in as a full body shiver ran through him, “Yeah! Once he made me do drills until I puked, and then made me do even more as punishment!

You chuckled apologetically, you felt bad for your fellow knights you really did… but, “Isn’t it pretty impressive he managed to get you to do that?”

“Huh?”

“Well you’re older than him aren’t you? The fact that he was able to rise up the ranks, get the Grandmaster’s approval, gain the authority of vice captain, and get you to train until you puked before even reaching your age. That’s pretty cool right?”

“You-!” The man exclaimed, “You’re just teasing me!”

This time you it was your turn to let out a boisterous laugh, “Sorry, sorry, I was just messing with you! Still…” you traced the handle of your mug, “Seeing his back on the battlefield brings a lot of reassurance, doesn’t it?”

“I guess… but tell me honestly [name],” Winfried let out a long winded sigh, “Are you a masochist?”

“Haha, Maybe.”

Sometimes, when you’re taking a break from drills and not needed for deployment, you take your time to observe the Vice Captain. It wasn’t creepy —well at least you didn’t think so— it was just something to keep you entertained, to pass the time, and Vice Captain Lohen was oh so interesting.

This time, you found yourself situated between a tall, jagged rock as you watched him duke it out with a Frostnight Scion that had been approaching dangerously close to the keep. There was a sharp grin split into his face as he cut into the beast with his polearm, the frosted tip tearing a screech from its chest. His movements were swift and frantic, but there was that edge of grace ingrained in them that clearly displayed his knighthood.

You were startled out of your observation from a whisper in your ear, “Ogling the Vice Captain again, [name]?”

“Gh! Winfried, how many times have I told you to quit doing that?!” You hissed as you watched your companion lean against the more hidden side of the rock.

“And how many times have I told you to not wander off without telling anyone?” He leveled a stern look at you before crossing his arms, “Anyways you should get out of here before he notices you, the last thing you want is Vice Captain Lohen’s eyes on you.”

You huffed, “He’s definitely noticed us for a while now.”

“Yeah but he doesn’t care, you should leave before he does.”

“Yeah yeah, in a minute.” You could hear Winfried audibly sigh beside you as you turned your head to face Lohen again. He had defeated the Scion at this point, now he had his polearm stuck into the sand of the shoreline, gazing distantly into the horizon. It was unlike him, the somber look in his eyes, but it’s an expression you’ve noticed he's been taking on more lately.

“Hey.” You signaled to Winfried, “Do you think… the Vice Captain might be having a hard time too, just like the rest of us?”

“What?”

“You know, maybe even someone like him is getting worn down by the Wild Hunt, his eyes just look so… empty sometimes.”

“That’s because he has no soul.” Winfried sighed, “You’re overthinking it, there’s no way a monster like him even knows what fear is.”

“…Yeah I guess.”

Just as you replied, Lohen pulled his polearm about of the sand and turned to face the rock you two were hiding behind.

“Gah quick! Let’s get out of here!” Winfried’s hand shot out to grab your arm, just as you two turned tail to run you threw one final glance at Lohen.

His dull eyes remained fixed on yours. You didn’t look away until he was a speck on the horizon.

After that encounter you tried to be more discreet with your observing, though you don’t think you could’ve possibly found a way to evade the vice captain’s sharp eye. Maybe that’s what landed you in this sorry situation.

“Looks like you’re next.”

A wooden sword pointed towards after one of your fellow knights fell to the floor of the training grounds, groaning in pain. It was peaceful that day, or at least as peaceful it could be in Nod Krai, when Lohen rounded a group of knights to ‘spar’ with. Each of them dropped like flies until finally, it was your turn.

You swallowed down the saliva pooling in your mouth before drawing your wooden sword.

Lohen laughed, “Let’s hope you put up a good fight.”

Immediately he rushed towards you and just barely managed to dodge his attack, with every movement you were stuck in a perpetual cycle of defense, putting all your strength into just deflecting his onslaught of attacks. You heard a whistle in your ear.

“Got you~”

Suddenly you felt the blunt edge of the wooden sword punch into your gut, knocking the air out of you. You doubled over, your ass falling flat on the ground when the chill of frost singed your cheek. Sticking out of the ground next to you, just shy of your shoulder, was the wooden sword, infused with cryo. When your eyes turned back you found magenta and teal staring back.

A chill ran down your spine.

He hummed, his forearm leaning onto the hilt of the sword as he bent to look down at you, “You’re pretty good, my little secret admirer.”

“Hah,” You wheezed out a thin laugh, your hand still clutching your stomach as drool dripped from your mouth, “Not very secret if I’m this open about it, yeah?”

“Oh? I suppose you’re right!” And with that he pulled the hilt of the sword and turned away.

“W-wait.” You cried, “I can… still fight.”

Before you could get back on your feet you felt cold fingers flick your forehead.

“I like your spirit, but you should know your limits. Shame, if you were just a tad bit stronger I would’ve set my sights on you.”

Your head hung low in defeat. Just a little stronger… what a pipe dream.

“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You were out on patrol when you came across Lohen again, from the freshly dead hilichurls littering the ground it looked like he was out on another excursion to ‘relieve some stress’.

And of course wherever Lohen went, you would follow.

“I could, but a picture can never compare to the real thing, now can it?”

“Well then why don’t you come down here and I’ll give you a real show.”

You were perched up on a cliff overseeing the hilichurl camp, you gave it some thought before letting out a theatrical sigh, “I think I’ll pass actually.”

Lohen merely shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself.”

Maybe it’s because he thought you were too weak, that a fight with you wouldn’t be worthwhile, but he gave up relatively easily. This has been your routine for a while now. Make no mistake, he still beat you black and blue when it came to training, but times like this when it was just the two of you, he let you be. A part of you thinks he’d rather not be distracted by a bigger fight, and another is telling you he just likes the attention.

It wasn’t anything serious, you know he wasn’t really interested, that this was just some passing entertainment until he finds his next fight. You weren’t expecting anything either, honest, it was just… harmless fun. Sure, some of the things he says make your cheeks burn, and sometimes your mind wanders to him, but that's all there is to it.

It was just a fantasy, he was just a fantasy.

He turns his back to you, and you find you’ve grown tired of the sight.

Your fellow knights thought your little arrangement was an absolute nightmare.

“I told you to steer clear of him didn’t I?” Winfried clicked his tongue, “Now he comes to pick on us even more!”

“He picks on you guys anyways, plus he’s not actually interested so I doubt he does it because of me, he’s probably just bored.”

You were seated around the fire once again, mugs full of liquid courage. The Wild Hunt had been more aggressive recently putting everyone on edge, drinking around a fire huddled with your companions was all you could do to settle your nerves.

Laurent sighed wearily, “You two should forget about silly things like that and focus on the threat ahead. The Wild Hunt is growing more unpredictable by the day.”

“Oh yeah, I overheard the Grandmaster speaking of a new threat on the horizon, someone named Rerir.” Winfried took a quick swig from his mug, “Well whatever, I’m sure we’ve got nothing to worry about, [name]’s sweetheart will surely take care of it.”

“Don’t call him that…” you hissed, but you couldn’t help the fond smile on your face, “I’m sure we'll be just fine.”

Things weren’t fine at all.

This new… monster, Rerir, whatever he was he was something far beyond the power of the knights. In the face of that beast, even the strongest would fall.

Even Lohen fell.

You watched them drag his broken body into the encampment, your blood running cold. When they ushered him into a private room it took everything in you not to follow after, to confirm his weakness with your own eyes. It’s been days since the assault and Lohen’s condition had finally stabilized, not to the point where he could get out of bed, but just enough to stay conscious. You find yourself hesitating in front of his room, recalling what the Frostmoon Scion who was treating him told you.

‘He’s in a bit of a delicate position right now emotionally, he may be aggressive so it’s best to proceed with caution.’

You gulped before carefully parting the curtain.

“…Vice Captain?”

Only silence greeted you, and the lingering stench of blood and medicinal herbs in the air. Lohen laid on the mattress, only a thin blanket covered his still form. From this distance you could see the various bandages littering his skin, some already bled through. His face was turned away from you, facing the small window carved into the stone of the building. You took a few cautious steps forward before being interrupted by a raspy voice.

“Get out.”

It wasn’t loud, closer to a whisper and barely there, you would have missed it if your ears weren’t trained for any sign of a reaction. You felt something shift inside you because for the first time since you’ve known him Lohen sounded so damn weak.

He wasn’t supposed to sound like that.

You let out a shaky breath, “…okay.”

Your visits after that followed a relatively simple pattern. You would try to make conversation, get a reaction, and Lohen would proceed to firmly dismiss you. Sometimes through aggressive shouts, and others with a small whisper. You didn’t mind, it was enough just to see him alive and breathing, the rejections weren't something that could deter you so easily anyways. This time, you had offered to help the Frostmoon Scions and bring a new basin of water and washcloths in their stead. As you stepped up to the entrance of his ward you were expecting the usual routine, make some small talk, he would ignore and dismiss you, and you would set the basin and cloth down and go on your merry way. Those were your expectations as you parted the curtain once more.

“Vice Captain, I brought some water.”

In response you heard a labored huff, when you looked up you noticed Lohen struggling to get out of bed. His limbs trembled as they braced against the mattress, a thin sheen of sweat layered his forehead.

Immediately you placed the basin and cloth down and hurried to stop him, “What are you doing you shouldn’t be out of bed yet-”

Suddenly, your vision distorted, a stinging pain piercing your head. Your head was whipped forcefully to the side and when you looked down you noticed a piece of… stone? It must’ve been one of the small stone statues the Frostmoon Scions kept around. As you eyed it closer with blurry eyes you noticed a patch of red and instinctively brought a hand to your head. When you pulled back, a matching red coated your fingers.

“A-ah…”

Lohen hadn’t noticed, or he might have and was too out of his mind to care. A cracked wheeze crawled out of his throat, the crimson in his eyes glowing with outrage, “Just why the hell do you keep coming back here, huh? Just to revel in my weakness?”

“That’s not-”

“Save it, I don’t need your pity! Get out of my sigh- hrk!” Before he could finish his sentence his chest convulsed and all color drained from his face. He held his hand over his mouth before turning and emptying the contents of his stomach with a shudder. You stepped back in surprise as the clear liquid pooled on the floor, and while Lohen’s body quaked in front of you, you could only think of one thing.

‘Oh, he hasn’t eaten.’

Lohen tried to steady himself and hung his head low in what you didn’t want to call shame, but it was close. He stayed silent, only his shuddering breaths echoing through the stone walls.

With a sigh you took a step back before gathering the cloth and dipping it into the basin of warm water. Carefully, you stepped forward and kneeled beside his hunched form. With steady hands you turned his head and brought the cloth to gently wipe at the corner of his mouth.

His pupils were blown wide and he grit his teeth, but he made no move to swat your hand away. He whispered weakly, “Why are you doing this?”

You hummed thoughtfully, taking a moment to think of a response, before speaking softly, “It’s nice to be able to see you face to face after only ever knowing the sight of your back.”

Something in Lohen’s expression changed at that, the slightest shift in his eyes that you wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t a hairbreadth away. As if finally regaining some sense, his eyes were drawn to the leaky red patch on your head. You followed them and quickly turned your head to hide the wound.

“Ah, don’t worry about this. It’s nothing compared to what you went through.”

Lohen made a complicated expression, he opened his mouth to say something before biting his lip instead. The ghost of an apology lingered in the air.

You showed him a small smile before rising off your knees, “I’ll clean this up and call for a Scion. Please don’t try to get up without assistance again, Vice Captain.”

The man only huffed before turning over and pulling the thin blanket over himself, “fine.”

You nodded and made way for the exit, his eyes still imprinted in your mind.

The Frostmoon Scions were incredibly fussy about the little wound on your head. When they asked how you got it, all you could say was ‘I fell’. It was such an obvious lie it was almost laughable; still, they didn’t question it, simply dressed the wound and told you to be careful. You wished your fellow knights were as agreeable, they simply gave you a knowing look and sighed whenever they glanced at the bandage on your forehead.

It’s been a week since then, and whenever you had free time you made sure to visit Lohen. He’s been more responsive during your visits, his usual snark tinting more of his words. The fight with Rerir almost seemed to shatter his spirit so it was reassuring to know he was regaining his confidence.

You were with him again, this time you had a ball of gauze at your side as you redressed his bandages. Perhaps it was stubbornness, but his recovery speed was impressive. Maybe he was just willing himself to get better in order to step back on the battlefield. You were speaking to him of anything and everything, just enough to fill the silence. He had been quieter than usual and it was only when you taped the last bandage that he spoke up.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“The knights have been telling you to leave me, haven't they?”

You choke, “W-what do you mean?”

He scoffed half heartedly, “I know what they’ve been whispering behind my back. ‘The Vice Captain has finally fallen, perhaps he isn’t as formidable as we all thought!’ Right?”

You tried to open your mouth in denial but quickly shut it when you couldn’t find a rebuttal, instead you mumbled in defeat, “Who told you that…?”

Lohen laughed airily, “I have eyes and ears everywhere, you really think I wouldn't find out?”

You barely hold back a biting remark, ‘then close your eyes and ears’

“Still…” he draws on, a sharp little smile curling his lips “You keep coming back. At least you know where your loyalties lie.”

Your brow furrowed a bit at that, "Don't be too harsh on them, morale has been down ever since Rerir’s attack. You’ve always been their shield, now that you’ve fallen it makes sense their fears are rising with no defense.” A small, teasing smile graced your lips, “That small back of yours is pretty reassuring, you know?”

“And yet, you hate the sight of it.”

You stilled for a moment before looking up to lock eyes with Lohen. Carefully, you brought a hand to brush a lock of hair away from his face, “…Even you deserve a break sometimes.”

Lohen leaned into your touch and just as you were about to pull away he held onto your wrist, his voice feather soft, “Hey, won’t you stay the night?”

You flinch involuntarily, there was something in his voice that felt… intimate. There was a small, wriggling feeling of unease in your gut, “Vice Captain that’s a bit…”

“Please.”

Vice Captain Lohen never begs, you didn’t even think he knew the concept, so how could you possibly deny him when he asked so sweetly.

“…fine.”

You were awoken to a stinging pain. Slowly you raised your head from the mattress Lohen laid on, his face turned away from you, only the steady rise and fall of his chest indicating he was asleep. Your hand laid by his side, his finger just barely grasping the tips of yours, as if he were hesitant to fully grasp your hand but refused to fully let go. You stared at your hands before gasping quietly at another sting of pain. Gently, you peeled his fingers from yours before gingerly pressing into the bandage on your head. You sighed at the wet crimson staining your fingers, your wound must’ve opened during the night.

As quietly as you could, you rose from your seat and padded towards the small mirror on the side wall. There was a basin of clear water beneath it intended for washing purposes. You leaned over the counter and removed the bandage to see fresh blood leaking from the reopened wound. There was a cloth on the counter, and after lightly dipping it into the water basin you went to dab at the wound. You hissed at the stinging pain but continued to clean the wound and bandage it, all while biting your lip trying to hold in your pained moans.

But you noticed, in the dead of night, there was no one there to bear witness to your weakness. There was no reason to hold in your pain, to keep up this strength. So you released your bitten lips, a quiet sob leaving them.

It hurts.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurtsithurtsithurts-

Like the break of a dam, tears continued to leak from your eyes. The culmination of the pain from your wound, the fear of the Wild Hunt, the frustration from your own weakness, the despair that even someone like Vice Captain Lohen could be defeated so thoroughly-

If someone like him fell, then what chance could you possibly stand in this wretched world?

These thoughts continued to fall in streams from your eyes. The throbbing pain from your head served only as a reminder. A torrent of sobs crawled up your throat as they echoed across the stone walls, your hands continuously wiping at the wetness.

“[Name]?”

You froze, a quiet hiccup slipping past your lips as you tried to turn your head away from the voice and squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel eyes burning into you as you hurriedly splashed water onto your face, praying it would cover the evidence of your weakness.

“S-sorry, did I wake you?” You tried to laugh, but it came out stilted.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “I’ve always been a light sleeper.”

Archons, he heard everything didn’t he?

It took everything in you not to rush out right that instant, an embarrassed flush burning your face. You know he could see your face in the mirror even with your head ducked.

“Come here.”

You hesitated, but eventually stepped to the stool you had been sleeping on previously, your head lowered in shame.

“Not there.”

You raised your head in confusion, only to feel your breath hitch at the sight of Lohen holding his blanket up, inviting you in.

He cooed, “Here, come on.”

“I- you can’t be serious.”

That uneasy feeling in your gut returned in full force. You were teetering on the edge of a line that shouldn’t be crossed between a knight and their superior. A threshold which you had previously thought Lohen had no intention of ever letting you pass. Silently, you wondered if this too was just a passing entertainment. If you were just something to keep his mind off his own weakness.

You… you didn’t want that, to be something to momentarily cling to only to eventually toss away.

You almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation only to quickly shut up at the seriousness in Lohen’s eyes. The crimson in them seemed to glow brighter in the dark and all you could do was helplessly crawl into his bed. Your back laid ram rod straight against the mattress, eyes firmly fixed onto the ceiling as you tried your hardest to ignore the heat beside you. It sure as hell didn’t help when Lohen curled into your side his arm laid over your chest.

“Vice Captain, this is-”

“Lohen. Call me Lohen, you know I hate titles.”

“…Lohen.” That sinking feeling was coming back in full force, you turned your head away from him, “This isn’t… I don’t think we should be doing this.”

Lohen’s arm seemed to wrap tighter around you, as if to prevent you from escaping, as if to prove that you had no choice in the first place, “How come?”

“You… seem to be asking for something impossible.. is all.”

Lohen hummed playfully, his finger gliding across your collarbone, “I haven’t even said anything and you’re already making assumptions. It’s not good for a knight to have such hasty judgment.”

“A knight… yes, exactly that,” you grit your teeth, he was clearly trying to play the long game. Unfortunately, you had no plans to indulge him, “I’m just a lowly knight. I can’t give you what you want Lo-… Vice Captain..”

Lohen stilled his ministrations and went quiet, only the soft tickle of his breath against your neck indicating his presence. Slowly, his lips crafted a response.

“I’m just a knight too.”

…

There was a beat of silence before you realized he was being serious.

“…Are you trying to comfort me? You? Just a knight? We both know that’s not true.” You laughed bitterly before turning over, your back facing him. Distant, but not fully gone, “Go to sleep Lohen.”

Lohen didn’t say anything, his arm still firmly wrapped around you. It was only when he noticed the steady rise and fall of your chest that he pressed himself flush against your back, his fingers lightly tracing the bandage on your forehead.

“Sorry… I’m sorry.”

His apologies went unheard.

It had been days since you last visited Lohen. You wouldn’t say you were ’avoiding’ him, but after your last encounter you weren’t exactly partial to a visit. In the meantime, you decided to take up your knightly duties which have been sorely neglected. It was during patrol that Winfried suddenly struck conversation.

“Have you heard? Apparently the Grandmaster is gathering people to defeat Rerir.”

You quirked a brow, “Is that so?”

“That’s right! No one really knows who’s helping him but the traveler is definitely involved.” Winfried grinned, his elation made sense, after all a formidable foe needed a formidable opponent and you’ve heard many tales of Mondstadt’s illustrious Honorary Knight.

You couldn’t help but smile in turn, “Then there’s no way we’ll lose.”

It was in the midst of you two laughing together that a familiar figure ran up to you.

“[Name]! Oh thank goodness I found you.” It was the Frostmoon Scion who was in charge of treating Lohen. Her face was shiny with sweat, her chest heaving as a clear sign of exertion, had she ran all the way here?

“Woah hey, what’s wrong?”

“Well! It’s that Vice Captain of yours you hear!?” You held her shoulders to steady her only to notice her abrupt appearance was less in panic and more in frustration, “He absolutely refuses to receive any kind of treatment!”

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise, “Sorry?”

She let out an exasperated huff, “I know you were only trying to help but to think it’s gotten to this point… Whenever I attempt to go through my usual routine he’s completely unresponsive and just tells me to leave! I’m sorry [name] but could you please go check up on him? We have other patients and I can’t afford to meander around his room any longer.”

“Ah that's… well I mean… I’m kinda.. in the middle of… something..” You turn back to Winfried, a bit lost on what to do, only to find him already shaking his head with a knowing sigh.

“Just go. It's just patrol, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“…thanks.”

You rubbed your temple and the now healed wound on your head seemed to mockingly throb at your predicament. You didn’t know just how exactly to face him, sure you may have indulged in this game he was playing, but that's only because you never expected anything to come out of it! After all, in what world would Lohen of all people get intimately entangled with some random knight who’s not even one of his own? You thought you two were on the same page, this… whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to get this far. As you stood in front of his room thinking of what to say to him you heard a small pained sound escape from inside. It was small, but sharp and instantly, all your thoughts fly out of your head as you quickly rush inside.

“Ghk…”

Your eyes were blown wide at the sight in front of you. Lohen was doubled over with long, angry red marks spanning across his arms. Fresh blood seeped from the wounds onto white sheets, dyeing them red, and you noticed his lips had also been bitten bloody. His hands continued to dig into the wounds on his arms.

“What are you- Archons Lohen stop!”

On instinct you made grab for the uninjured part of his arm. It was only then that he seemed to really notice your presence, his eyes immediately shot to you, his pupils were dilated and his face was drained of color. The blood leaking from his split lip was a stark contrast to his pallid skin. Despite the state he was in, his bloody lips curled into a smile at the sight of your face.

“You’re here.”

“Of course I- no just what on Teyvat were you doing?!” Your eyes darted down to survey the state of his wounds. The marks were bleeding in thin lines and upon closer inspection you noticed flecks of dead skin and blood beneath his nails, his wounds were clearly self inflicted.

“Haha… can you believe it? Those damn scions keep insisting that I need to stay in bed even though I’m already all better! Even when I refuse their unnecessary treatment they practically lock me up here. So I thought, ‘If I can’t go out onto the battlefield why not bring the battlefield here?’”

Your mouth hung wide open. You were well aware of Lohen’s lack of care for his own body— what with his partiality to poison and headstrong battle attitude— but to think it would reach this extent.

“And hey, look.” He brought a hand to stroke the newly formed scar on your head, the tissue still pink, “Now we match.”

You shuddered at the feeling of warm blood staining your cheek.

In a swift motion, you took hold of his wrist, a tense expression on your face, “Don’t ever do this again, you hear me?”

Lohen huffed lightheartedly before he noticed you backing away. You had planned to go looking for the gauze again when there was sudden tight grip on your hand.

“H-hey, hey. You know I was just joking right? If you didn’t like it I won’t do it again just- just don't leave.”

You squinted your eyes and only sighed wordlessly, “I’m just getting gauze, Lohen.”

He sucked in a breath before reluctantly letting go. I’m just a few moments you were at his side again with alcohol and wrappings. You really didn’t want to dwell on the way Lohen’s face flushed, his eyes transfixed on yours, as you disinfected his wounds. Nor did you want to think about the small, twitchy moans of what you hope is pain every time you pressed particularly hard.

It was when you had begun wrapping the clean bandage that he spoke again, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You halted for barely a moment before continuing the motion, “I haven’t. I’ve just been busy, knightly duties and all.”

“Liar.” Lohen hummed in amusement, “You’ve been avoiding me and yet you’re more fussy over this than your own wound, what’s with that?”

You noticed his eyes flicker to the scar on your head once more, almost relishing in it. You mumble, “Well, better me than you, yeah?”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Perhaps that wasn’t.. the best choice of words. You were about to open your mouth once more when Lohen beat you to the punch.

“Once I’m out of here, it’ll be that bastard Rerir getting ripped apart instead.”

You blinked, an uneasy twist to your lips, “Maybe.”

“It will. Now…” he lifted his blanket and patted the space next to him, “You’ll stay the night, won’t you?”

He never did get a chance to rip Rerir apart.

Rerir’s defeat rang through Nod Krai along with cheers for the heroes. With the threat of the Wild Hunt officially settled the Grandmaster ended the expedition and allowed all troops to return home. A long awaited celebration was held in the Flagship, the tavern bustling with familiar figures.

In the midst of it, you could see Lohen, a smile on his lips with Varka’s large arm slung around him. He looked just as happy as the others, but you could see the tightness in his smile, the way his fist clenched behind his back, a certain hunger in his eyes left unsatisfied.

The knights were greeted just as grandly upon your arrival in Dorman Port. You watched your comrades pull friends and family into bear hugs, flowers and gifts being passed around. Many were in tears and you watched quietly off to the side.

Settling back into a peaceful life in Mondstadt was hard for most. With the constant threats in Nod Krai there was a constant need to be on high alert, now it’s hard not to flinch at the chirp of birds. Of course some struggled, but it was inevitable that sheer relief was the common consensus. You found happiness in the peace as well, finally breathing in air that wasn’t tinged with a trace of blood or smoke did numbers on your stress.

Things with Lohen on the other hand… well you couldn’t tell if they’ve gotten better or worse.

You expected him to forget all about you, to see your little relationship as a stain in his life, a moment of weakness, one to completely erase. Your return to Mondstadt came with the full acceptance of him never looking your way again. What you didn’t expect was that he’d practically be on your heel every waking moment.

“Do you seriously just sit here and… talk to people for hours on end? That's it? Where’s the excitement in that?!”

“…No one asked you to follow me here.” You had been enjoying another idyllic day in Dorman Port when Lohen had sneaked up on you, again, and decided to plop down right next to you, “If you’re so bored then why don’t you go patrolling for monsters again?”

“And leave you here all by your lonesome? Why, I would never,” he tutted, “I’m a gentleman after all.”

“Gentleman?” You snorted, “You wouldn’t know gentle if it had socked you in the face.”

You wonder if it’s you who’s gotten more audacious or Lohen who’s gotten more lenient. If it were as it had been before he probably would’ve used you as target practice for that comment. Despite your biting remark you can’t deny that he has been painfully, well, gentle with you. If you didn’t know any better you’d have thought he was afraid to lay a hand on you. The most he’s done is drag you along everywhere he went, never letting you stray too far from his side. You try to shrug it off, he clearly hasn’t been able to adjust to the change in environment like everyone else, maybe he’s just trying to cling to something familiar.

You really hope that’s all it was

“So don’t grow old on me, ok?”

His voice was like a whisper in the wind, if it weren’t for the traveler’s nod of confirmation it would’ve seemed like he hadn’t said a thing at all. You held your back firm against the wall of the cathedral, you didn’t mean to listen in, really, you just came to pay your respects; but when you heard that familiar voiced tinged with a hint of sadness you froze, unintentionally hiding yourself.

You watched the traveler walk away with their floating companion, their backs retreating into the sunset. The leaves rustled in the wind and you stayed in your spot, hidden behind the wall. You didn’t want to intrude on a tender moment but-

“Just how long are you planning to hide there?”

…of course he noticed.

You slipped out of your hiding spot, “Sharp as ever, aren’t you?”

A light laugh rang from him, “I could recognize your footsteps anywhere.”

You huffed before turning to Adorno’s grave, your expression solemn, “I heard about what happened. I…I’m sorry.”

Lohen’s smile was smaller now, more melancholic, his eyes seemed to be looking somewhere much farther away, “Well, it was due to our own selfishness that he even lasted this long. It was about time that the old man finally gets laid to rest.”

You nodded, a small smile resting on your lips, “…It’s good that you have someone else to open up to now though.”

“Huh?”

“The traveler,” you turned to where the traveler had stood previously with Paimon, “‘don’t grow old on me’ right?”

Your eyes stared wistfully into that spot. There was an unsaid ‘someone other than me.’ You were happy, really. Lohen needed someone else, someone stronger and more capable than you could ever be, and the traveler was a perfect fit. With them, he could reach out to others and he’ll realize that you were never truly that special. Just someone who happened to see him at his weakest

In a sudden motion you felt yourself being held in a tight grip, Lohen’s face buried in your neck.

“Wha-”

“You know you’re all I need, right?”

His voice trembled, the ends of his words fraying just slightly. There was a knot in your throat because this felt too damn familiar, “What are you talking about?”

“The traveler isn’t worth shit compared to you,” his breath tickled your skin, the brush of his lips against it making you spine tingle, “None of them are worth shit.”

“You- Lohen do you hear yourself right now?” You tried to pull him off but his grip remained steely, “You shouldn’t- I just meant that it’s good that you have other people to rely on!”

“I don’t care! Why do you sound like you’re trying to leave me?!”

“That’s not- I didn’t…” You could only stand there with your mouth agape as Lohen trembled in your arms. You wanted to deny it but nothing left your throat. You could only wrap your arms around him and rub soothing circles into his back. You spoke in hushed whispers, trying your best to coax him out of your arms, “Come on, don’t be like this. It’s ok, it’s ok I-” you paused before swallowing, “I won’t leave you.”

“…Promise?”

You let out a defeated sigh, “Yeah.”

“Okay…” He finally pulled back at that, instead opting to bring your hands to cup his face, “Okay.”

You bit your lip. This… this was too far, whatever was going on between you two wasn’t healthy. Air entered your lungs in short bursts as he kissed your palm.

It was high time you put an end to this.

Dear Mother,

It’s been a while since I’ve sent you my last letter. What with the return of the expeditionary force and the endless celebration I simply could not find the time. I’ve been idling my days away here and could not help but think of your face every time I gazed beyond the port.

Days of ever present danger are long gone and it seems I’ve grown accustomed to the peace within the city walls, it reminded me far too much of home. It’s been years since I’ve last seen you, and I’ve come to a realization as well.

You never approved of me becoming a knight, but I was young and ambitious and couldn’t help but defy you. It is only after witnessing true strength that I realize perhaps I was never suited for this path. I had always enjoyed sitting around a fire chatting with friends rather than fighting for honor and glory. With this newfound peace, I think it’s about time I lay this title to rest.

I plan to let the acting grandmaster know of my departure— though I suppose she isn’t the acting grandmaster anymore haha— and plan to set out to come back home. I heard you’ve moved back to Sumeru in the past year and I cannot help but grow excited to taste your home cooked meals again. Good Hunter is nice, but nothing can quite beat you!

Don't worry, you won’t be waiting too long, I’ll be there soon!

“Sincerely, [name].”

A thud echoed in the room as your groceries hit the floor. You stilled at the sight Lohen at your desk, his fingers gingerly pressed against parchment as he dangled it in the air, "What are you doing in my room?”

You thought it was strange when you came home to an unlocked door. You had shrugged it off as paranoia, maybe you had forgotten to lock the door on your way out. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Lohen hummed, his eyes still on the paper he had just finished reading out, “Sumeru? That's a bit far dont you think?”

“…I asked you a question.”

“Were you really planning to never tell me? Or did you think I wouldn’t find out?” In a sharp motion, he whipped out his dagger, the tip pressed into the parchment before a loud rip resounded in the silence.

Your lip trembled as you watched him carefully tear away at the paper, each rip more violent than the last, “W-why…”

“You promised.” He was walking towards you now, the point of his dagger dangerously close to you, “You said you wouldn’t leave.”

Your back pressed to the door and as you slowly crept towards the handle a hand shot out to grab your wrist. You felt your bones creak at the sheer force in his grip, an aborted gasp leaving you.

“Or were those all empty words?” The hilt of his dagger was used to lift your chin, “It’s not right for a knight to go back on their word you know?”

You chuckled dryly, hoping to all the archons above that it could conceal the fear in your voice, “I’m not a knight anymore, am I?”

Lohen only gave you a blank look, his face mere inches from yours. His breath smelled of Valberries and mint and you felt your stomach turn, “You think I’d let you get away that easily?”

You wanted to laugh, there was one somewhere hidden in the crevice of your chest but all you could do was offer a shaky smile.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Lohen paused at that, his dull eyes bore into you, but he only smiled before pressing his forehead to yours, “You know I wouldn’t lay a hand on you. Not you, never.”

In an instant that hand which had your wrist in a crushing grip twisted your fingers open. Suddenly you felt the chill of cool leather on your skin as you noticed just what was in your hands.

Lohen’s dagger laid there, his fingers enclosing your own around it’s hilt.

Before you could process it his hand had pulled yours forward, the sharp end cutting into his neck. You gasped, immediately you went to pull away but his grip remained firm and there was no way you could ever overpower him.

“If you’re so insistent on leaving, then go ahead. But, just know…” despite the blade nicking into his skin, he smiled, a twisted lovesick smile that marred his delicate features, “My blood will be on your hands.”

“S-stop,” You tugged to no avail, “Lohen, stop,” he leaned in and the closer he came the deeper the knife cut into him, “Please!”

There was a steady stream of blood leaking from his neck but he didn’t so much as flinch, his wide eyes completely fixed on yours, “Say you won’t leave.”

“I won’t! I won’t so please let go-”

“Liar.” He hissed, “You’re lying again aren’t you? Just like last time, you don’t really mean it. Do you really want to kill me?”

“Archons Lohen no! I’m not! I won’t- I won’t ever leave you again ok? I’ll always be by your side, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.I’msorryI’msorry!! Please!”

Your eyes watered as you noticed him pale significantly, the crimson staining the knife a stark contrast to the chalky color of his skin. He was panting now, the blood long having soaked into his clothes, yet despite how frail he looked, his grip over your hand was relentless.

“Hehe, you mean it?”

Slowly, his grip loosened and his hand fell weakly. The moment he let go you threw the dagger to the floor as if it had burned you. You were shaking as Lohen pressed his cold lips to yours, sighing into a closed mouth kiss.

“It’s a promise then. If you try to break it… who knows what I’ll do.”

A wet sniffle left you as he stumbled into your neck. As he stood there, breathing you in, you could feel his hot blood stick to your skin like a brand, forever staining you.

[lunariyan]

Just a scratch

[zaynezone]

best part

synopsis: using the key Zayne gave you, the state of his apartment gives you an idea warnings: this is just fluff, mentions of cooking and eating pairing: Zayne x fem! reader wc: 2.2k

When Zayne gave you a key to his apartment, it wasn’t a test. Or a symbol. Or anything dramatic at all, really.

It was just a key, nestled in his palm like something simple. He’d handed it to you without preamble, voice low and even as he said, “This isn’t just for emergencies. I want you to come over. Whenever. Even if I’m not here.”

And maybe that was what startled you most, how casual the words were, how easily they slid into the world like they hadn’t rearranged your entire interior. A soft intimacy, not loud or showy, but felt everywhere. Like sunlight on the back of your neck.

Of course it was just like Zayne. Of course he’d express his feelings with something so simple, so functional. The man had a whole emotional language built out of gestures like that: hand-delivered coffee, a knit brow when you yawned too early, a charger in his bag just in case.

The key clicks into the lock, and you step inside. The quiet hits you first. A different kind of quiet, one that doesn’t hum with Zayne’s presence in the next room, or the familiar weight of his footfall on tile.

You’ve been here dozens of times. But never like this.

The lights are off. The windows cast the pale sheen of a cloudy afternoon across the living room. His coat is draped across the back of a chair, a half-empty mug on the coffee table. And the rest…

The rest is chaos.

Not dirty, not really. But cluttered in a way that feels deeply un-Zayne. Books scattered across the couch like they fell mid-thought. A handful of glass cups, each with varying degrees of forgotten water. Candy wrappers twisted into quiet spirals. A stethoscope hanging off the edge of a dining chair.

You set your bag down gently, almost afraid to disturb the mess.

Zayne was organized in the way architect's dream about, meticulous, methodical, even in the way he folded his laundry. He had once explained the arrangement of his bookshelf to you with a near-religious reverence, tracing spines with his fingers while your head lay in his lap, his other hand trailing slowly through your hair.

You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes open that night, lulled to the edge of sleep by his soft cadence, but you remembered the way his voice warmed as he spoke. The way he always lit up over order.

And so the disarray here doesn’t feel careless. It feels…tired.

Like something gave way inside him and never had time to settle back into place.

You hover awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure if this counts as trespassing or love. Probably both.

But after a few moments, your hands start to itch. And besides, if Zayne were here, you’d be tidying beside him without a second thought.

You find his cleaning supplies tucked away in the immaculate cabinet he keeps beneath the sink. You queue up your playlist on his speaker, start with the dishes, and let the rhythm carry you.

It’s meant to be quick. Just a sweep here, a wipe-down there. But you end up singing into the broom, dancing in socked feet over the tile. You linger over his books, reading the margins he’s scrawled in mechanical pencil, each note like a whispered thought left behind.

By the time you’ve returned them all to their places, according to Zayne’s preferred genre-then-author-then-title system, you feel like you’ve restored something sacred.

You scrub the countertops until they gleam. Stack dishes in the drying rack with care. Sweep crumbs into a neat pile and hum to yourself as you rinse out the sink.

By the time it’s all done, you’re glowing a little. Not just with exertion, but with pride. The kind that comes from loving someone in the language they understand best.

The kitchen is quiet when you check the time. It’s edging toward dinner. And Zayne’s fridge, unsurprisingly, is empty except for half a lemon, a bottle of hot sauce, and a single, forlorn cucumber.

You laugh softly and slip your shoes back on.

The grocery store down the street is still open. You shop deliberately, fresh vegetables for dinner, noodles, stock, a bulb of garlic because you remember how he always forgets to buy one. You skip the carrots that he had once told you, half-asleep, were his culinary nemesis.

You throw brownie mix into the cart without thinking too hard about it. And then you add chocolate chips. And a pack of microwave meals for the nights he’s too tired to boil water.

Back at the apartment, the grocery bags thump gently onto the counter. You start unpacking, switching the playlist to something softer.

The soup bubbles quietly. The scent of onions, miso, and ginger fills the space. You taste as you go, adjust, stir again. You let the brownies bake while you clean up the splatters and lean against the counter, eyes flicking to the door every few minutes.

He should be home soon.

But exhaustion creeps into your limbs before he gets there, and eventually you let yourself fold into the couch, the smell of chocolate clinging to your sleeves, your hair, your skin. Just a minute, you think. I’ll rest my eyes.

When Zayne reaches his front door, fatigue clings to him like a second skin, dense and inescapable. The ache behind his eyes is dull but insistent, the kind that seeps in after hours of standing still and thinking too hard. He’s just come from witnessing something remarkable, a cutting-edge transplant, the kind of surgery that makes all the sleepless nights worth it. But now, standing in the quiet hush of his hallway, he braces himself for the chaos he left behind. Dishes in the sink. Papers in soft piles on the floor. That chair with the jacket he never remembers to hang up.

Except...when the door creaks open, what greets him is not disarray, but the gentle gleam of light bouncing off clean countertops. The air is warm with the scent of something rich and homey, garlic, maybe, and fresh herbs. A slow-cooked comfort.

He stills in the doorway, blinking like he’s unsure he’s stepped into the right apartment. The transformation is startling.

And then he sees you.

Curled up on the couch in the low lamplight, one hand tucked beneath your cheek, the other slack on your stomach. The domesticity of it, the peace, hits him in the sternum. He lets his bag slide gently to the floor, shrugs off his coat, and crosses the room like he’s afraid to break the spell.

You stir at the weight of the couch shifting beneath him, eyes fluttering open. Your gaze softens when it finds him.

"Hi," you whisper, still drowsy, like the word costs you something.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to the apple of your cheek. It's feather-light, reverent. A silent thank you.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs, though there’s the faintest smile in his voice, like he’s secretly glad to see you awake.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you say, blinking up at him. “Just…resting my eyes.”

His brow furrows, the beginnings of a scold he doesn’t quite commit to. You can see the protest behind his eyes, the part of him that wants to argue you should’ve gone to bed. But instead, he squeezes your hand, his thumb stroking slow over your knuckles.

“It’s late,” he says, voice quieter now, almost shy. “You should get some sleep.”

But your nap has left you refreshed, and the anticipation of seeing him like this, worn down but glowing with presence, makes you shake your head and stand.

“I made you dinner,” you say gently, tugging his hand. “Come on.”

He follows without resistance, a step behind you as you lead him to the kitchen. His arms slip around your waist the moment you stop moving, his chin settling atop your head like it’s the most natural place in the world to rest. His fingers tangle with yours, grounding himself in the warmth of you.

You can feel the weight of his day in the way he holds you, like if he lets go, the exhaustion might win.

As you move to warm up the food, he stays close, always touching, his fingers tracing lazy shapes on your hip bone, his breath ghosting over your shoulder.

When dinner is plated, he takes the dishes from you before you can insist, setting them carefully on the table and fetching cutlery without a word. You sit across from him, watching the way the tension in his shoulders loosens as he finally allows himself to be taken care of.

“Thank you,” he says, not even looking at the food yet. His eyes are on you.

You lift an eyebrow. “It’s nothing. Just dinner.”

His smile is faint but full of feeling. “Not just for dinner. You didn’t have to clean.”

“I wanted to. You’ve been working so hard lately. I figured…I’d lighten the load.”

For a moment, he just looks at you. Really looks, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you under this soft kitchen light, the gentle tone of your voice. Like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

Your foot nudges his under the table.

“Eat, Doctor,” you tease. “Shouldn’t have to remind you of the importance of proper nutrition.”

That finally pulls a laugh from him, quiet and precious. He reaches for his spoon with a fond shake of his head, and keeps smiling even as he chews.

You try to argue when he gathers your empty plates later, but he silences you with a single look, soft but firm, the way he is with stubborn patients. You follow him anyway, settling on the counter while he washes up, recounting the odd details of your day: the cat that tried to follow you home from the store, the old lady who complimented your scarf, the podcast episode that made you tear up in public.

He listens like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, asking quiet questions, chuckling when appropriate, nodding at the right moments.

When he finishes the last dish, you shift to hop down from the counter, but his hands find you first, gentle yet grounding, resting just above your knees as he steps between your legs.

“Hi, doctor,” you murmur, and the nickname falls from your lips like a secret. Your voice is soft, a little breathless, caught under the quiet weight of his gaze.

He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Not rushed. Not demanding. Just a quiet, lingering brush of lips that feels more like a promise than a greeting, tender and full of meaning.

“Thank you,” he says again, low and sincere. His voice sounds different in this hush between you. Unarmored. “For everything.”

You shake your head, a small smile blooming as your arms circle around his neck, drawing him a little closer. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to do it. Always.”

He kisses you then. Really kisses you. It’s slow and steady, a kind of coming home. His hands slide up to your waist, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt. There’s nothing hurried about it. Just the warmth of him anchoring you, like he’s trying to speak in the language of closeness, of breath and skin and unspoken things.

When he finally pulls back, it’s with a soft sigh against your lips and a tired, crooked smile that still makes your heart stutter.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, the fatigue threading back into his voice, pulling at the edges of his body.

You trail your hand down his arm, fingertips skimming the inside of his wrist in a soothing touch. “Alright,” you say gently. “Though…I guess the brownies will have to wait till tomorrow.”

He stills at that, blinking once. “Brownies?”

You try to bite back your smile, feigning innocence as your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt. “They should still be warm from the oven.”

He makes a low, needy sound that you feel more than hear, and the way he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek sends heat blooming in your chest. His voice is a whisper against your skin.

“You’re the best.”

“I know,” you tease, lips brushing his jaw.

And even as he lets out a quiet laugh, you feel it, the love steeped in the way he looks at you like you're the one miracle he's been waiting all day to come home to.

[zaynezone]

golden line

synopsis: childhood photos have Zayne feeling guilty warnings: pretty fluffy so none pairing: Zayne x fem!reader wc: 1.2k an: not having any stress has left me not writing as much lol so here's a little cute fic! i swear i have so many good fics coming i just have no time to write them

Zayne isn’t surprised when, after finally pulling his phone from his pocket at the end of a twelve-hour shift, he sees an attachment from his mom. Five images in a single message. She had a habit of unearthing pictures from his childhood and sending them to him at random hours, often accompanied by snaps of pretty skies, cozy cafés, or scenery from the trips his parents still took together.

When he opens them, a wave of secondhand embarrassment immediately hits him. They’re from that zoo trip, the one where you got hit by a snowball. The first four are clearly before the incident, each one showing you and younger Zayne standing stiffly in front of a different animal enclosure. He winces a little at how awkward his childhood self looks: shoulders hunched, hands shoved into pants pockets, gaze never quite finding the camera. But in every photo, your smile beams bright and unbothered, eyes scrunching in that same way that had always made it hard for him to look away.

And then the fifth picture loads.

The fourth had been in front of the guilty seals. The fifth must’ve been taken only minutes later, likely an accidental snap, because it’s nothing like the others.

Snow streaks across your hair and face in messy little clumps, glistening as if caught mid-melt. Your eyes are squeezed shut, the beginnings of tears caught in your lashes, and the pinched, hurt expression you wear still makes his chest ache all these years later. In the frame, Zayne is standing in front of you, hands halfway raised in a frantic attempt to brush the snow off and coax you into stopping your tears.

He remembers the panic vividly, the way his stomach had dropped when he heard your small, pained cry, the helplessness that came with not knowing how to make it better. His mom had stepped in then, wrapping you up in her coat and speaking softly to you in a way he couldn’t. He’d felt useless.

That night, determined to fix it, he’d stayed up crafting tiny seals with the unpredictable flickers of his childhood evol. After nearly twenty attempts (and many lopsided failures), he’d chosen the few that most resembled actual seals and packaged them neatly. He hadn’t been brave enough to see your reaction in person, so he’d left them quietly…and soon after, left your life altogether.

Now, as he drives home, guilt curls in his chest. You’d once told him you hadn’t recognized the seals as his gift, and thought they were snowballs meant to tease you. That had never been his intention. Seeing the pictures now, remembering how cold and startled you had been, makes him ache in a way that feels heavier than the shift he just worked.

He slips into the house quietly, the dark feeling familiar yet unwanted. In the bedroom, you’re curled up under the blankets, hair spilled over the pillow like a little halo of messy warmth. Your breathing is slow and even, your expression untroubled in sleep. The blanket rises and falls with each soft inhale, the edges tucked up to your chin like you’d been nesting yourself in before drifting off. The glow from the hallway light catches the faintest sheen in your hair and makes the curve of your cheek look impossibly soft. One of your hands is tucked beneath your pillow, the other loosely curled near your face, a posture so gentle it makes his chest ache with the urge to protect you from everything, even his own thoughts.

He tells himself he shouldn’t wake you. He showers, changes into soft clothes, and slides under the covers, repeating the mantra in his head: don’t wake her up, don’t wake her up, don’t-

“Are you awake?” he whispers before his brain can catch up to his mouth. Immediate regret. Obviously you’re not. He’s about to turn over and go to sleep when he hears it.

“…Hm?” Your voice is groggy, small, and scratchy from sleep, the sound wrapped in a warmth that makes his chest tighten. Another pang of guilt twists inside him.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, but you turn toward him anyway, the sheets rustling as your eyes pry themselves open just enough to find his face in the low light. There’s something unbearably tender in the way you look at him, even half-asleep, like you’re searching for whatever’s weighing on him.

“Tell me?” you whisper, the sleepy tilt in your voice enough to undo him completely.

He exhales. “I’m sorry about the seals.”

You blink, the crease between your brows deepening before recognition slowly softens your features. “Zayne…that was years ago. I think we’ve moved past it.” You give him a slow, soft smile and reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his like it’s second nature. His gaze lingers on the way your fingers curl around his, your smaller hand almost swallowed in his, and still, the guilt in his chest refuses to loosen.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he admits quietly. “I never got to say that properly.”

You scoot closer until your legs brush his, squeezing his hand until the pressure feels grounding. “You don’t need to apologize,” you mumble, laying your head against his chest. Your hair spills across his shirt in loosely, smelling faintly of the floral shampoo you always use. It’s familiar and comforting, and the edge in his thoughts dulls just a little.

“My mom sent pictures from that zoo trip. They reminded me how much the snow hurt you.” His thumb drifts instinctively over your cheek, tracing the shape of your face like he’s trying to memorize it again. He remembers the way your skin had been ice-cold that day, the sting in your voice when you’d cried out.

For a moment, you’re still, and he almost thinks you’ve slipped back into sleep, until you tilt your face up with that sudden, quiet seriousness that makes his heartbeat stutter.

“I love snow. It could never hurt me.”

A knot swells in his throat, thick and unyielding. He wants to tell you more, how badly he’d wanted to make it right, how much he still thinks about those tiny seals, but the words stick. You seem to sense it, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It’s slow, barely a brush, sweet with the faint taste of the berry lip balm you’d put on before bed.

“Go to sleep now, Zayne,” you whisper against him, tugging him down so you can curl closer. The light clicks off with a soft snap, and the room settles into stillness, the only sound the steady rhythm of your breathing against his chest.

And maybe, he thinks as his eyes fall shut, he should be grateful to those seals after all.

[pillsatoru]

. VENUS AS A BOY library owner! nerdjo x reader

𝔂ou decide to volunteer at your local library during winter break, unaware of the owners cute grandson. you're convinced he absolutely hates you, only to find out he's been thinking on which position to fuck you in first.

warnings / tags smut, brief angst, fluff, small town romance, he's a bit of an ass, rough sex, fingering, public sex, unprotected. reupload !art by uruyuuu on twt !

northern california is rainy around these months.

wanting to be different from the rest of the country, it doesn't offer the warmth of the sun, perfect enough to tan. it instead gives you foggy mornings that blur into rainy afternoons and demands you to be wrapped up in multiple blankets by the end of the day.

that's why you neatly placed your pink burberry scarf around your neck, patting it softly down over your chest with one hand while the other held the application form to volunteer at a library right down the street from your new home.

one you have been visiting for a while now, mostly when you needed to renew your business and law textbooks for school, ones you refused to pay over 500$ for. with one final look in the mirror, you grabbed your umbrella from it's place before heading out the door.

barely anyone helped out at the library because it was family owned. but it had people coming in and out at every hour of the day. so you weren't surprised when a group of people came out the door as soon as you approached it. matcha in hand and earbuds plugged into ears. 

performative males.

their earbuds weren't even plugged in and that alone made your eye twitch.

after closing your umbrella, you stepped inside, making your way over to the counter where mrs. gojo usually was. and there the old lady stood, looking through her glasses, scanning books like always.

a smile made it's way on your face. she was the sweetest woman ever, always giving you little stories here and there every time you came in.

"y'know, my hair used to look exactly like yours at your age." she once told you. now, she had a short frizzy pixie, stripped away from her color and has now turned white.

"oh, hello sweetheart!" she happily greeted. mrs. gojo often forgot your name, so she settled with sweet names any granny would call you.

"hi miss." you greeted back, waiting for her to walk around the corner of her desk to give you a hug. "I'm guessing you're out of school, hm?"

"yup, just finished. I'm free, for now at least." she laughed at that. her age may have changed, but her laugh has remained the same.

"what brings you here? you should be out with your friends."

"yeah, well, don't have many of those." you chuckled, handing her your form. "saw on your website that you were needing volunteers, so here I am."

she looked down at the paper confused. "volunteers?.. ah right, right. my grandson," she sighed, shaking her head. "he insists I need more help with running this place but I am telling

him I'm okay. but he posted on our uh google thing that a.. he put up a volunteer sign up."

"he's even helping out as well this summer. I tell him me and him are enough to keep this place going."

you bit the inside of your cheek, a bit bummed out. "so, um, I'm guessing thats a no then?"

"oh! oh no no young missy. I would love for you to work here with us. but I ask you, why here and not hanging out with your friends?"

"I don't really hang out much." you reminded her. "plus, I like being here."

the sweet lady patted your arm, turning to look behind her. "very well then, I'll give this to my boy." you smiled down at her, appreciating the soft feeling of her gentle hand.

"satoru.. where are you honey" she grabbed her walking cane, about to start moving before another white head appeared from behind the shelves.

your eyes widened.

no way was this her grandson.

he's supposed to be eleven, or ten. her stories made it very clear he was anything but your age.

he was wearing a navy blue polo with brown slacks and on his nose bridge laid his black framed glasses that created a barrier for his pretty blue eyes. the same shade as his grandmothers.

your throat dried up. he was handsome, very handsome.

and nowhere near the age you had imagined him to be. her voice snapped you out of your trance. "hi sweet boy, this pretty young lady used the volunteer form. she'd like to work here.." she explained. he gave you a once over, looking you up and down before looking at your application. his eyes skimmed through, adam's apple bobbing as he spoke.

"alright, I'll look at it." his voice was even more attractive. it was low but calm and gentle all at the same time.

mrs. gojo gently smacked him. "she's working with us, application or not, it does not matter."

"sorry granma'am, I need to make sure that she's eligible to-."

"nonsense, I know her. very sweet girl!" she interrupted.

"I'll file it.." he muttered, slipping the application into the folder behind the desk. then he looked up at you, eyes meeting yours.

"welcome, I guess. I'm satoru."

you greeted him with a small smile, giving him your name as well. he let out a small grunt as he stood up straight, walking out to be at the front next to you, noticing how you backed away a bit.

"alright. I'll make you a name badge tomorrow. if you want to start today, you can go back to where the returns are." he nodded towards a bin with a couple of books that were waiting to be checked in and returned back to their place on the shelves.

you nodded, hands clasped together in front of you.

mrs. gojo grinned brightly at the two of you. satoru gave you a brief nod, lips turning into a thin line, before walking past you brushing his shoulder against yours. and you were able to catch the faint scent of cedar and rain making you feel light headed.

"he's shy. must be because you're pretty." she said softly, making your face warm up.

"I've got eyes, you know. he barely talks to anyone other than me or himself. not even to customers."

your eyes flickered over to where the white haired boy had disappeared into. "he'll warm up to you quickly." she gave you a little arm rub and began to hum as she made her way over to a family asking for a membership.

you sure hoped so.

but you hoped wrong. 

oh, so wrong. 

mrs. gojo's words echoed in your head every day you showed up, praying that satoru would do more than glance your way and shame you for putting the books in the wrong section. 

"no, this doesn't go here. I've told you many, many times before the Eschatological literature is all the way in the back. Not with dystopian." he grabbed, or more like snatched, the book from your hands. 

"Isn't that kind of the same thing?" 

He looked down at you like you had suddenly grown three heads. "Are you stupid?" 

Yeah. 

He was an asshole. 

And when he wasn't whisper yelling at you for a mistake, he was making you do the things he was supposed to. 

Like being in charge of the front desk while he took an hour break to study for his Econ class. 

"Uh, Satoru? I thought you were doing the check out today." You carefully approached him, not wanting to annoy him in any way. 

Satoru's head turned to look to where you stood, adverting his eyes from his computers screen. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, taking in the cute but simple outfit you wore. 

God, he just wanted to tear it all up. 

He adjusted his glasses, standing up not before closing his device. 

"Can't you do that?" He asked. 

"Oh, well I'm in charge of putting the books back in place, so.."

"No. Absolutely not."

You frowned. sure you've messed up a couple of times in the past two weeks, but you thought you have gotten the hang of it. 

"Just do the check outs and I'll take care of the rest." 

His lanky body moved out of the room, giving you the opportunity to let out a frustrated sigh. 

You heard his annoying voice once again. "Get to work."

You thought this was supposed to be a nice relaxing way to spend your vacations. A little get away from being pushed around by your parents and peers at school, only to end up in the same situation. But this time by a really good looking boy you just wanted to hit in the face. 

"Have a great day.." You forced a happy tone out, handing the customer the book. You were so burnt out you didn't even process properly when said customer hit on you. 

"Sorry?" you blinked a few times. 

The man stood tall, green eyes on yours and a smile stretched on his face. 

"I was saying that you're really beautiful.. and if you'd like to grab coffee some time?"

Never in your many years living in this shit town have you been complimented by such a handsome guy. His muscles were visible even through his brown leather jacket. 

"Su-"

"We'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't flirt with our employees." 

You've gotta be joking. 

You turned to Satoru whose eyes were set on the man who was already backing away. 

"My apologies." He politely said, smiling one last time at you before leaving the building. 

Satoru watched him leave, internally patting himself on the back proud that he managed to scare him off. No way was he going to let you get any game while he was plotting on you. 

Through his glasses, he finally looked at you, only to flinch a little when you looked like you were one second away from biting his head off. 

"Seriously? Do you hate me that much? What the hell have I ever done to you other than confuse two fucking genres of books?!" 

"Woah, watch your tone. There are kids here, if you haven't noticed." 

"No, listen here Satoru. What is your damn deal?" 

You were clearly fed up with whatever bullshit he has been pulling. 

His eyebrows furrowed, not pleased with the vulgar tone of yours. "It's not appropriate to do that kind of stuff here."

"Since when? Not even a day ago were you getting hit on by a girl!" Yes he was the worst guy you have ever met, but he was very handsome. His face looked like it was built by God himself. 

"Now it's a problem?" You scoffed, walking away from him.

There was no emotion visible on his face. 

He quickly scanned the library, making sure no one was watching as he followed after you, gently slamming you onto the desk nearby. 

Rows of shelves covered you from any eyes, but anyone could walk to where you both were any second. 

"What are-" you were cut off when a large hand covered your mouth, the feeling of something hard pressing up against your ass made you freeze. 

"You sure are something, huh?" Satoru sighed, giving you a little thrust. "Been wanting to do this since you first showed up. You know how many times my grandma spoke about you? Didn't know you were this pretty." 

Your moan was muffled by him, already feeling yourself get wet, which he took notice on. 

His free hand traveled down to squeeze your inner thighs, moaning lowly. He's never actually touched a woman like this before. Only learning the ways of sex because of the mature section that was on the second floor, hidden away. 

He's read a few pages here and there discreetly when organizing them or when he had to kick teenagers out for treating it like the back of Spencers. 

"Fuck.. is this okay?" His cock was about to explode but he really needed to know if you wanted this too. He's seen the way you stared at him when you thought he wasnt noticing. The way your eyes lingered on his arms, especially his hands. 

You nodded, whining a 'yes' when he relaxed the hand that was gripping your lower face. 

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed the crook of your neck, his lips moving against your warm skin as he whispered moaned in your ear, feeling you through your panties. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a hungry one, his tongue tracing the outline of your pulse point, biting down on it.

He watched your face closely, taking in all the little expressions you made after he moved your underwear to the side, teasing your bare cunt. His eyes darkened with lust, wanting to see you completely come undone by his touch.

You had no idea how no one had noticed yet. 

The horrid sound of your wet pussy squelching at every movement his fingers did was loud enough to fill the area you were in. 

A library was supposed to be quiet by nature, making it an appropriate place to let those who want to study, study in peace.

Not to have sex in the corner. Not at all. 

“oh my fuck. your so messy.” His fingers curled hard inside you, thumb playing with your clit in circles to bring you to your orgasm quicker. 

He was living for the small noises you made. How you tried your best to be quiet. 

"Fuck—“

Satoru pulled back just enough to watch the way you trembled—fingers glistening with your arousal as his free hand yanked his pants down further. He began stroking his cock, continuing working on your cunt. 

“Satoru..” you whimpered. 

“Yes baby?” 

The pet name made you clench harder around his digits. 

“Fuck me..” your own words made you cringe. you sounded desperate. because you were. 

Satoru lost it—his cock driving into you with brutal precision as he sucked his fingers clean fucking you in tandem until your thighs trembled around his dick.  

"Say my name when you cum," he ordered against your neck before sucking hard, the vibrations of his groan making your hips jerk. His free hand pinned yours above your head: "Wanna hear who owns this tight little—fuck!"  

He cut off mid-sentence when he felt you clamp down on him. 

“where’s you learn how to talk dirty..” you managed to say with the way he was plummeting in and out of you. “and fuck.” 

“i’ve got my ways of learning sweetheart.” 

He chuckled darkly, biting down on his lip to keep himself quiet. 

“gonna cum inside.” He warned. 

You nodded, getting dizzy when he hit your g-spot repeatedly. 

and that was enough to make you cum. 

“Yes.. yes fuck oh my god.” 

he released into you, watching as it immediately drip out of you. 

“Thank you..” 

you smiled weakly up at him. “for taking your virginity?” 

“felt like i took yours.” he grinned, helping you put your panties back in place, patting your cunt one more time before tucking himself back in his pants. 

“satoru sweetheart? where are you?” Mrs. Gojos voice could be heard. 

“shit. forgot we were here.” his eyes widened, watching as his grandma walked in. 

She paused in her steps. 

“oh! looks like you’ve gotten along. see, told you he’d warm up to you.” she innocently smiled at you, unaware of the reason why you two were even this close to each other in the first place. 

“cmon, you’ve gotta help me out with some books.” she turned around, pausing again. 

“what’s that smell?” 

shit.

[pillsatoru]

satoru is surprised to see that his new neighbor is young & beautiful, not an old hag.

satoru gojo doesn’t do relationships, is what he says every time a hook up tried staying until the morning. he’d go into a bar in hopes of blowing off some steam after a long day of work, find a pretty face, and ruin it back in his apartment.

his neighbors were sick of his behavior, eventually not being able to handle it anymore leaving moving out as the only option. it was an insanity for the luxury apartment complex to refuse to do anything other than give him warnings time to time. that was because satoru would just pay them to leave him alone.

his loud moans along the sounds of skin on skin were the last thing one needed to hear at three in the morning, so it wasn’t a surprise to see mr. & mrs. iori packing their things not even a month after moving in.

they shot the white haired boy a dirty look as they carried their boxes outside. satoru would only respond with his stupid smirk.

the rumor of a new neighbor settling in next door to him spread quickly. everyone spoke of you so kindly because of how you’ve given each of the families on your floor a plate of sweet treats.

a pout would appear on satoru’s face upon hearing of you. why haven’t you given him anything? you live right next to him for gods sake!

the last time he had a girl over was well over a week ago, his work being more demanding leaving no room for his activities. his body shook with excitement, hands groping the blondes body watching as her nipples hardened under the cold weather. right as he was about to take one into his mouth, the doorbell rang.

satoru groaned in annoyance, pulling back with reluctance. he stood up, re-adjusting his raging boner inside his pants to answer the door. to his surprise, it was you.

“hi,” your soft voice cut through the air. “i’m new here, thought it’d be best to finally introduce myself to my neighbor. wasn’t so sure if anyone lived here since it’s always so quiet!”

oh you poor innocent thing.

but oh my god. you’re no old lady who bakes and sews in her free time. you’re around his age, with a pretty face that practically made his jaw drop in awe as his eyes landed on yours. 

satoru could hear his hook up calling for him to come back, making him close the door slightly behind him so you wouldn’t be able to hear her. “yeah, sorry just been so busy. but, i’ve heard about you…” he dragged out the ‘o’

“y/n”

“y/n” he repeated, testing out your name himself. and it felt so right. “i’m satoru, satoru gojo.”

you shook his slightly clammy hand after he offered it to you. “well, satoru, i really hope you enjoy the cookies. have a goodnight.”

“you too..” his eyes trailed after you even as you walked away.

at that moment, he knew he wanted you & for more than just sex. he wanted what was shown in romcoms, when they’d go through fights and then hold hands and kiss under the rain. stuff like that.

but satoru gojo doesn’t do relationships.

he had no clue how they worked, really. the most he could do was touch himself at the thought of you. the way your loving voice would say good morning to him in the hallway or when you’d offer to babysit his nephew, megumi, when he was busy with his job.

you were so perfect.

“ngh fuck!” he whimpered out in the shower. the hot water hitting his bare back enough to make him arch into it. his hand squeezed the base of his cock, watching as his tip exposed itself once the skin was pulled back. the tip that was usually pink had now turned into an angry and desperate red.

“bet your mouth would look so pretty wrapped around me.” he whispered to nobody, throwing his head back as he quickened the speed of his hand. it was cramping from how hard he was going on himself, cumming hard onto the bathroom wall.

any evidence of an orgasm was washed away by the water that was pouring out of the shower head.

“what a waste.” he watched the cum disappear. it’d look much better painted on your back.

when other neighbors warned you of satoru, urging you to get earplugs, you were confused to say the least. “earplugs? what for?”

“he’s always moaning with a new girl every other week day. we’ve tried putting in complaints but the complex won’t do anything of it.”

“really?  i haven’t heard anything.” which was a lie, partially. satoru didn’t moan to another girl these days that wasn’t you. every whimper and moan that slipped out of his place, spilled into yours. it was cute really, hearing his needy sounds with your name on his tongue after every interaction he had with you.

it was a huge help for you as well. having difficulty finishing, it became easier with just listening to him. your vibrator would touch just right, hand shaking as you moved the wand up and down.

the sudden silence of satoru’s place spread around the building. the fact that he hasn’t brought a girl over in a few weeks raised suspicion and honestly, worried everyone.

“maybe his company is being harsh again.”

“doubt it, he’d still find a way to have sex. something is seriously wrong.”

so they all kept a close eye on him, observing the way his line of sight lingered on your door every time he would leave or enter his place. satoru has been contemplating on returning the basket you had given him since you first spoke. it’s been sitting on his desk for a while now, collecting dust. surely, you wanted it back.

with the help of his black credit card, he filled the basket up with hundreds of roses, leaving it at your doorstep with a small note inside. 

your eyes widened when you reached your door after a long day of work, wondering if you were hallucinating or not. you bent over to grab the basket, reaching inside for the piece of paper. 

“feel like we barely speak other than you babysitting for me & the usual ‘hello’s’ & i’d love to take you out some time if that’s alright.” 

at the bottom read his initials.

s.g

his heart wouldn’t stop beating in excitement upon your acceptance. but since he was satoru gojo at the end of the day, the boy who swore he doesn’t do relationships — has no idea how relationships operate.

“i think ill have.. the vietnamese coffee.” you smiled up at the barista who jotted down your order on their notepad.

“uh yea ill get that too..” satoru stuttered, trying his best to calm down the pressure he was feeling in his pants. he had no idea you have heard him jerking off to you for the past two weeks and even more so that you were doing the same. 

when you spoke, all he could do was nod like a stupid bobble head, memorizing every word you said.

you were both out for a few hours getting to know each other better giving him extra time to figure out which position to have you in by the end of the night.

he knew doggy style would feel the best, but he really wanted to see your face. so, mating press would do it. except, you didn’t go into his apartment after heading back from the cafe. and you didn’t let him into yours.

“alright, good night satoru. thank you again for the date. hope we can go out again?”

he blinked, nodding. “of course. yeah, fuck of course.

with another of your gentle smiles, you leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek before entering your apartment, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

satoru stood there in shock. 

you didn’t want to fuck him? were you teasing him? surely you’d open the door again and allow him to come in so he could fuck you until all you knew how to say was his name.

but you didn’t. 

you made him wait. 

2..3..4 dates went by and the most you’ve done was hold hands as you walked through the mall and kiss each other strictly on the face. his personal favorite was the cheek so he could attempt to move his head to the side, allowing your lips to accidentally graze his.

but whenever he tried this dirty trick, you’d move away just in time. he was growing frustrated. you wouldn’t even kiss him let alone sleep with him!

yes of course he wanted to be yours more than anything but god did he want to feel your body under his.

finally, on the fifth date, you two made it official and the neighbors had a field day with that. for a bit at least.

“did you hear satoru and the cookie girl got together?”

“shut up. don’t tell me that’s the reason we’ve finally been able to sleep peacefully lately.”

“who could’ve seen this-“

“coming! m’cumming!” you whimpered into your bedsheets, tears streaming down your flushed face.

satoru finally had you where he wanted, underneath him sobbing dumbly over his fat cock after finding your toys in your closet. “ha.. so you’ve been playing with these shitty things knowing i needed ya?” 

he coo’ed feeling you tighten around him. “fuck. did ya hear me touch myself every night, hm? you got off on that?” 

your eyes rolled back once he brought your vibrator to tease your clit all while he kept hitting the spot that had you seeing stars. 

“mmm,” he chuckled. “who’s making you feel better huh?” 

“y-you! you satoruuu!” 

his hand that was placed on the small of your back moved to spank your plush ass, adding onto the already existing hand marks. 

“knew i had to have this pretty pussy the second you knocked on my door. i’m mad at you, baby. should’ve knocked on my door for a different reason but hey, least you’re my girl now.” 

he moved your head to the side, smashing his lips onto yours in a messy kiss. “go on sweets. cum.” he ordered.

you didn’t need to be told twice. 

your sweet juices spilled out over his length, body collapsing completely over the bed. satoru slowed his movements, fucking back your orgasm into you before spilling his seed in you. 

“nice and deep.. good girl.” 

his thumb shifted to turn off the toy, throwing it somewhere in the room. his cock slipped out of you making you whine. 

“oh? you want more? should’ve just said so, love.”

his hands grabbed onto yours waist, flipping you over so now you were both face to face. “let’s try this position now.”

the neighbors might’ve gotten a few weeks of peace, but they now had to deal with satoru fucking the pretty girl that lived on the same floor.

[ochiody]

day 3: promise/this is where my heart is

[pillsatoru]

⤷ BACK OF THE NET

呪術廻戦 after overhearing you playing piano, satoru seems to have fallen hard for you. the only problem? he's not allowed to date. but who's to stop him.

TAGS ⎯⎯ pianist f! reader & soccer player! gojo ┆ 9.7k words . fluff , a bit of angst , unsupportive parents , geto will be ooc (?) college au , brief smut, gojo falls first and hard . fic reupload art by @thatsallitchief

If you were to tell gojo three years ago that he had fallen in love during college, the boy would have laughed in your face.

But it's true, Gojo is in love.

And not with a cheerleader from his games, a sorority he'd hooked up with or a stripper he'd have charmed with his stupid grin.

But with a pianist.

A very gorgeous and talented one who he would sit down next to hours on end, listening to the new song you had learned to play. a beauty he would die for. And most importantly, the girl that he is one minute away from getting down on a knee for.

And it all started with a forgotten notebook.

⟢ 

"Where the fuck is my notebook." Gojo muttered, searching his backpack twice. Then he looked in his locker, his gym bag, under the bench, even. His eyebrows furrowed until a groan left his lips.

It wasn't like it magically grew a pair of legs, but he still looked behind the vending machine as well. Just to be extra sure. 

"This cannot be happening.." The last he needed was losing the one journal he actually used and the one that had his homework in it, especially not after a long night of practice that had his limbs feeling like spaghetti noodles. He just wanted to go home and drool into his pillow, sleeping off into another world.

"Looking for something?" Suguru chimed in, watching as his friend pulled out everything from inside his locker. His soccer uniform dropped onto the floor but Gojo was too exhausted to even care.

He shot a scowl towards the pierced boy. "My notebook man.. I lost it."

Gojo tried to recall where he had last used it. But there was no hope with how fried his brain was. He dropped his body dramatically onto the bench with a whine that sounded like it had come from a child.

"I have Monday's assignment in there."

"For what class?" Suguru slipped on his shirt over his body, closing his locker shut before turning to Satoru. "Biochemistry.." That’s when the memory hit him straight in the face.

He had left the notebook in his class, on the desk he sat in right next to the window.

Gojo immediately stood up, causing his head to feel dizzy, grabbing his bag to place on his broad shoulder. "Gotta go, see ya." He gave his friend a quick harsh pat on his back, rushing towards the door.

How could he be so dumb to leave it behind?

He has been so focused on his upcoming winter game that he was in a rush to get to practice on time.

You’re late three times to practice? You’re out. 

The walk to his science class was a blur. Dodging small talk from other teammates and the cold weather practically freezing his balls off.

By the time he reached his biochem room, the hallway was eerily quiet as he slipped into the classroom.

There it was, sitting right there on his desk.

He could almost cry tears of joy.

Gojo let out a breath of relief, retrieving back the journal full of doodles and important notes. But most importantly, a poorly drawn portrait of his professor as a disgruntled frog that would definitely get him in trouble if said professor got his hands on it.

He clutched it close to his chest dramatically.

The door clicked quietly behind him. He was about to head towards his car that was parked in front of the field when a sudden sound floated down the hallway, reaching his ears.

It was music.

Well, a piano.

That's what it was.

The notes were as delicate as the raindrops that were hitting the window.

His head tilted to the side, following where the tunes were coming from in between the crack of the door.

Gojo knew he should have just gone home and attempted to get more than four hours of sleep for once, but the sound had him entranced like a siren call.

And that's when he saw you for the first time.

You looked so focused, eyes locked on the keys under your pretty fingers. You haven’t noticed him yet, peeking through the crack of the door like a creep.

Gojo held himself closer, steadying his body on the door, trying to get a good look at you. Maybe he could make out your face if he leaned in just a bit closer. But he only managed to fall, causing the door to open wide and for you to freeze.

Your fingers hovered over the piano, eyes blown wide completely startled.

"Oh my gosh- I am so sorry!" he exclaimed, pushing himself off the ground, wincing at the feeling of a now forming bruise on his knee. He was tripping over his words, trying to explain why he was even peeking in the first place, but he fell silent when you approached him. 

You had to be an angel with the way you were staring up at him. "Are you alright?" your voice was even better. It was so gentle.

'Angels play the piano.. I had no idea' gojo thought. 

"Uhhhhh, yeah. yeah, I'm alright." He answered quietly, eyes drawn to your lips. "You play really beautifully"

"Oh, thank you."

"Yup!" With that, he rushed out the door, face blushed to the max and heart beating faster than it does when he's out on the field. 'Holy fuck, who was that beauty?' His hand felt light.

Way too light. 

 He looked down just to see that he had forgotten his notebook, again. 

Gojo would rather dig a hole and die in it than go back and face you after his sudden departure. 

Your footsteps clicked on the floor, tilting your head to see gojo standing there, contemplating if he should turn around or not. "Hi again, you forgot this.." 

You lifted up his journal. 

"R-right, I forgot about that." He let out a nervous chuckle, reaching behind him doing a little grabby motion with his hand, back still turned towards you.

You were confused by his behavior but didn't question it, gently placing the book in his hand.

"Thank you." The flushed boy squeaked out. 

You bit back a smile, watching as he tried to discreetly sneak a look at you over his shoulder. 

"No problem!" you chirped, turning around to walk back into the music room. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, body now turned to fully face your figure as you walked away. 

"... Wow." he whispered. 

⟢ 

"And then she smiled up at me, like the prettiest smile I have ever seen. I'm not even joking that girl is heaven sent. I regret not running after her because oh my god, Suguru- Suguru are you even listening to me?" 

"I’ma keep it a buck, fuck no." Suguru grumbled, scrolling on his phone which was far more interesting than the summarization Gojo has been giving him for the past two hours. 

"You're an ass." Gojo grumbled, flopping on his belly on his bed, messing up his navy blue covers. "Let me see if she has instagram.. wait fuck, I dunno her name."

"Wait, you have a crush on a girl whose name you do not know?" The black haired boy stared away from the screen, looking up at his enamored best friend. 

"Well like I was saying, she slipped from my fingers last night. I was too shocked from her ethereal face to even process anything" 

"Then I don't fucking know what to tell ya, just leave me the hell alone."

Gojo hummed. "Whatever." he swung his feet in the air, twirling around his hair as he thought back to you. His friend gave him a look of disgust because never in his 15 years of being friends with Satoru had he ever seen him in love. 

It freaked him out. 

⟢

Gojo brought the ice pack to his cheek, mumbling a curse under his breath. The daydreamer was knocked out of his pondering when the soccer ball hit him straight in the cheek bone, smacking him hard enough to bruise. 

He received a quick scolding from his coach on how he needed to get his head out of his ass and start playing harder now that the final game was closing in.

One second he was imagining you and your sweet smile and the other he was on the ground. He physically couldn't stop thinking back at you and the events of last night. Gojo threw away the bag with the now melted ice in a nearby trash can, slowly making his way to the music room.

'please be there, please be there, please please please!'

And then..

"Thank you god..." he whispered at the sight of you. 

You were walking so peacefully, flipping the pages full of music in your hands, trying to pick which song to practice tonight. A stupid smile grew on Gojo's face. You had on a simple but cute white blouse and a brown skirt, the typical outfit you'd expect a pianist to wear.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, too focused to notice the 6 foot boy practically stalking you in the dark. He did a little inner cheer, beaming with happiness after you finally looked up, making eye contact with him.

"Oh, hello." You greeted him sweetly. "You're the guy who face planted yesterday, right?"

He froze, embarrassed. 

"Yea.. I'm Satoru." He held the door open for you, watching as you entered before closing the door behind him. He flashed you his dorky but genuine smile but quickly regretted it. 'Why the hell did I do that? What's wrong with me?' Any negative thoughts disappeared the second you giggled, making his brain short-circuit.

"I'm y/n."

He gave himself a pat on the back at achieving your name. "y/n, huh?" He tested it out himself, looking around to prevent himself from ogling you.

"So um, last night, I didn't get to listen to you finish playing that song."

You grabbed the back of your skirt, sitting down on the piano chair, patting the fabric down so it didn't stick up awkwardly.

"The one I was doing before you so rudely interrupted me?" Your focus shifted back onto him, scooting on the piano seat to make room for him.

He was surprised at the offer, but quickly acted on it. The muscular boy happily sat down next to his new crush.

"I can play it again if you'd like. It was love me by Elvis Presley."  You positioned your fingers on their assigned keys, glancing at Satoru. 

The simple eye contact drove him crazy. Gojo could feel the back of his neck heating up but shook it off as you began to play. 

Your fingers glided around the keyboard out of pure memory. It made him hold his breath so he wouldn't miss hearing a second. His eyes weren't set on your hands but on your face, fully focused. It was enough for his heart to run wild. Not like it wasn’t already. 

You ended the song with one final push on the keyboard, looking up at him and the stupid smile that was plastered on his face. 

"That was good.. really good" 

"I know." You grinned. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as his tongue darted out to lick his slightly chapped lips. 

"Do you play?" 

Gojo hummed. "Nah. I’d like to, but I’m too busy with soccer." 

"You play soccer?" You asked curiously. 

"Yeah, you couldn't tell from my sweat?"

"I thought you just had a bad sweating problem."

Gojo let out a groan. "that's fuckin' embarrassing." He dragged a hand down his face. 

a snort escaped you unknowingly, making him turn to look at you again, forcing you to bring your hand up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry." 

"For what?"

He did not care. like at all. 

"Um.. nothing. So, is listening to me play the piano all you came back for?" 

The hand that previously rubbed his face now made its way to the back of his neck, nervously rubbing it.

"Sort of, I came back mostly because I wanted to get to know you. I've never seen you before and I just.. I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime." His own words surprised him. That is not at all the reason he showed up. 

A faint blush attacked your cheeks. "Really?" Your voice softened even more.

"Yeah, really."

You were hesitant, but eventually nodded. "I'd really like that." 

But he was thankful his mouth spoke involuntarily. “Yeah? Great, that’s great..”  

⟢

Gojo gently closed the door behind him, letting out a tired sigh. His hands were covering the bottom half of his face, not being able to process the fact that he asked you out, and you said yes. 

He began walking to his dorm, ready to tell Suguru what happened. His hands were shaky, opening up his phone to stare at the new contact on his list. Yours. He clicked on the edit button, replacing the number with your name. 

“Suguru!” Gojo yelled after entering his room. “Bro bro bro,” he smacked the exposed back of his friend, to which Suguru responded by smacking it away. “I did it, I asked her out and I got her number.” 

Suguru grunted. “So?”

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Dude, can you at least pretend to be proud of me? Fuck you so negative for?”

Suguru placed his phone down, shifting to lay against his elbow to face gojo. “Just confused and weirded out that you’re serious about a girl. You’re always sleeping around so yeah, it’s fucking weird that you’re suddenly Mr. Lover Boy.” 

Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, I'm sorry if it's so "strange" for you to acknowledge that I can actually feel love."

He felt hurt at the fact that he was seen as incapable of feeling such strong sentiments towards someone. Yes, it was right that he used to stick his dick in every girl that would give him bedroom eyes in the past just for fun, but he's calmed down. And right now, he even more so now that you have entered his life, and he doesn't expect you to leave anytime soon.

"Your parents won't like it if they find out you're getting distracted."

Gojo's parents have this stupid belief that if a woman were to appear in his schedule, it would mess up his future. Soccer has been his top priority since grade school, having games every other month and practices every day for hours. Even when he tried explaining that he no longer enjoyed the sport, he got shamed.

"You have talent, son." His father would remind him.

But Gojo didn't want to kick around a ball.

He never wanted to. 

He wanted to push his fingers down the keys of the piano, just like you did. He wanted to learn how to read music and to perform on big stages that didn't consist of roaring crowds cheering when a goal was scored, but a quiet audience that appreciated the art he was creating.

That was a dream that he cherished for years, keeping it a secret from everyone, especially from his un-supportive family. If they found out he would rather play an instrument rather than play a sport? He’d be a huge disappointment.” 

"They don't have to know." Gojo shot back.

"They'll find out eventually. Just don't waste your time with her, we both know how batshit crazy your family is."

"I'm fucking aware and I don't need to hear it from you right now."

Suguru was sitting properly now, scowling up at the now agitated boy. He knew he was being an ass, but he was just looking out for gojo. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

"You clearly do if you're actually considering going out with her."

"I'm not considering, I am going out with her."

It was a back and forth argument that seemed as if it had no end.

"Whatever, you better not come crying to me when they hear about this. You already know what I will say."

I told you so. 

Gojo was already making his way to his room, shutting the door loudly. He hated getting reminded of his parents. Even in college when he thought he'd finally get away from them, they still continue to haunt him.

He fell over his bed, taking off his shirt and bringing the covers up to cover his torso. He took deep breaths, scrolling on his phone before opening up your contact again.

His fingers began moving.

Satoru 

'Hellooo. Me, you, cafe tomorrow?'

He held his breath, awaiting your response. 

You replied shortly after, which he was thankful for.

You

'Hi! Yes sounds yum! what time?'

Skipping practice shouldn't harm him. He hasn’t missed any yet, so it’d be his first strike. If it meant sacrificing it for you, he would do it.

'Does 3 work for you?'

'Mhmmm, I have to be back before 8 tho!'

He chuckled. Did you have a curfew at 20 years old?

'Alright, noted. See you then.'

'Okay goodnight ! <3'

Oh my god. 

You sent a heart and you said goodnight.

That clearly meant something right? You are interested in him, you sent a heart. He bit his inner cheek to prevent a stupid giggle from slipping out. He hearted your message, exiting the app.

From outside his door, he could hear Suguru turn on the tv, probably to play some video game of his. Gojo sighed, standing up to go join him despite the previous argument. He was still his best buddy at the end of the day.

"Make room." He murmured, pushing the black haired boy's feet off the couch to make space for him to sit on.

Suguru handed him the second controller without a question, splitting the screen into two. They played in silence until the sun fully set and the moon rose. 

⟢ 

You patted down your blouse, turning to your side to stare at yourself in the mirror. Is this too little for a first date? Or was it too much? No boy has ever asked you out, not because you were unattractive, far from that actually, but because you always kept to yourself.

Many saw you as boring, shy, timid, unapproachable. But Gojo saw past that.

You did a little spin for yourself, showing off your pretty outfit. This should be good.

Gojo on the other hand was panicking as well. 

He didn't know if he should just throw on another of his polo shirts or a sweater. He had his clothes spread out on his bed to make it easier for him to choose.

He settled on a brown patterned sweater with his white shirt underneath and his usual black jeans. 

After receiving the message that you were ready, he rushed out the door, bringing the car’s engine to life. 

Gojo went over potential lines, like the hopeless romantic he had grown to be.

"Looking as gorgeous as ever." No, way too soon to say that. "Nice rack." No no, definitely not that. Shit, should he have gotten you flowers? Wait, he doesn't know which you prefer. He should first figure that out and then get you some. You looked like a tulip girl, or maybe roses? 

His nose scrunched up. Did he put on cologne today? Did he stink? what if you thought he smelt bad. 

What about his hair? Did it look greasy? He took a double shower today, shaved his entire body, just in case. 

All negative thoughts left his head once he reached your house. You were standing out there waiting for him, looking around cutely with your hair blowing around a bit from the winter wind.

He clenched his jaw close, not wanting it to fall open.

Your eyes landed on his car, face brightening. You gave him a little wave, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you made your way down the street to him.

Gojo came back to earth, jumping out of his seat to go over to the passengers side, opening the door. "You're so pretty." he complimented, watching you sit down.

"Thank you!" You happily chirped.

He walked over to his side once again, typing out the location of the cafe on the console, previously where your address was written.

You both began with small talk. How your classes were going, why you even chose the university, all of that. 

“So, why soccer?” You asked. 

“Well, like I said, my parents wanted me to do something impressive, y'know? I’ve been playing since I was like five. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“I highly doubt that.” 

Your words made his cheeks warm up.

“Why piano?” He forced himself to speak, praying you hadn't noticed the way his hands were gripping the steering wheel. 

You hummed in thought. “I don’t know actually. I’ve always liked music and I thought the piano was cool, so I just stuck to it. I tried out guitar before but piano was easier for me.” 

Gojo listened intently, almost as if your words were the most important things to ever exist. 

“I play for the school from time to time.” 

"Is that so? I'll go and support you if you promise to come to my game."

You nodded. "Deal! I'll even wear your jersey."

Fuck. he'd like that. a lot.

"Noted." A breathy chuckle left him.

Your destination wasn't far, but traffic made it seem as if it was. "Think we're here." He looked around, parking the car just as the generated voice set on the map spoke out.

'You have arrived.'

⟢

The date went well, really well.

You even went as far as holding hands as the two of you made your way into the heart of the town center, admiring the Christmas decorations they had set up, laughing at the way they made The Grinch appear. 

“Hold on, stand over there let me take a picture!” He pointed over at the cardboard cutout of the character with a silhouette of a person with a hole cut out where the face should be, allowing people to place their head in. 

You smiled after posing. 

The phone’s camera snapped, taking a couple of pictures. 

‘Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.’ Gojo grinned, showing you the captures he had taken to you once you made your way back to him. 

“Let’s take one together!” You offered. 

His heart beat overtook the holiday music playing, beating loud as hell as you got closer to him for the picture. He gulped, shyly wrapping his arm around your shoulder, forcing himself to look at the camera and not you. 

But eventually the day came to an end, and with your curfew hour approaching, he drove you home.

"Hey so um, I was wondering if we could do this again soon?" He internally cringed at how desperate he sounded.

"Of course. I mean, obviously."

Satoru bit back a smile, knowing it was no use with the way his face was shifting to a soft pink color.

He pulled up to your now familiar house, watching you gather your things, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He quickly scrambled out of his seat, rushing over to your side to open the door. You chuckled at how hard he tried, but you appreciated it.

"Thank you."

You both stood in front of each other, the silence heavy. He leaned in, wanting to close the small distance in between you two, but the sound of your neighbor's dog barking snapped him back into reality.

He cleared his throat, taking a small step back. "So um, I'll see you."

"Yeah, see you." You took a couple of steps before turning back around. “I had a lot of fun today, Satoru.”

You reached up on your toes, pecking his cheek gently. A gasp broke from Gojo before hearing the soft clack of your heels disappear with every step you took up to your front door, turning around one last time to wave goodbye at him.

Gojo's hand slowly made its way to touch the area where you had kissed him.

There's no doubt.

He was in love.

Gojo made his way into his dorm room, locking it behind him. 

He threw his sweater onto a chair, leaving him in his undershirt, making his way to the couch, plopping down on it. His forearm laid over his forehead thinking back to you and how well your date went.

He smiled softly, clearly satisfied.

Suguru heard the door close, indicating his friend had come home. He went out to greet him but the view of him laying on the couch, eyes closed but smile intact, his face shifted. He knew gojo was in too deep.

And he knew that sooner or later, shit would go down.

⟢ 

"No no.. that one's an eight note." You pointed at the music sheets in front of you.

"It deadass looks like a sixteenth note." He argued.

"No it doesn't!"

"This is way too complicated.." Gojo groaned, resting his head on his hand all while he averted his gaze from the papers to your pretty face.

He admired you, hand already reaching to fix a strand of hair, thumb lingering on your cheek.

"Satoru focus.." You whined, clearly distressed that your date couldn't understand the difference between two notes.

"Can't. You're too pretty."

His lips grazed yours for just a second, and in that second alone he was able to tell that one kiss wasn't going to be enough.

Your hands placed themselves on his shoulders, previously on the piano seat, returning the sweet short pecks he kept initiating.

His hands went behind your back, bringing your body closer to his.

"Quarter note.. treple clef-" He mumbled against your lips.

"Treble clef." You corrected him.

"Whatever."

After four successful dates, Gojo finally got what, or who, he wanted. You. He finally got you. 

And he was the happiest bastard on earth. 

“Want to go to the mall, baby?” He said against your lips, tugging at your lower lip. 

“Mmm, yeah okay!” You chirped before wincing at his biting. “Ouch! Toru!” 

He grinned, licking at where he bit. “Sorry. I just love these pretty lips so much.” 

“Yeah yeah..” You rolled your eyes, laughing at the sudden tickle attack he declared against your tummy, poking at the sides. 

“Let’s get going.” 

⟢

The shoes were put on display so any shoppers could get a brief glance at it before deciding if it was worth buying or not. You stared at them for a while. They were a pretty pair of Mary Jane's. Low heeled but had some chunk put into the platform part and they had a strap that wrapped around the ankle. The bow in the middle of it was small but it added so much to the design.

You always asked your mom for a pair whenever you went out with her and your sister. She always dismissed it, saying they were too expensive. But here they are, only $40.99. Your gaze turned to look at the big poster they had plastered on the window. a new month's deal. 'Buy one get one 50% off!'

Gojo approached you holding a bag full of pizza bits and a single large cup of lemonade intended for the both of you to share from Weltzels pretzels. He took the sight of you looking at a pair of shoes so intently, almost like you were debating buying them.

"Do you like those?" He asked, offering you the small warm bag of food before he took a sip of the drink in his hand. You happily accepted the treats before shrugging. "Not sure."

He hummed. "You've been staring at them for a while now."

"They just remind me of a pair I used to want when I was a kid. But they were always "too expensive" so my mom never got them for me. But she was always willing to drop a grand on bags she would never even use." You saw at the corner of your eyes Gojo reaching to grab a piece of the pizza from the bag.

He didn't say anything for a while, just staring at the shoes as well as he chewed on his pizza bit. Then, he turned and walked off into the store, leaving you standing confused. Your eyes followed as he talked to an employee, pointing at the pair of shoes displayed on the window. Specifically, the pair you wanted. The clerk nodded before disappearing behind the door that read 'workers only!'

"Um, baby?" You whispered out, following him inside the store to where Gojo was standing, still sipping onto his comically large drink.

"Uh hey what are you doing?" You asked once you reached him. He glanced back at you, reaching to grab another piece from inside the bag. "Checking if they have those shoes in your size."

You mumbled his name awkwardly as you shifted the now empty bag in your hands because that biggie ate them all. He took a bite from the treat before feeding it to you. "Shh, I'm working."

The worker returned with a box in his hand. "Size seven?" Gojo nodded, taking the box in his hands, gesturing for you to sit down on the seats provided by the store. "Hey you don't have to.."

"I know," he interrupted. "I want to."

He got down on one knee, placing the cup he was previously sipping on next to you. His hands moved to open up the shoe box, carefully taking out the pair of black mary janes. "Give me your foot" he patted his knee. "Here."

"I can put them on myself.."

"I want to, love." He said sternly, forcing your foot to rest on his knee. "I'm going to stain your pants-" you mumbled embarrassed. He squeezed your calf before slipping off the shoes you were wearing right now, grabbing the shoe, carefully putting it on your right foot. "Not too loose or tight?"

You shook your head. "No.. they're.. they're perfect." He hummed, his skilled fingers adjusted the strap on your ankle handling you like you were the most valuable thing to him. He looked up at you, his expression softened the second your eyes met. "Just like you." Your eyes widened the second he said that, blush overtaking your face.

You tried saying something but nothing came out. Not like you could with the way your throat was drying up. I mean, your boyfriend of what, a month (?) was offering to buy you these expensive shoes out of nowhere. You reached for the cup of lemonade next to you as he worked on your left foot, only to realize he already finished the drink as well.

Is this the type of greed they talk about in the bible?

"Stand up." he ordered in which you complied. You looked down at the fresh pair on your feet, walking around a bit to test them out.

"You like 'em?" he asked again. You turned to him, walking to be right next to him. "Yeah, I like them. A lot"

He hummed in acknowledgment. "Well, go and look for another pair. They have the bogo discount anyway, so might as well take advantage of it." He stood up, brushing his jeans from the small stain you left behind.

"No.. no that's too much! This is more than enough! Besides, you shouldn't be spending so much on me, you already paid for dinner today-"

"Baby, seriously. I don't care if I drop a grand on you, you can make it up to me by allowing me to kiss you numb. Go get another pair." He looked around the store before his eyes landed on a pair of converse. "Get some converse, your black ones are all beat up."

"I like them that way." You argued as you took off the shiny shoes before replacing them with said beat up converse. "Well I don't. makes you look like a sad homeless lady. I want my girl to have pretty clothes to match her pretty face."

You sighed, feeling your heart warm up.

"I'm not throwing these converse away. They hold too many memories."

His hand reached for yours. "Yeah no, we can burn them ceremonially later." He brought your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles one by one with his pink tinted lips.

He was so entranced by your face, he failed to notice the pair of eyes staring you both down. 

⟢ 

“Hey baby!” You coo’ed into the phone, hearing your boyfriend's tired grunts from the other side. 

“Morning my pretty girl.” He yawned, dragging a hand over his face. 

“It’s four toru, did you just wake up?” 

Gojo carefully sat up, watching his bedsheets pool down at his lap, exposing his bare chest. His nipples hardened at the cold air, and he didn’t have to be fully awake to know that he was hard.

Rock hard. 

Your voice wasn’t helping out at all. 

“Just calling to ask if you’d like to come watch me perform later?” 

Your question snapped him from his horny ass thoughts. “What? Baby, you’re having a show later? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” 

Usually, he knew when you had piano practices and performances. 

“I just.. didn’t know if you wanted to sit down for two hours.” 

Gojo sighed, not liking the way you even considered thinking he could be bored from watching you do what you love. 

“If it meant watching my girl play, I’d gladly sit down for more than a couple hours. I can sit for decades.” 

“Toru..” 

“I’ll be there. When did you say it was again?” He rubbed at his eyes, feeling his crusties fall down. 

“Today at seven.” 

He froze for a split second, remembering he had practice. It had completely slipped from his mind.

“Seven..” He repeated softly to himself. Practice was at five, and it lasted two hours and a half. 

He had gotten in trouble from ditching last time so he could take you out. ‘Three strikes, you’re out.’ But it would only be his second. He could handle another scolding from his coach. His voice was already echoing through his mind. 

The pause rushed to fill it. “It’s okay if you can’t. I know I’m asking last minute, it was just-” 

“I’ll be there,” he cut in. 

“Are you sure-” 

“Positive. I'm positive sweetheart.” His voice was firmer now. 

“Wait, don’t you have practice today?” You faintly remembered him telling you a couple days back how his schedule had changed from practice going from every even day to every odd day. 

“Yeah, but you really think I need it? I’m as ready as ever” 

“Toru..”

“Seriously baby, I’ll be there for you.” His eyes shifted back down to his raging boner. “..Can you come over before you go over to set up your piano though?” 

“Oh, yeah, is something wrong?” 

“... Just need you.” 

Gojo wasn’t a virgin, far from that actually. but with the way his body was warming up and heart beating a thousand miles an hour, he could be mistaken as one.

He waited patiently for you to arrive at his dorm. 

Fuck. 

Would your panties be pink? Or would they be black. 

Or better yet, blue? 

“Yo.” Geto knocked at Gojo’s door, despite it already being cracked open. “I’m heading out now to go to practice. You coming?” 

“Uh, yeah. I just need to do something quick then I’ll make my way over.” 

“Don’t miss again. The coach will be on your ass like last time.” He chuckled, waving bye at the white haired boy. 

Gojo bit the inside of his cheek, laying back on his arms, deep in his thoughts as always. You were worth it. 

That’s not a question.

⟢

“Oh my god, fuck. Yes baby, fuck!” Gojo closed his eyes, panting like a damn dog on a sunny day. 

The way your puffy folds were stretched over him only encouraged him to go faster and harder, hitting your cervix at a perfect angle. 

“Pretty fucking pussy, you’re so goddamn pretty, look at you.”

Your performance dress was sitting on the ground while your panties were ripped in the middle, right at your entrance. 

“Toru!”

You whimpered, hiding your face in his pillow. "Don't hide yourself from me, baby. wanna see ya.”

The headboard was hitting against the wall with a thud and Gojo could only pray that the other students staying at the dorms couldn’t hear them.  

He buried himself deeper into your cunt, bottoming out. 

“You’re too big…” you squealed, gripping onto the now wet bedsheets. 

“I know. And you’re too tight.” 

His hand shifted to grope your ass, fondling the plush meat, hips not stopping or slowing. 

Your breathless pleas were like music to his ears. 

“My pretty girlfriend.. mmm aren’t you so pretty?” he praised. The veins in his arms were more evident now. One was appearing on his forehead in concentration, trying to figure out the best way to make you cum. 

You were a virgin after all. 

Profanities spilled from both your lips, feeling yourself clench harder around him. A ring of pre was forming just at the base of his cock, like a damn tattoo. 

“Babe! T-think I’m close!”

He grunted lowly. “Don’t cum just yet.” The squelches have now turned sloppier, and louder, and hotter. 

His white bangs were sticking to his forehead no thanks to the thin layer of sweat that had formed. 

“Not done with you yet.” 

His hands placed themselves both on your hips, thick fingertips rubbing you lovingly before flipping you over without slipping out. 

He wasted no time smacking at your cunt, watching your wetness fly into the air with each spank. 

“Satoru…!” You felt lightheaded in the best way possible. Your drool dripped down your chin, watching him thrust in and out. The hair that trailed down his belly button to join his pubes just made you tighten onto his aching cock even more. 

How could your boyfriend be this beautiful? 

Gojo hesitated, pulling you closer to his hips, latching a hand lightly to your neck. 

“Is this okay?” 

You nodded feeling him squeeze it. 

The sounds of your breathy moans, messy cunt along with the smack of his balls that hit your ass with every thrust had you both in a trance.

So much so that you didn’t seem to notice the door shutting and the sudden appearance of Geto who was frozen in his place, looking absolutely mortified. 

“What the fuck.” 

His voice broke through your needy whines. “Satoru!” This time his voice sounded harsher, angrier. 

Gojo’s movements came to a halt, keeping his grip on your waist. His body covered you, blocking you from his friends' view. But he knew for a fact that Geto already had in mind who was in the bed with him. 

You quickly brought the sheets to your chest in an attempt to cover yourself.  

“... Ever heard of knocking?” Gojo mumbled. 

“The door was fucking open. I could see you from the kitchen.” Geto did not advance from his spot on the doorframe. “Don’t tell me you actually got with her.”

Gojo hasn't told him about the two of you yet. Or anyone really. 

You never questioned it, thinking he’d want to take it slow before he introduced you to his friends let alone family. You had just started dating a couple weeks back. But the way his friend said it ‘don’t tell me you actually got with her.’ left a bad taste in your mouth. 

What did he mean by that? 

“Geto, seriously get out of the room.” 

“Your parents are going to kill you Satoru,” He was more animated now, hands waving in the air angrily. His own thoughts didn’t let him process the way Gojo used his last name on him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice right now? What the hell are you doing man-”

“I said get out!” You’ve never heard Gojo’s voice beam like that. 

Ever.  

It got across though. Geto slammed the door shut, storming off. 

Gojo sighed, staring at the wall before averting his gaze down to you, smiling softly. “Guess the moment is over, huh?” 

Your fingers twitched on his shoulders, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Why’d he say that?” 

His eyebrows furrowed, face shifting to one of concern at your shaky voice. 

“Hey hey, baby, it’s okay shh..” 

His softening cock slipped out of you with a small pop, arms circling around you to bring you into a hug. 

“My family.. Is an ass. A big fucking ass. They’re strict with me, especially my love life. They think they know what’s best for me but fuck, no they dont. I know what’s right for me and that’s you, love. It’s you.” 

His lips grazed at your cheek, pecking lightly. 

“It’s been you since I laid eyes on you.” 

⟢

His words looped over and over in your head as you mentally prepared yourself for your upcoming performance. 

From behind the curtain, you peeked out to see him sitting in his designated seat, head tilted down at his digital camera, adjusting the settings, waiting for you to come out so he could preserve the moment forever. 

Your teeth sank into the inside of your cheek, now becoming a new habit of yours, pacing back into the backstage area. 

If you've practiced the song multiple times, you shouldn’t be nervous. 

Right?

Wrong. 

Because the problem wasn’t the notes or the tempo, it was that you’d chosen this song with him in mind. 

“Want to watch La La Land?” Satoru mumbled earlier that month, scratching the back of his neck while the other lazily clicked away at the remote control. 

“Sure!” You tossed the blanket over your bodies,  snuggling close to his warm bare chest. “How are you not cold?” You pressed your cheek against him. 

“Hm?” His eyes landed on you after pressing ‘play’. “I am cold. I just want to show off my amazing muscles to my amazing girl.” 

“Weirdo.” 

Neither of you have watched the film before. but somehow ended up falling in love with it. You with the music, and him with the storyline. 

“I hope we never end up like them.” His voice was a whisper, silently wrapping his arms tight around you.

“Toru-”

“Never, ever leaving you, baby. Fuck soccer and you know what, fuck piano too. Don’t leave me.” 

You heard your name be called out, indicating you were next. 

You quickly patted down your skirt with trembling hands, stepping in front  of the mirror to make sure your hair, makeup, posture, everything was perfect.

The stage manager gave you a nod and you finally stepped out. 

His eyes landed on you immediately, smiling lovingly up at you. You could feel your chest tighten as you sat at the piano, fingers already hovering over the keys. 

From the distance, you could hear the sound of something clicking, his camera. 

You inhaled before pushing down your fingers, allowing the melody to unfold. You’d discreetly look over at him, seeing how he stared at you so preciously. 

By the final note, your hands had stopped shaking. 

The room erupted in applause, the loudest coming from Satoru. You bowed, eyes never leaving him even when you stepped offstage, rushing towards him. 

“Satoru!” 

He didn’t let another word come out of you, automatically cupping your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours. 

“Such a cruel girl.” He pecked again. “You picked that song on purpose didn’t ya?”

You giggled. “Maybe.” 

His thumb rubbed under your eye gently. 

“You did amazing, sweetheart.” 

⟢

Satoru has come to notice that the only way you were able to practice piano was using the school’s. 

And with Christmas approaching, he figured it’d only be appropriate if he got you one of your own. 

His hands covered your eyes, leading you carefully to the living room where your present was. 

“Alright, 3..2..1.” 

His hands fell allowing you to see. you blinked, eyes adjusting to the bright lights on the tree.

Your jaw dropped. 

In front of you was none other than a console piano. It wasn’t like the one in the music room where you practiced in and the only place you knew that had the instrument available for use, but regardless it was beautiful. 

And completely yours. 

“You like it?” He asked, rubbing your back. You nodded excitedly. “Of course I do! Thank you!” Your face was as bright as the Christmas lights, beaming at the new piano that sat in your living room. 

“I'm glad..” he whispered, letting go of you so you could look at it closer. 

You squealed, slightly jumping up and down at it. he groaned at the recoil of your ass which was visible under your plaid skirt. 

“It's so gorgeous!” your fingers pushed down on the keys. 

“Just like you.” 

“So cheesy” You said before bursting into laughter as his hands found your stomach, tickling you. You braced yourself on the piano's surface. That's when you felt it. 

His very prominent boner that was straining his pants. 

Gojo noticed that you noticed. 

A smirk appeared on that stupid face of his. “How about we check how sturdy this sucker is.” He placed a hand on your gift. 

Gojo’s hips snapped forward with a ruthless pace, each thrust making you hit against the brand new instrument and begin to rattle with all his strength.

His breath was coming out in short pants, chest pressed up against your back, pinning you harder against the surface of the piano. You whispered out his name like a prayer, every sound you made reached his ears and that only seemed to push him even further.

“So goddamn beautiful.” He praised.

At some point, words became too difficult for you to say, resulting in you answering with only moans and whimpers. gojo’s fingers were digging into your hips, leaving crescent like marks on them. He kept pounding into you harshly, tip already brushing against a sweet spot inside you.

“Right there!” You begged along with a loud mewl.

Your skirt was bunched up in his hands, almost tearing the fabric apart as he felt himself grow closer. 

“Here?” he began going deeper, watching you fall apart. The bounce of your ass was not helping, especially with the way it slapped against his thighs. His lower lip was in between his teeth, letting out grunts of his own spill. 

You were both thankful your parents weren’t home. He wouldn’t want to ruin the image they had of him this quickly. Of the perfect guy for their daughter already fucking her numb over her christmas present. 

“Think m’cummin!” You sobbed out, reaching behind you to grab his waist for support. He coo’ed softly, hand leaving your skirt to hold your hand in his. “Me too baby, let’s finish together alright? I'm cumming inside you. no way am i able to pull out this tight fuckin pussy.”

You nodded. 

“Please fill me up!” Gojo grinned once he heard that. “If ya say so darling.” 

Your legs gave up on you at the feeling of his warm seed filling you to the brim. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth open with sounds still coming out as your orgasm hit you as well. 

“Good girl baby.” His arms were wrapped around your waist, pecking your temple lovingly. “Stay with me..” 

You both stayed in that position, dick still twitching inside you before softening, forcing him to slip out with a loud squelch that made you cringe. 

“M’guessing you loved your gift?” He reached down for your panties, sliding them back on you but not before watching his semen ooze out of your cunt along with yours. He fought the urge to stick his tongue in you to clean the mess up, but he could tell you were already overstimulated, so he decided to eat you out some other time. 

And by that I mean in a few hours. 

“Yeah.. thank you.. so much..” You whimpered at the sting on your ass after he slapped it. Gojo quickly zipped his pants back up, pushing his hair back with a pant. 

“Of course my love. you better play me every song you know on it.” 

“Will do..” you smiled weakly up at him. 

“I'm gonna go get ya water, cmon sit down on the couch sweetheart.” 

You did as he said, carefully sitting down. The feeling of his cum sticking to your panties just made you clench your thighs. 

Why did he have to be so sexy? 

You stared back at your piano, admiring it. You were already thinking of all the songs you would play from sunrise to sunset. 

Gojo walked back to the living room holding a glass of water, handing it over. 

“My final game is coming up.. So I have lots of practice to do. Hope the piano keeps you occupied while I’m away.” His arm wrapped over your shoulder, bringing you closer. 

“Mmmm that’s right.” 

“Wanna head over to a restaurant, baby?” He never hesitated in asking you, and he urged you to never be afraid in asking him for whatever you desired. 

“I’d really love that.” 

“Good good, let’s get going then.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. 

“Uh, no way am I going out to eat like this.” 

His eyebrow twitched in confusion. “Like what?” 

You motioned downstairs, lifting your skirt to show off the wet mess. 

Gojo laughed, smacking your thigh lightly. “No no, you gotta head out like that.”

“Absolutely not!” 

⟢

The dinner consisted of nothing but him staring at you.

“Babe, eat.” You urged.

“Can’t, the view is too nice.” 

After eating out, you both settled in heading over to his place. 

His laugh quieted down as he pulled into the parking lot, seeing two familiar snow colored haired people. He could feel his heart sink and blood boil. 

“Stay here darling.” He ordered you, squeezing your thigh. You mumbled a soft ‘ok’, attempting to look behind you out the window to see what was going on.

He got out of the vehicle, walking around to where the people he wanted to see the least were standing. His mother was biting her nails anxiously like a mad woman. His father had his arms crossed over his chest, a serious look displayed on his face. 

Then there was Suguru. looking as guilty as ever.

And it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. 

“Is that the girl?” His mother asked. She had never expected her son to be going out with a girl instead of sticking to his schedule. How dare he? “Is that your little girlfriend?” Her voice rose up. 

“What did we say about relationships?” his father reminded him. 

But all gojo could think about was the fact that they found out because of the tan boy standing not far away. 

“Are you fucking kidding me.” He stared at the one person he thought he could trust. His hands shot out to grab Suguru's shirt collar. 

“You told them?!” He was practically screaming in his face. But Suguru kept looking unbothered, as if he didn’t practically ruin Gojo’s life right now. 

“Son, calm down.” Gojo's father said sternly. 

“No, no how the hell am I supposed to calm down. You all keep getting in the way of my life. My life!” He was at the point of crying tears out of frustration. 

“She is just a girl, Satoru.” His mother said. “She woo’ed you with a few tunes so what, it’s not going to bring money into the family, is it? You need to find yourself a good woman. But right now, your focus is on your career. Not a girlfriend, and especially not her.” 

“You are no longer the one to decide what you think is best for me. I love her, mom. I don't care what you think, just know that I am not listening to anything you say.” 

That shut his mom up real quick, shooting him a death glare, one that would have 6 year old Gojo in tears by now. But he kept his head high. 

“Satoru, you have to understand that we want what’s best for you.” 

“No,” He interrupted, turning to look at his father now. “You want what’s best for you.”

He then turned his head towards Suguru, whose eyes were set on his shoes, knowing he completely lost his best friend's trust. It's not like he had a choice either but to tell the truth. His and Gojo's family were close, and he knew that if he were to lie to Gojos parents when they asked him why the coach had informed them that their son was on the verge of being kicked from the team, the families would have even more conflicts. 

Gojo wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but instead he walked right past the new stranger. 

“Can you hear me out for a second.” Geto caught up to him, ignoring the putrid sobs coming from Mrs. Gojo. “Satoru.” he called out. 

“Look man, did you really expect me to lie when they came to the dorm, worried sick that you missed two practices? What was I supposed to say?” 

“Tell them I was sick, that an emergency came up, I don’t know but you could’ve come up with a shitty excuse.” 

“Just for them to find out I didn't tell the truth and have our families fight over me being a liar?!” 

Gojo was breathing heavily, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set tight. but his face fell as soon as he remembered you were still in the car. 

He shook his head. “They can stay the fuck out of my life. And so can you.” 

Geto froze at that. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Trust me, I mean every bit.” The air around them felt heavy. “You chose them over me.”

“Gojo, the families-“ 

“You're just a damn puppet. Same as I was, but I learned to stop playing the role. Do you think they actually see you as their son? They see you as an accomplishment.”

He rushed down the stairs, approaching his car where you were still in, head hung low nervously as you played with the skin around your fingernails, clearly worried. His parents were standing outside the building, shooting dirty looks towards your way. 

“I'm driving you home.” Gojo said after entering the car, closing the door shut and clicking his seatbelt on. “Mind if I stay with you for a bit, baby?”

His eyes met yours. 

“… Did they want us to break up?” You asked quietly, scared to hear his response. 

He immediately grabbed your hand in his to reassure you. “You know I would never ever do that. You're everything to me no matter what they think or say, I'm not letting things end between us. Got it?” 

You hesitated, not wanting his parents to hate their only son because he chose you over them. “But what if they’re right? What if you can do better?” 

You heard. 

Of course you heard. Not like they were being quiet. 

His hold tightened. “Don't you start with that.” That's the last thing he said as he drove to yours, address no longer needed on the ups no thanks to the amount of times he’s been over. 

You worried over what his family would think of him now. 

Would they hate him because of you? 

⟢

The bed felt surprisingly cold.

Your boyfriend's back was turned towards you and even though his back muscles were on full display, you couldn’t ogle without having something eating you up from the inside. 

“Toru.. baby can we talk about earlier?”

“Love, if you’re going to tell me that they’re right I swear to god-”

“No,” You sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it down to the small of his back. “I just.. I feel like we shouldn’t wait until morning to discuss it.” 

Begrudgingly, Satoru turned around, meeting eyes with you. “I will never ever break up with you because my family thinks they know what is best for me. I cut them off on the spot. They’ve got no say in what I do with my life nor with the woman I love. I told you once and I’ll tell you again. I love you, okay?”

Your heart warmed and you felt your worriness ease. “I love you too.” 

“I’ve been wanting to get rid of them for a long ass time anyways.” He yawned, throwing an arm around your waist. “Just finally got a good excuse to do so.” 

Your lips met in a small but sweet peck. 

“Now let’s go to sleep.. Big game tomorrow.” 

⟢

Suguru seems to not have caught on to the fact that his former best friend no longer wanted to be a part of his life anymore. 

“Satoru, seriously let’s talk.” He begged like a desperate ex. 

The white haired boy only rolled his eyes in response, walking past him to reach his locker. “I don’t need you messing with my head before the game. Told you to stay the fuck away from me and I meant it.” 

He quickly tugged off his shirt and replaced it with his white and teal jersey before slamming his locker shut and turning to walk out. Suguru’s hand placed itself on Satoru’s chest only to get pushed off almost immediately. 

Satoru walked out, hearing the sound of the crowd cheering. He looked around until he spotted you sitting not too far from the front. 

He smiled stupidly at himself knowing he was right where he wanted to be. 

⟢

You stared at him like he grew three heads. 

“Uhh yeah babe, I think I remember our whole love story. I was there.” 

“Okay well yes but I’m retelling it because.. Because..” Satrou groaned, looking off to the side where two waitresses were standing, nodding at them. 

Before you could look towards the direction he was staring at, a familiar song started playing. 

Love me. 

The same one you played for him all those years ago. 

“Oh, hey-” 

“Shhh..” He brought a finger up to your lips before standing up. Satoru reached into his pocket pulling out a small black box. “Baby.. light of my life.” 

Your eyes watered, already knowing where this was going. 

He got down on one knee. 

“Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

[rawme-price]

Thinking about gaz who has a mortifyingly intense crush on the medic the 141 tend to work with.

Which usually isn't a problem, he can stumble through conversations well enough so long as he doesn't get distracted staring at your hands patching someone up. Gaz has made sure to keep his crush tightly contained, no need to humiliate himself with that.

That of course, all goes out the window when he's shot twice in the stomach. Blood loss and adrenaline have the sergeant fully convinced he will be dead before you manage to save him.

Might as well confess, right?

"Love, i– i need to tell you something–" he mumbles, trying to grab your arm but being swiftly held down so he doesn't get in the way. "I always liked you. Really liked you."

For a split second, like a fucking amateur, you freeze.

Gaz doesn't notice, already rambling further "you're perfect, yknow? Christ– nights I've spent thinnking about thos' hands of yours. Wanna feel them wi'out gloves–"

"You're losing blood, sergeant." You mumble quieter than you would, trying to rationalize his behavior as nothing more than momentary delusions.

"M no' lying—" gaz huffs, head tossed back but still lucid enough to catch your implication. Not lucid enough to stop himself when he says "can't fuckin' get off to normal shite anymore. All medical porn, innit? thinkin' about you, sometimes just imaginations enough—"

"Sergeant." You warn mildly, pressing at his wound just that bit harder. Retribution for your burning face.

"Mghh! Fuck— keep doing that, love. Need my last breath to be under your hands—" gaz groans, truly having lost it now because you can see the way his cock twitches in his trousers. "Press a little harder, please—"

Ah. The drugs worked.

Gaz goes limp under you, and quietly you thank whatever above that you were the only ones to hear that. Face burning, you finish patching him up to drag to emergency evac.

"Almost had me fooled you felt the same, sergeant." You whisper, completely unaware that kyles comms have been on the whole time.

[satorusdreamer]

Just friends that occasionally kiss

Pairing: best friend!Keigo x oblivious!reader

You and Keigo have been best friends for as long as you can remember, so why is he so upset when you say you're going on a date?

Content Warnings: fluff, suggestive, childhood best friends to lovers, college AU, miscommunication, fluff, courting, Keigo acts like a bird, idiots in love, talks of firsts (kisses & loss of virginity), talks of oral (f and m receiving) and sex in general, reader is a little slow, Keigo isn't much better, dialogue heavy, hurt/comfort(?), happy ending

Word Count: 4.2k

A/n: art by @/melwakame on x. No beta reader this time, so if it's shit... just turn a blind eye and forget I ever wrote this 🙂‍↕️

Keigo Takami has always been a man of many words, always drawing syllables between those pretty lips of his whenever he teases you—those same lips that never once stop moving whenever the two of you are alone.

It’s been like that ever since the two of you were younger. Kindergarten is a scary place for many toddlers, having to be without their parents for multiple hours on end, surrounded by other snotty gremlins for the rest of the day.

Sticky hands were pressed to every surface in the classroom, dirtying the place up. Some of the kids started playing with each other, while others were more reserved.

Keigo wasn’t one of them. No, he wanted to play with other people, finally having the time to actually walk around without being afraid of his father yelling at him. Here he could just be himself, surrounded by other kids. Or so he thought.

Some of the kids were old enough to have gotten their quirks already, showing them off whenever they could with proud smiles on their faces while other kids watched in awe.

But none of them looked at Keigo that way. The boy with the crimson wings and weird markings around his eyes that made him seem more scary to the others than he actually was.

Most of the kids would scurry away when they saw him approach with a small smile on his face, mouth open to ask them if they would want to play together, only for the other kids to tremble in fear and vehemently shake their heads.

It made him sad in all honesty. The fact that a lot of the kids would just interact with others, but not with him, did something complicated to his tiny heart.

Sure, he didn’t have to be scared of his father anymore, but now there was a different issue he didn’t account for—and who could blame him? He’s a child himself, not thinking about how complicated other kids could be—which was people being scared of him.

Neither his mother nor father had warned him about this—about the fact that heteromorphs were looked down upon in society. Why would they warn him about that anyway? His dad is an alcoholic who is on the verge of losing his job while his mother is a stay-at-home mom.

Unfortunately, he’s been thrown into the deep end without any guidance, and his wings seem to be dragging him under much quicker than anticipated.

The excitement he had started to slowly dwindle the more time went on and no one even wanted to sit next to him during class. There were whispers about him from the other kids, ones they thought he couldn’t hear, but his feathers took in every single vibration that came from kids’ throats. While he couldn’t decipher everything, he could decipher enough about the fact that they thought he was scary.

That was how he spent most of his first month in kindergarten—alone, punished to hear every cruel whisper they said about him, and not reacting to it.

But then, one day, came you. The transfer student. There was this cute smile on your face as you waved at all the new faces of your new peers before the teacher had pointed at Keigo and told you to sit next to him.

He was already bracing for impact, waiting for you to shake your head and tell her that you didn’t want to sit next to him—that he was too scary to sit next to. But none of that happened. You just pranced over to him and sat down.

His tiny brain couldn’t compute it, the fact that someone would willingly sit down next to him. As if he hasn’t spent most of his time pouting and staring at other kids’ friendships longingly—which led to dirty looks and them turning their backs toward him.

It’s only when you asked him his name that he finally could function again. His wings puffed up behind him as he looked you over, a shy look that made him take in all of you, before he finally told you his name.

You’d merely smiled at him and told him your own, saying something about becoming the bestest friends in the whole wide world, because sitting next to him meant that the two of you were going to become friends. That’s how that works!!

That was the first time since the start of kindergarten that Keigo smiled again, all of his tiny teeth on display while his eyes crinkled. Oh how lucky he was to have finally found someone who wanted to be his friend.

The smile was quickly wiped off his face when you gasped, though. Eyes widening as you planted one hand on your desk.

He’d stilled, afraid he already did something wrong. His wings trembled uncomfortably behind his back as he noticed other kids staring at the two of you, some already whispering about him—or you for that matter.

Then you leaned forward with a smile so big, it was a wonder it didn’t split your chubby cheeks. There was this certain sparkle in your eyes as you leaned in uncomfortably close, your little eyes looking at his lips.

‘You have sharp teeth!’ you had exclaimed, voice full of excitement. There was this little twitch in your fingers, like you were itching to pull up his lip to examine his teeth yourself.

And it is true that Keigo had sharp canines, something that came with his quirk. It is quite nice that he could just tear through solid foods in an instant, but it also sometimes hurt him. The canines would poke into his lip, drawing some blood out of them. Yeah, he hadn’t fully grown into them yet.

But instead of being afraid of them, you were more fascinated than anything. Fingers still twitching against the desk as you leaned in far too close, your noses almost touching.

Keigo had only blinked at you—a slow blink that you would later point out as well along with a lot of other bird traits he had—before finally nodding his head.

The rest was honestly history.

The two of you got close, much closer than anyone could’ve anticipated. Fingers were always intertwined whenever you’d dragged him somewhere with you, smile on your face as you blabbed on about the thing you just saw and needed for him to see too.

And Keigo? Keigo had just gripped onto your little hand a little tighter, his feathers puffing up behind him as he kept up with you, nodding his tiny head at whatever you were saying, his golden curls bouncing with the motion.

That’s the dynamic between the two of you—you dragging him along with you and him following you wherever you went without so much as a huff.

Soon, he’d forgotten all about other people being scared of him, discriminating against him purely because he has wings and has more bird traits than other winged heteromorphs. All he could think about was you, his best friend.

With those thoughts also came the fact that the two of you trusted each other completely, to the point of having no secrets or so you thought. It was something that was established early on, the fact that the two of you could tell each other everything.

For two children such as yourselves, that meant talking about quirks and their little side effects. This was mostly a topic surrounding Keigo himself, considering he didn’t just get wings but also got some bird traits along with it.

The first one you noticed—aside from the obvious: wings, eye markings, and his sharp canines—was the fact that he reacted strongly to shiny things. His golden eyes always zeroed in on a glint somewhere. Sometimes it was just a little tab from a soda can that lay abandoned on the street, the sun hitting it just right, while other times it was your earrings.

When you’d pointed it out, Keigo had looked away with a faint blush on his face, denying the fact that he was even looking at it. He isn’t that much of a bird! But then it kept happening, and you noticed. Of course you did, you noticed everything about the crimson-winged kid.

You never made fun of him for it; if anything, you started collecting shiny things for him. From soda tabs to shiny coins to little trinkets, all little gifts for him that you presented with a smile on your face.

Keigo just looked at you with those unblinking eyes of his—another bird trait, the fact that he blinks super slow—before he snatched the little thing out of your hand and squeezed you against his body, little arms wrapping around your frame as you just laughed against his skin.

That’s something you haven’t stopped doing—giving him shiny things. Little gifts he keeps in a box under his bed, which you’d found when you were cleaning his room one day.

When you asked him about it, he just shrugged and walked over. Crouching beside you, he wrapped his wing around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. Your head automatically rested itself on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“I’ve saved everything you’ve ever given to me, why would I stop now?” he had mumbled into your hair, giving it a faint kiss.

That had warmed your cheeks, the small smile on your face widening as you realised he was serious. Even after sixteen years of friendship, he still collected everything you gave to him, even though most of it was trash.

To this day, he has done that. Little trinkets he has gifted you and vice versa spanning your dorm room. There’s a small cup-holder full of shiny things in your little kitchen; A few red feathers laying on your bed—’So you’ll think of me when I’m gone.’—and, of course, that stupid rock you gave him back when the two of you were six years old.

You’re lying on your bed, practically surrounded by blankets and pillows. They swallow you whole as you lazily type away on your laptop, trying to get this annoying assignment done before tonight.

The door to your dorm opens with a heavy thud, rattling the walls slightly. The sound has your head snap up, just in time to see a grumpy blond walk through the door.

His wings droop behind him, primaries just shy of touching the floor, shoulders sagged as he beelines straight to the bed after kicking the door closed behind him. Shrugging off his backpack, he lets himself fall face-first into the matrass.

“Long day?” you ask, head lazily lolling to the side to watch him kick off his shoes. There’s a faint grumble in response, probably a hum in agreement while also telling you… something.

The next second, two red plumes detach themselves from his wings. They hover in the air before one closes your laptop and the other gently puts it on your desk.

Keigo rolls onto his side, giant wings hanging off the side of the bed, before he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself be dragged into whatever position is needed, ending up on your side as well, before he inches closer and puts his forehead against yours.

Right, okay, really bad day it seems.

Closing your eyes, you just let yourself get lost in the sensation for a little while. Pressing your forehead further into his—something he’s told you he liked you doing—you just let him have a little moment to himself.

While this doesn’t really do anything for you, you know Keigo likes to do this when he feels stressed, or when he needs some reassurance. It’s some kind of bird thing that releases serotonin for him, and who are you to deny him his happy hormones?

It’s something the two of you have done since you were little. The first time he did it startled you, not really knowing exactly what he was doing, and back then neither did he. It was his first time doing it, so he shocked the both of you.

There was a small pause, devoid of anything, before he finally scrambled to apologise, saying he didn’t know what he was doing.

You merely tilted your head—a small habit you picked up from him, yet another bird trait; tilting your head when something peculiar happens—and asked him if it felt right doing it. When he’d shyly nodded his head, golden curls bouncing, you’d just smiled and put your forehead against his.

At first it was stiff, the two of you looking at each other while literally having your foreheads pressed together—and if your mom were to walk in, she’d surely have some questions neither of you could answer—before he finally closed his eyes and let himself lean into you a little more.

You’d kept your eyes open, just looking at the way he relaxed into you. His wings stilled, feathers no longer stiff, shoulders sagging. There was this small exhale of relief that came from his nose, and that’s when you knew it was just a part of his brain telling him this was right, this was okay.

But Keigo isn’t all bird. He still has his human side, and his human side also craves connection. So it doesn’t surprise you when, after a few minutes of having your heads pressed together, he pulls you into his chest, arms circling your waist as he puts his chin on top of your head.

Exhaling, you let your own hands find his back—careful not to touch the base of his wings, a mistake you’ve only made once in your life.

“Feeling better?” you ask him, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. “Mhmm.”

You smile at that as your eyes start to feel a little heavy. You note the way Keigo has draped one of his wings over you, crimson feathers twitching against your skin, almost as if they’re coaxing you to sleep. And before you know it, your eyes close and sleep takes you under.

Waking up, you blink a few times. You’re still cocooned in the red feathers as Keigo is sleeping soundly beside you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. Glancing outside you note how the sky has significantly darkened, and you’re suddenly wide awake.

Shit. What time is it?

Feeling around the bed blindly, your fingers finally find the smooth screen of your phone. Grabbing it, you look at the time. 7:15 pm. With one new notification staring up at you:

We still on for tonight?

Okay. This is okay, nothing to be freaked out about. You have forty-five minutes to get ready—freshen up, do your hair, and put on a cute outfit, which you’ve thankfully laid out already. You can do this, you can so do this.

Wiggling yourself free from Keigo’s embrace, you nearly make it out of the bed when you hear a sleepy grumble come from the guy.

“Go back to sleep, Kei,” you whisper to the guy, waiting for him to fall back asleep before you finally go to make yourself ready.

You’re in the bathroom when Keigo finally wakes up, his feathers twitching against his back as he listens to you hum some sort of tune under your breath—something you’re aware he would hear if he were awake, but soft enough to not wake him up.

For a second he wonders if you’ll come back to bed, but when he feels the spot next to him is cold, he realises you might’ve been awake for longer than he thought.

Rolling over with a groan, he finally sits up. His hair sticks out in odd directions, a few feathers sleep-mussed, which he immediately straightens, and there’s a small pillow crease on his face.

Rubbing his face, he swings his feet over the edge of the bed before making his way over to you. The harsh light from the bathroom fixture makes him blink a few more times before he can finally focus on you. And when he does, all the air leaves his lungs.

Fuck, you look hot.

All dolled up, having put on a pretty black dress, done your hair and makeup, and are currently putting on a necklace.

“Let me help.” His voice sounds raspy, but you just smile at him. Walking behind you, he gently takes hold of the necklace before clipping it together, letting it rest against your collarbones. “Why are you so dolled up, hmmm?”

Because you don’t look like this that often, most of the time preferring to stay inside with him, watching some sort of movie or series. The last time you got all dressed up was for his birthday, which has been some months already.

Fuck, did he forget the two of you had plans?

“Going on a date,” you casually say as you lean forward, adjusting the necklace slightly.

That makes his mind scramble a little. A date? Did he seriously forget about a date? Fuck. Looking down, he notes how he’s still in the same clothes he went to lectures with—a white hoodie and black sweats. Not very date ready. “When are we supposed to leave?”

That makes you look at him funny through the mirror, watching him with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, with how busy I’ve been these past few days, I must’ve forgotten that we were going out. So how long do I have to get ready?”

“Keigo, you’re not coming with,” you carefully say, turning around to face him now.

Wait, what? “What do you mean? You just said you were going on a date.”

“Yeah, with this guy from my physics class.”

His brain is malfunctioning now, alongside his mouth. Opening and closing a few times, he tries to find the right words, but they just won’t come out.

“I- did I do something wrong?” he asks, stepping a bit closer to you now. His eyes frantically search your face for any signs, but all he can see is confusion. “I know I’ve been quite busy lately, and that I haven’t really spent much time with you, and we constantly keep having different schedules, but if I’ve done anything wrong, please just tell me—”

“Keigo,” you interrupt him. “You’ve done nothing wrong. We always tell each other when someone does something that they don’t like, remember?”

It was a pinky promise the two of you made when you were mere children, little fingers interlocking when the two of you promised you would tell each other when the other did something wrong or something that hurt their feelings.

“Then why are you going out on a date with a guy who isn’t your boyfriend?”

That stops you in your tracks, your fingers uselessly twitching beside your frame as you look at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re going out with a stranger when you’re dating someone already.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” you carefully say, taking a small step back from him. Because what is he talking about right now?

“You’re dating me, chickadee.” Desperation creeps into his voice as he looks you over a few times. You only shake your head, brows furrowing even further.

“Why would you even think that, Kei? We’ve never even done things people who date do.” because it’s true, you’ve never even been on a date with the guy. The only times you’ve gone out were for either of your birthdays, and even that could hardly be called a date.

“You tell me you love me almost every single day.”

“Yeah, because I do. You’re my best friend.”

“You sucked me off last month!” he throws his hands up in the air, voice nearly cracking from how loud he says it.

“That was to practice,” you grumble, looking away from his pleading eyes. Those same eyes that are always looking at you, now blinking faster than you’ve ever seen him blink.

“Practice for what?!”

“For when I get a boyfriend!”

“I am your boyfriend!” He exclaims, completely desperate now. His feathers twitch behind his back, like they want to reach out to you, press every word against your skin.

“Since when, Kei. Because last time I remember, neither of us has ever asked the other person out.” Because you surely would remember if that happened, having had a crush on him since… kindergarten.

“I- oh my god. So you’re meaning to tell me when you sat on my face, it was ‘just as friends’; when we took each other’s virginity, it was just as friends; when we were making out last week, it was just as friends?” His voice is getting steadier every time he comes up with new things, and you’re sure he could name ten more things that “just friends” wouldn’t do.

“Well…” when he puts it like that, it does sound a little silly, but it all made sense in your head when the two of you did it. Sure, you’ve thought about the fact that normal best friends wouldn’t do all of this without the ‘benefits’ label behind it, but still!! “Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Sound like what, dove? The fact that we’ve been dating for eleven years already and you’re only now finding it out?” He steps closer to you, wings spreading out a bit as he looks at you in that pretty dress, before they snap shut again, remembering the fact that it wasn’t for him.

“What in the ever-living fuck are you talking about, Keigo?” Seriously, did he hit his head or something?

Thinking back on it, he has flown into a building before, showing off to you and not looking where he was flying. He smacked the window so hard, he chipped his tooth—which he had to get fixed later that same day.

“The gifts, the nesting, the forehead thing, the preening, me showing off my wings to you—you even let me do a free-fall with you in my arms!”

“What about those things?”

“Oh for fucks sake, chickadee,” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. Exhaling, you can hear him count to five under his breath before he finally looks at you again. Those pretty amber eyes looking you dead in the eye as he says: “I was courting you.”

“I- you- what?” Your brain is malfunctioning, because surely you heard that wrong.

Courting, something birds did to attract their mates. You know that some species showed off their dancing skills while others sung their little lungs out. And then there was the fact that some species gathered things for their mates, and— oh.

You think back on all of the times where Keigo would gift you things. Some of them were shiny things his little magpie brain liked, while others were just normal gifts—plushies, earrings, bracelets.

Then your eyes drift past Keigo, toward the bed, where all those pillows and blankets lay in a comfortable little square. There are a lot of pillows and blankets now that you think about it.

A nest.

Keigo had been nesting and you hadn’t even once realised it. Despite being always there with him.

“You seriously didn’t know? Didn’t even for a second think to look up the meaning behind all of those things” the sound of his voice makes your eyes snap back to his.

“Why would I? You’re you, and you’ve always told me everything about your quirk anyway. And yeah, sure, you’ve told me how close you’d have to be to someone to do the whole forehead press thingy and preening, but you never said anything about courting!”

“That’s because I thought you knew—that you were reciprocating those feelings,” he whispers. One of his hands comes down to your arm, fingers hovering uselessly above your skin before he finally slides it down to where your hand is resting beside your body. Taking it, he starts playing with your fingers—a small habit he’s had since the two of you were kids. “and you’re meaning to tell me you just… did all of those things, without knowing what they meant?”

“Well, duh. They were important to you, so why wouldn’t I let you do them?” Because that’s the thing about Keigo. He has some traits that don’t fully align with yours, but even if you don’t inherently understand them, you always just let him do whatever felt right for him. Whether that be gifting you random objects, or letting him press his forehead against yours because it released happy hormones in his brain, you’d just let him do whatever he felt like.

“I can’t believe I’m in love with a dumbass,” he mumbles, too low for you to catch.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, dove, absolutely nothing,” his fingers finally still as he looks you in the eye. “Now tell me. Do I have to watch my girlfriend of eleven years walk through the door to go out on a date with another man, or can I bring her back to bed and fuck her brains out for even thinking that we were doing all of those things as just friends?”

“Come here, you stupid birdbrain.” You tug on his hands before crashing your lips on his.

You might not have gone on that date you weren’t looking forward to, but you did get dicked down by the most important person in your life. And you’ve gained a boyfriend! (Which you apparently already had for eleven years.)

That’s a win in your books.

A/n: I think this is the most dialogue-heavy fic I've ever written and idk how to feel about it.

tags: @yoonsucks @etheralpanic @lilithkleia @dollieadored @starsforvia @iinvivible @saniiaa @marisacosm @tojiphoria @yorikae @yoniknows @coveexxx @mousedit @lilslovesaizawa @june-buggiewug @sunnyfieldsz @dragemballz

Liked this? consider joining my taglist!

[tays-writing]

!nerdjo x reader | part 1

Exam stress leads to a late night horny decision. Everything is going great, until the guy in the video starts sounding a little too familiar

part 2 here!

CW: NSFW. Masturbation. Watching porn.

cr: 3vangel1ne_ on X

You were sprawled on your bed, laptop glowing in the dark dorm room, fingers lazily scrolling through video after video.

It was one of those nights—stress from exams, and a long day of pretending not to stare at that tall, white-haired nerd from your chemistry class who always claimed the front row. The one with the quiet voice who answered questions with effortless precision while wearing the same white oversized hoodie every class. 

The hoodie that somehow made his broad shoulders look even wider, the fabric hanging loose on his lean frame. You had spent far too many lectures tracing the strange structural formula printed across its back with your eyes, wondering what molecule it represented and why it suited him so perfectly.

The memory of him leaning over to borrow your notes earlier that day, offering that soft, shy smile, had lingered. Combined with the crushing stress of exams, it naturally led you to a late-night horniness that had you deep in the tags until one thumbnail catched your eye. A lean, pale torso filled the frame, a large hand wrapped around an absolutely obscene cock. The title was simple: “Needy boy whimpering.”

Below it, the description read: If you want more content, please consider subscribing. I’m a broke uni student 🙏🏻 Thank you!

You smiled faintly. It sounded so polite, almost shy, despite the filthy image attached to it. Without thinking twice, you clicked.

The video opened in a dimly lit room. The guy was already flushed, sitting on the edge of a messy bed with his long legs spread wide. His face remained carefully out of frame, but the camera angle gave a perfect, shameless view of his toned body. His abs were faintly defined, his skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. One large hand was slowly stroking his thick, veiny length, the head flushed dark and already leaking precum that caught the low light with every lazy pass of his fingers.

A soft, breathy whimper floated through your headphones as his thumb circled the tip.

“F-fuck… ahh—”

Your breath hitched. That voice. Sweet, boyish, and trembling with need. It sounded painfully familiar, the same voice you had heard muttering answers under his breath during lectures.

No. You were imagining it. You had to be. You were just that desperately horny.

Pushing the thought aside, your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers gliding over your already soaked folds. On screen, his long fingers tightened around his cock, stroking a little faster. Another broken whimper escaped him, higher this time, sending a sharp throb straight to your clit. You circled the sensitive bud in time with his rhythm, thighs trembling as heat pooled low in your belly.

You pushed two fingers inside yourself, curling them just right, eyes never leaving the screen. His breathing grew ragged. The wet, obscene sounds of his hand moving along his slick cock filled your ears, filthy and addictive.

The camera shifted slightly as he adjusted his position. Your gaze drifted for a moment over the background, taking in the cluttered desk, the scattered notebooks. And then—

Your fingers stilled.

Draped casually over the back of his chair, right in the corner of the frame, was a white oversized hoodie. And there, clearly visible even in the low lighting, was the distinctive structural formula printed across the back — the strange, intricate molecule you had stared at countless times during morning lectures.

It was him.

Satoru Gojo. 

The quiet, annoyingly hot chemistry nerd who always borrowed your notes with that shy boyish smile, and thanked you in that soft voice that now whimpered so prettily for the camera.

The realization crashed over you like lightning. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as your fingers resumed their frantic pace, pumping harder, your thumb pressing desperately against your swollen clit. On screen, a high-pitched, needy whimper spilled from his lips as his hips bucked into his fist.

“Mmnh—gonna cum… fuck, I’m so close—”

His voice cracked on the last word, just like it always did when he laughed nervously in class. You imagined him sitting there, stroking himself stupid, his pretty glasses perhaps fogged up from the heat of his own pleasure. The thought made your head spin.

Your thumb pressed hard on your clit, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably.

On screen, Satoru’s abs flexed, his thighs shaking. Thick ropes of cum shoot across his stomach and chest as he kept pumping through his orgasm, whimpering softly with each spurt.

You came hard at the same time, back arching off the bed, a broken cry leaving your lips as your pussy clenched around your fingers. The orgasm dragged on, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing over you while you watched him pant, breathless and flushed, lazily smearing the mess over his skin.

When the video finally ended, you lay there in the dark, chest heaving, heart hammering against your ribs. The image of that white, oversized hoodie with the weird structural formula lingered behind your closed eyelids.

Tomorrow in class, when Satoru slid into his usual seat you weren’t sure you’d be able to look at him without getting wet all over again.

Or without wondering how much prettier those whimpers would sound in real life.

Reblogs are sooo appreciated ✨

part 2 here! masterlist

[just4wful]

socially awkward!reader visits neighbor!gojo while he's sick

tags: high school au, childhood 'friends' (acquaintances), gojo is lonely, reader is lowkey a tsundere, flufff...

wc: 1,4k

-

you're not particularly close with satoru gojo, you're more acquaintances than anything. even though you attend the same school and the same classes, befriending someone as loud and confident as him seemed beyond the realm of possibility.

since you literally lived next to him, of course your teacher would ask you to deliver the homework assignments to satoru while he's stricken by a fever.

you ring the doorbell when you get to his place, holding the sheets of paper in your hand. the porch faintly smelled of wood and cut grass. you stare at the peeled paint on the doorframe, briefly considering to just drop the homework on the doormat before he finally opened the door.

yikes. his face was flushed, his eyes glassy, and some sweaty strands of hair stuck to his forehead. his disheveled appearance made him look more like a victorian child with scarlet fever rather than the popular jock you saw at school.

"oh, it's you... what's up?" he spoke in a tired, nasal voice. he looked at you through half-lidded eyes.

"uh, i came to bring the homework. the homeroom teacher told me to bring it to you," you respond plainly, and you hold the homework towards him. he takes the papers with a frown.

"wow... seriously? i'm literally dying and now i have to do homework?" he sniffs dramatically and presses the back of his hand against his forehead like a damsel in distress, eyes squeezed shut in exaggerated misery. "i can feel it, y/n. the cruelness of the homework, the drudgery, seeping into my veins-"

"you can just do it after you're better?" you awkwardly interrupt him, not exactly sure if you should keep watching his theatrical performance. "uhm, i'll go now. get well soon," you say with one last glance, and for a split second, satoru looks disappointed.

"right... thanks!" he weakly called out, closing the door.

you get home with a sigh, taking your shoes off at the door. your mom stood in the kitchen, making food.

"welcome back, sweetie. how was your day?" she asked warmly, stirring the pot.

"good, i guess," you respond simply, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"you paid a visit to the gojo's? saw you through the window."

"creepy? but yeah... uhm, satoru is sick so i had to deliver the homework to him."

"he's sick? the poor boy. his parents are barely around to take care of him."

"...should you be saying that? and it's fine, he's old enough to take care of himself," you say while absently playing with the sleeve of your shirt. your mom gives you a look behind her shoulder.

"oh, don't be so heartless to your classmate, sweetheart. good thing i'm making soup, i'll put some in a container so you can bring it to him!"

"wh- no, wait, why me?? just bring it yourself!" you sputter, like socializing against your will was a crime.

"because it's good for you to talk with a classmate every now and then!"

and that's how you end up on satoru's front porch once again, thermal container in hand. you hope to just drop it off and get back home immediately. he opens the door, and his face lights up when he sees you holding the container.

"is that for me? you made me food? i knew you'd come back for me! i was so hopeless-" he immediately starts with the theatrics, and you have to awkwardly interrupt him yet again.

"uh, well, my mom made soup and she wanted to give you some. since you're sick..." you notice his expression softening at that. you hand him the container and you're about to turn away.

"wait! wanna come in? i just... don't like eating alone. cause y'know. i get lonely and stuff," he says with a playful smile, though there was a hint of seriousness beneath it. for some reason, maybe because your mom was scolding you about it earlier, or because of that weird pleading look in his eyes, you agree.

the place was tidy, but almost empty aside from the furniture. there wasn't a single decoration up, not even a family photo or something.

you take a seat at the kitchen table. after grabbing a spoon, satoru sits down across from you and opens the container.

"careful, it's still hot," you warn, and he just grins at you.

"aw, so you care about me? i knew you had a heart beneath that icy exterior," he teases, and proceeds to burn his tongue on the soup anyway. "oww! why didn't you tell me it was hot?!" he shrieks. all you can do in response is just stare blankly at him. you start to wonder if a fever can eat away at someone's braincells.

once the pain of burning his tongue subsides, he speaks again. "anyway, thanks for being so gracious to stop by. i've honestly been so bored these past few days..."

"really? well, it's no big deal. and besides, my mom made me do it." you sigh, and he just shakes his head.

"still, you decided to come in anyway. i know i'm irresistible, but get in line, sweetheart," he teases, running a hand through his hair. you're starting to think he's delusional.

"that's not even- never mind. just eat your soup, please." he complies, and silence takes over the room. for a moment you just observe him. it's stupid, but you can't help but think how ordinary he looks while eating soup.

"uh, so no one's taking care of you?" you ask offhandedly, just to fill the silence. you're caught between glancing at his face and staring at the way the soup moves with every scoop. he pauses, the spoon halfway to his mouth.

"...nah. why, are you worried?" now you regret asking. you sound way too concerned about someone you barely know.

"i guess? wouldn't it be nice to have company or whatever?" satoru raises an eyebrow at that. he leans back in his chair to take a proper look at your face, soup momentarily forgotten.

"that's what i have you for right now, no?" he tilts his head like a confused puppy.

"yeah but, not just right now. i was thinking that maybe you'd also like company... when you're not sick? you know..." you trail off, not wanting to say it outright. a faint smirk forms on his face.

"nope, i actually don't know. enlighten me."

you click your tongue. "i mean... for example, when you'd come over for dinner when we were little. you could still do that... now?" you cringe at the way you just said that without thinking, but satoru's eyes widen just slightly. "never mind, that's so stupid..."

"wait, you can't just take that back now! in fact, i'd love to grace you with my presence more often!"

"grace me with- what? don't say it like that, it's the opposite way."

"okay, but really? you'd really do that for me?" he's looking at you with these wide eyes, like you just offered to give him the world. your chest tightens.

"yeah... it's fine. since we're neighbors and all." you say it like it's no big deal, like being this kind to someone was normal for you.

"...just neighbors?"

"huh?"

"anyway! i really appreciate the offer." his tone brightens, like he just realized how serious the conversation got. "and i will make good use of it. a lot. every day?"

"i-"

"and i could come for breakfast and lunch on weekends too. y'know, just so you and your mom don't get lonely." he says it like you're the lonely one here.

"yeah... sure, you're free to do that..." you utter in absolute resignation and disbelief.

-

later that night, you're in your bed, staring at the ceiling. it's quiet now, the gentle hum of the fan enveloping your ears. you recall your visit to satoru earlier that day.

the way his face lit up when you showed up at his door. the way his eyes widened when you offered to let him come over for dinner.

apparently, making friends with someone like him wasn't impossible. in fact, you're stuck with him now, aren't you?