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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago

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IF YOU ASK ME TO LEAVE, I’LL STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists there’s no need to take care of him. thankfully, you’re equally as stubborn.

word count; 10.8k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, implied non-sorcerer!reader, sickfic, reverse comfort, sickening amounts of fluff, lots of petnames, satoru gojo vs the mortifying ordeal of being loved, just a tinyyyy bit of angst if u rlly squint, literally just satoru being pampered for like 10k words straight, he’s cute when he’s sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, he’s also a huge sap you have been warned!!

a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the ”satoru gojo needs to be babied relentlessly” club <33 he’s just a little guy!! tagging @catchuuu my beloved for being the sweetest enjoy a healthy dose of sick sleepy satoru <33 i am tagging all toru enjoyers in spirit btw i love u all

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead — skin sweaty, hot to the touch, with a flushed face to match. heavy breaths fall from his parted lips, blinking in and out of consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut.

it’s nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru you’re so used to. he’s weak. he’s fatigued.

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

”really, baby,” he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. ”there’s no need f’ —”

unceremoniously, his limbs give out beneath him, and he tumbles right back down; a meek little wince escaping his throat as his face falls back into the mattress. the sound makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.

”ah. that’s…” he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. ”… annoying.”

satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell he’s resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. he’s still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up — you can practically feel it, from where you’re standing, crouched down by his bed.

you’ve never, ever seen satoru like this. you’ve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. you’ve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters.

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

”satoru, please just —” you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. ”don’t overdo it. please?”

you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you can’t do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoru’s lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind.

he looks so small.

this wasn’t what you were expecting to see, today. you were expecting to meet up with satoru, and see his happy little grin, those tiny dimples and freckles that only show themselves in the light of the sun. you were expecting to feel the weight of his hand in yours, as you strolled down to the new crêpe stand he’s been wanting to check out since he first found their instagram account.

you were expecting to see him happy. healthy. a little obnoxious, a little annoying — but hopelessly sweet. all the love you could ever need, molded into a human shape. your little angel.

a sigh slips from your lips. you can’t help it; because satoru is just so stubborn, so closed off, and he can be such an idiot sometimes. you knew something was off the moment he sent you that text, asking you oh so charmingly, apologetically, if you could postpone your date for just an hour or so. you knew something was wrong, but he still wouldn’t let up until you brought out the 🥺 emojis.

and then he told you he was fine. it’s all he ever is, apparently.

my throat’s just a little scratchy, is all. wouldn’t want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. <3

moron.

he’s curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you can’t make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this — like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

moron. moron. he should’ve called you the moment he realized he was sick. instead, you had to coax him into letting you come over, with a flurry of sad and cute emojis you know make him go weak at the knees when they’re coming from you.

and here you are. in satoru’s house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick.

but he just won’t listen.

”just — gimme a couple minutes, honey?” your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. ”i just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i —”

”satoru.”

there’s a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality.

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

as gently as you can, you settle down on the bed, eyes painfully softened. overflowing with care. towering over him, leaning close — to press your lips against his scorching forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs with a palpable tenderness. your voice soothing, coming out almost as a low coo. you’re frustrated, and exasperated.

but most of all, you’re worried.

”go back to sleep,” you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. ”i’ll take care of you.”

”there’s no need,” he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness.

but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like you’re much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. it’s only a matter of time.

so you keep your lips against his forehead, cradling his slender fingers in yours, murmuring little whispered reassurances. and before you know it, his lashes have fluttered shut, like a white dove landing on the ground. he still looks so troubled, so meek. you can’t resist the urge to soothe him, hand cupping his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. you watch him lean into it, eyes dripping with care. your poor baby.

for a couple precious moments, you allow yourself to indulge in the sight. even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him.

so you’re delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him — leaving him in only an oversized tee and a pair of briefs. satoru can only whine, softly, so quiet you barely even hear him. so disoriented, on the brink of falling into a deep slumber. some part of him is trying to resist, you’re sure, still agonizing over the date he’s missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.

but it doesn’t work. he can only let out a tiny groan, hopelessly pliant as you tuck him in, pulling a big blanket over his shoulders. you card through his hair, another soft kiss planted on his sweaty forehead — and your hand stays between his locks until you’re sure he’s asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.

you’d crawl under the blankets with him, but you have work to do.

stealing one final glance at your fever-ridden lover, your heartbeat ricochets. he still looks so meek, all warm and sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin. a frown tugs at your bottom lip.

satoru is always so stubborn, refusing to lean on others for support. you wish he had called you immediately, nagged at you to come baby him. sure, you might’ve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still would’ve made you feel happy. useful. and you would’ve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, he’ll do it next time.

so you stand up, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead one last time, and make your way towards the kitchen.

satoru’s house is spacious. a little too spacious, enough for at least three people to live in comfortably; nice furniture, an expensive sofa in the living room, a large tv you’re almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesn’t invite you over very often, so you’ve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. it’s always the other way around — him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing don’t even worry about it, baby! when you ask how he got in without a key. or him, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, filling the sleepy silence with jokes to distract you from the bags under his eyes.

(he likes it when you cling to him in your sleep — he sleeps a lot better that way. that’s what he told you, at least, when you brought him coffee in bed that one time. a little glimmer of honesty.)

he stays over so often he might as well just move in, but you aren’t really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears it’d be too much, too intimate, that he’d pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter you’ve grown so fond of. so you figure it’s better to let him make a home out of yours, let him curl up on your couch and snack on the candy you hid in your kitchen cabinets. that’s safe for him.

and now that you’ve seen his home up close — if you can even call it that — you think you’re starting to understand his preference. because it’s spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isn’t anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasn’t even bothered to make it his. like it’s about to be sold, and you’re just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all.

his own bedroom was another story, a much more pleasant one. a lot more satoru. filled with little trinkets, key charms and souvenirs and silly figurines. a framed photo of three students by the windowsill, an old uniform hanging by his closet, socks strewn about here and there. a dying houseplant. comic books and movie posters and a ps5 you don’t think he’s touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when he’s lying in it, next to a cat plushie you won for him at a fair. knowing he actually sleeps with it kind of makes you want to cry.

there’s this particular scent, too, lingering in the air. mellow, nostalgic, the kind that soothes you with just a whiff; a blend between sunlight, expensive cologne, and something sweet. it clings to all his favorite clothes, to his skin. you’d live in it if you could.

something constricts, inside your chest — like thorny vines strangling your beating heart, pressing down ever so slightly. just thinking about it, about him, about his distressed expression as his head hit the pillow. making your way over to his kitchen, getting yourself affiliated with the space, preparing to make a good soup for his fever. the fridge is almost empty, save for sweets and that one drink you like. the takeout boxes on his kitchen table tells you all you need to know.

it only makes you worry more.

luckily, you were clever enough to buy your own ingredients on the way here. chop, chop, into tiny little pieces. chicken soup should help, shouldn’t it? it’s all you can focus on, all you can hope for. anything is fine; you just want to help him, be of use somehow. he does so much for you.

you just want to give some of it back.

satoru’s loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face.

that’s when you see him. that lonely, lonely guy. resigned to his self-imposed isolation, paradoxically yearning for something more. watching as the cherry trees bloom, like they’ll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.

but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you won’t push it — that you’ll let him take his time. that you’ll let him flee, just a little.

still, you can’t help but wish he’d lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but it’s a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it.

all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until he’s had his fill.

(you’re not sure he ever will. it’s a good thing, a very good thing, because you’re almost certain you’ll never run out.)

and that’s why you’re here. in his ghost of a home, his kitchen, pouring water into a large pot. tender, sprinkling love over every single action, every slice and dice, every piece of chicken and veggies thrown into the boiling water. you try and you try, hoping it’ll reach him.

but before you can make another attempt, something reaches you, instead.

two long arms curl around your waist, suddenly, something warm and soft pressing itself against your back. and you almost flinch, completely caught up in the stirring of the soup, unsure of how much time has passed since you began. it jolts you out of your thoughts.

you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that he’s the only other person in the apartment; you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

it’s awfully sweet, the way he clings to you, the soft little blissful sigh that slips from his lips. but before you can feel moved at the domesticity of the gesture, worry clouds your senses. he doesn’t even get the chance to speak.

”satoru —” you place a palm on his forearm, craning your head to look back at him. his forehead rests against your shoulder, and his eyes are closed. he’s still so warm, too warm. ”what are you doing here? you should be resting.”

your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears can’t quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act — to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what he’d say if he wasn’t in such a feverish state; he’d hug you from behind, a low purr of what’cha up to? whispered right into your ear. then you’d jolt, and he’d giggle sheepishly, satisfied with the reaction.

but now, all he can do is cough. still leaning against you, gripping onto your midriff a little more desperately than usual. you step away from the stove, turning around, making sure your hands never leave his. looking up at him with concern in your eyes, noticing his little frown.

”c’mon, you need to lie down.” you reach for his cheek, cupping it in your palm, and he practically melts into it. enjoying the chilly sensation to his fever-ridden skin. “the soup’ll be finished soon, okay?”

”… you made,” he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. ”soup —” a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens.

“don’t push yourself, okay? you’re really sick, dummy.” satoru pouts, but doesn’t say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. “let’s go back to your room, alright?”

but he won’t budge. he’s so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.

”honey,” you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. ”work with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed —”

”’s…” he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if he’s too sick not to be. ”… too lonely without you.”

a moment passes. your breath hitches pitifully, at the base of your throat.

satoru is hugging you so tightly, as if you could disappear at any moment, slip away if he doesn’t keep you close. he’s holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadn’t already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly would’ve done the job.

taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, face surely aflame. satoru just nuzzles into your shoulder, too tired to say anything else, wanting to be close to you. it’s a wonder your knees don’t buckle.

gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like he’s a clingy, overgrown cat. ”sorry,” you start, just a little breathless. ”i’ll be with you, okay? won’t leave you alone. i promise.”

there’s an earnesty in your words that you doubt you could ever fake. satoru must hear it too, you think, because he finally begins to work with you. allowing you to stumble towards his bedroom, supporting his weight.

but once you make it to his bed, he still refuses to let go of you.

”toru, gotta go finish that soup. ’n make you some tea.” you rub his back, soothingly, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. shaking his head and emitting a throaty groan, only squeezing you tighter when you try to guide him under the covers. how cruel of him, to act so cute when said soup is most likely boiling over by the stove. ”please, sweetie? it won’t take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.”

another groggy huff. you’re both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still won’t let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck.

he squirms, ever so slightly, and you get an idea.

so you keep pressing little kisses against his skin, knowing just how to make him melt. feeling him relax in your embrace, snuggle into your chest, so pliant that he lets you tuck him in — as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize what’s happening, you grab hold of the blanket, draping it over him; his half-lidded eyes blinking up at you. you press a final kiss against his forehead, grabbing the cat plushie from the edge of the bed and placing it close enough for satoru to reach if need be.

”i’ll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?”

a teasing lilt sneaks into your voice, coaxed out by how adorable your boyfriend looks like this; baby blue eyes all droopy, snowy hair messy as it falls across the cushion he’s resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response.

when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. he’s still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. ”i’ll be back soon, baby,” you try to soothe him. “try to sleep.”

this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like he’s arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, you’re walking back, carrying a tray with both your hands. steam wafts up from the hot soup and the warm cup of tea, shaking a little as you walk, a pair of painkillers in your pocket. just in case he needs more. an eager, pulsating joy rushes through your veins — now you can be with him, tend to him, not leave him alone in a room so like him you wish you could stay there forever.

your footsteps are light, almost careful as they cross the threshold. satoru stirs, waiting for you to come to his side, looking like a kicked puppy in his giant bed. he tries to lift himself up, but it looks like it requires an intense amount of focus, like his elbows could buckle any second.

”careful,” you croon, hurrying over, placing the tray on the nightstand. gently pushing him back down on the mattress. he complies almost instantly, too out of it to put up a real fight. staring at you, as if in awe.

to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead.

his fever still hasn’t gone down. you try and muster a smile, but you’re sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. you’re at eye level with him, now.

”hey,” you start, low and comforting. you don’t want to be too loud. ”sorry it took so long.”

using what little energy he has left, satoru crosses the distance between you, inching closer and closer. noticing it, you reach a hand out to cup his cheek — lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.

”d’you think you can eat?” you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you can’t help it when he’s like this. quiet as a mouse. ”i made soup and tea… sound okay?”

he tries to make a noise. it comes out sounding like a strange blend between a dissatisfied groan and an affirming hum, but he still ends up nodding slightly. you wonder if indulging you is ingrained into his bone structure.

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

once again, your boyfriend only hums — but he does begin to move, trying to hoist himself up, wobbling pitifully. you help, keeping him steady until his spine meets the headboard. slumped against it, he blinks slowly, feverishly.

”thank you.” you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before reaching for the cup of tea, the scent of chamomile and lavender filling your senses. you blow on it softly. ”here. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? s’ got honey in it.”

silently, he accepts the cup, bringing it to his lips. when he takes a sip, you catch the slightest hint of a grimace on his lips; even with your warning of careful, it’s hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue.

satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he can’t say bringing himself to drink it is an easy endeavor, with how sweaty it makes him feel, how it forces him to acknowledge how painfully dry his throat is. how he can’t even taste the herbs.

he wants to be good for you, though.

so he gulps it down, slowly, managing to sip almost all of it until you decide to give him a break. compared to this morning, he already feels just a little better, a little less like he’s in a fever dream. you’re sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he can’t take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. ”thanks.”

the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadn’t realized you’d begun to miss his voice so much.

”no problem,” you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “think you can eat something? or is that too much?”

”’course,” he croaks. there’s a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but before he can continue, he’s caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry.

”no need to force yourself,” you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea might’ve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still don’t want him to overdo it. “just relax, satoru.”

he hums, weakly, and you reward him with a light ruffle of his hair. then you direct your attention to the soup on the nightstand, still hot, smelling of vegetable broth and fresh chicken and coriander. you bring the bowl down to your lap, and take a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it like you did with the tea. bringing it towards his lips.

”i dunno if it’ll taste very good,” you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. ”but it should help with the fever, at least. i’d be happy if you could eat a bit.”

as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru can’t help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend what’s happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesn’t keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment he’s receiving, not putting up a fight or making a fuss. not meeting your expectant eyes.

(he feels a little shy, being spoonfed by you. how very unlike him.)

the soup does feel soothing. he thinks he can even get a sense of the taste, how hard you must’ve worked on it. but more than anything, the way you’re acting is like balm to his soul — looking at him so kindly, treating him so tenderly. offering him spoon after spoon with gentle words of encouragement. being babied in such a way makes him feel so oddly content that he’s almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around.

yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because he’s sick, even though he hates to admit it, and you care about him. he allows the information to linger in the back of his head, for a while, wallowing in the comfort it brings him. fully comprehending it would take too much of a toll on him, in this state.

satoru basks in the intimacy of the situation, and so do you. brushing strands of hair away when they stick to his skin, pressing your lips against his forehead to check his temperature. you keep doing it until satoru’s appetite dwindles.

”alright, that should be fine —” you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. ”uhh… how do you feel?”

”… better,” satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. ”thank you.”

for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. there’s something in satoru’s expression that catches you off guard, something that’s a little hard to identify. is it the way the light reflects off his skin, his pupils? the red, feverish flush of his skin? that flimsy little smile? or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words?

as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you can’t help but feel like he just carved open his chest — let you peek inside his ribcage. it’s hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.

and he’s thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something you’d demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that it’s the bare minimum, the very least of what he deserves. the very least of what you could, should do for him.

you want to tell him that he’s safe, here. that there’s no need to be the strongest, whatever the hell that means, that he can let go of the burdens you know he hides from you. that he can just be your sick, terribly stubborn boyfriend.

”… okay,” is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. ”that’s good.”

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters.

”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face, and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.

”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting. ”… satoru.”

he smiles against your skin. he always does, at the sound of those words. you make him feel so terribly, terribly weak, all the time, everyday. you make him feel so human, and he can’t bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore.

he’s still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. ”thanks for coming,” he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. “you didn’t have to.”

they’re a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but they’re honest. he is thankful — the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesn’t mind nearly as much if it’s you. he’d never tell you, but he did feel just a little lonely, when he woke up this morning. disoriented, enveloped by hot flashes of pain, in a way he’s not used to in the slightest. missing out on your date, too, that he had been looking forward to ever since you decided on a time.

but, as if sensing it, you came to his rescue. the feeling of your lips on his skin was the first sensation he felt, when he woke up for the second time — with you by his side, this time. his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. the memory of a certain boy, of better times.

(satoru thinks you’re nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows it’s not true. there’s no way he wouldn’t remember you.)

you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. ”i wanted to,” you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. ”… i care about you. of course i’d come.”

a light, raspy chuckle; that’s all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and there’s an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. it’s been there for a while now. but somehow, some way, you manage to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly — with every sound you make, every slight movement, every flicker of an expression on your face. everything seems so effortlessly perfect, in his eyes.

the words leave his lips before his mind can think the thought to reel them back in.

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. he’s looking at you, eyes soft in a similar sense, layered over with adoration. you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

a chuckle of your own drips into the air, quivering slightly. terribly fond. this time, you’re the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.

”i’m the one who should be saying that to you,” you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you don’t think you’ve ever meant anything more.

it’s so honest that it strikes a cord right down his heart, more heat than the fever can account for rushing to his cheeks. satoru hopes you don’t notice it. all he can do is squeeze your fingers, lightly, not trusting his voice not to break. silence lingers, and you only gaze at him softly.

”… do you want anything else?” you finally ask, with a tilt of your head. still so eager to assist, racking your brain to come up with anything else to do for him. ”i’ll get it for you, no matter what it is.”

and, truthfully, satoru thinks you’ve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but he’s always been greedy, and there’s one thing, only one thing, one thing he can’t help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he can’t help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his.

so he stretches his arms out, and looks at you with a distinctly needy glint in his eyes. his fingers move in a grabby motion, almost unconsciously, and he might’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t still so feverish. all he wants is to keep you close, to make the hollowness inside his chest dissipate. you always make that lonely feeling go away.

needless to say, you heed his request. almost instantly, your heart pumping in a steady rhythm, with this visceral desire to keep him close, to protect him. and who are you to resist, when he’s asking for it himself?

you waste no time crawling beneath the covers, situating yourself right next to your lover. only then do you finally, finally, reach your arms out to pull him close; so close you feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. his cheek meets the softness of your chest, snuggling closer, and you card a hand through his soft locks. his arms reach around your midriff, a perfect puzzle piece, and he releases an audible sigh — deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further.

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

finally, satoru can fall asleep. with the fever still clouding his senses, and your nimble fingers smoothing along his scalp, the occasional kiss to his head as he listens to your soft heartbeat, he’s drifted off before either of you know it. melting into you, into your warm embrace, cheek squished against your chest. tiny little breaths fall from his lips, and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms.

you’re relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping he’ll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesn’t get nearly as much rest as he should, most days.

before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.

stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.

when you wake up, you’re acutely aware of something poking your cheek.

it’s a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams — satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.

still, you can’t be too mad. not when the real deal is right in front of you, eyes crinkled and full of warmth, a teasing smile on his lips. he’s still snuggled into your chest, all cozy and cute, as you lay on your back, propped up by a myriad of fluffy pillows. he looks up at you adoringly.

”well hello there,” he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. ”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

a series of blinks. you stir a little further, the sleepy haze of your brain beginning to slip off, slowly but surely. it takes a couple of seconds for you to remember why you’re here, what happened before you fell asleep.

”… hey,” you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. ”how do you feel…?”

”i’m perfect. better than perfect, actually,” satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that he’s hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. ”you’re a good nurse, y’know?”

you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words — you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. “alright, that’s good,” you hum, exhaling softly. ”how long was i asleep? what time is it?”

”i woke up just now, too,” satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks must’ve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldn’t take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. it’s a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.

”it’s pretty late,” he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. ”way too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?”

another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then you’re reaching for your phone on the nightstand, and checking the time. a smile is quick to bloom on your lips, teasing and bubbly, as you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

”it’s only four, satoru.”

”way, way too late,” he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. ”god knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour — much too unsafe. i’m just looking out for you, baby.”

”of course,” you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. ”you know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?”

”well, of course! i wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite nurse.”

his eyes betray his words, gleaming with a sudden colour of excitement, all glitter and relief. a joy that clogs up his throat like seafoam, and spills out from his lips. you look down at him, for a second, unable to resist the temptation — reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand.

it’s significantly less scalding, now.

you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didn’t know you’d been holding in. ”it really has gone down,” you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. “that’s good.”

satoru huffs. ”i said i was perfect, right? don’t you trust me, my sweet lover?”

”i never know with you,” you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. “you said you were just fine this morning, too.”

”i was!” he whines. piling up lie after lie. “i totally could’ve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.”

”right. of course.” you shoot him a lopsided grin. ”you just don’t wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?”

”see? no faith.” a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. ”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

”oh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?”

”well, that too! but it was mostly me.”

a sigh. “whatever you say.” then you’re smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. ”i’m just glad you’re better. i was worried.”

satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it — your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.

”you really thought a lil’ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?” he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. “c’mon, now, baby.”

another lighthearted roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.”

”don’t you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?”

”don’t think i didn’t notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.”

”hehe.”

a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

”alright, my honeybee,” he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. ”time to go. we can still get those crêpes if we hurry.”

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought you’d be alright with letting him leave. ”you’re… not going out today,” you deadpan. “you know that, right?”

this time, he’s the one who blinks. once, then twice.

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

”what?” satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he can’t believe you’d even suggest something so outrageous. ”i’m all better, though!”

you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? ”your fever isn’t gone, satoru. it’s just not horrible anymore. you’ll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.”

”i won’t! seriously!” he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. ”i feel good enough to run a marathon!”

”you’re not doing that either,” you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you can’t let this charade go on for too long. ”come on, satoru — don’t be so stubborn. we can go there another time.”

”but —”

”besides, didn’t you say i have to spend the night because it’s too late to go outside? remember the creeps?” there’s amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. ”what if they get us?”

”well, they obviously won’t get you while i’m there,” he huffs. ”what, you don’t think i can protect you properly? you’re hurting me, angel.”

you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, he’s stubborn. you’re so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

”sa-to-ru,” you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. ”we’re not going outside. end of discussion.”

”why not, though?” he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. ”don’t you wanna go on a date with me? you don’t want to see me happy, is that it?”

you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. ”you’re such a baby.”

”your baby.”

another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.

“can’t we just have our date here?” you suggest, after some contemplation. ”i bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isn’t that enough?”

satoru’s eyes bore into yours. contemplative, as he lets the silence linger, gears turning inside his mind. he wants to go outside with you, wants to hold your hand and hear you hum happily as you bite into your crêpe; wants to steal a bite when you’re not looking.

but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.

(he’s maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)

so, finally, he sighs — softly. in resignation.

”… well, i guess that’s fine,” he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. ”i wanted crêpes, though…”

”i’ll get you your crepes,” you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. ”i can go buy ’em myself and come back. then we —”

”no, no, no!” satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. ”you’re not going anywhere. not without me!”

a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. ”then i’ll… order crêpes, or something. or we’ll eat ice cream today and then crêpes when you’re better. does that sound okay?”

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!”

you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. ”instead of the crêpes, i want a kiss.”

you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. ”so convoluted. you can just ask, you know?” you don’t give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. ”whatever.”

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, he’s still pouting when you pull away. ”i meant on the lips,” he explains, as if it was obvious.

a tilt of your head.

”… but you’re sick.”

”so?” satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. ”you won’t kiss me anymore? just cause i’ve got a tiny, miniscule fever?” he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. ”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

another sigh leaves your lips. he’s so ridiculous. you can’t really deny him, though.

”… fine. it’s your fault if i get sick, though.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.

but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long you’ve pulled away. ”— there. happy now?”

”for now,” he quips, equally teasing. he’s cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days.

”that’ll do,” you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. ”wanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?”

you don’t really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. you’ve never seen him turn down anything sweet — and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy.

”got it,” you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. “there’s soup left, too. but maybe you’d rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.”

satoru gapes. ”you kidding? that was the best soup i’ve ever had!”

his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. ”satoru. you don’t have to lie.”

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!”

you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?”

satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.

”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

you know he’s just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d like — crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe.

as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. ”well, you can have more of it later, then,” you make a move to get off the bed. ”let’s go eat ice cream.”

after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.

”you should probably get a change of clothes,” you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. ”you’ve been wearing that shirt all day.”

”oh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?” satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. ”you know you can always just ask.”

you huff out a sardonic breath. ”yeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.” you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. “and some pants.”

”you don’t like the underwear?” he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. “this is an expensive brand, you know?”

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands,” you scoff, a little snarky. ”just — put some comfortable clothes on, okay? i’ll go get the ice cream ready.”

”wait!” he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. “you’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?”

“… okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.”

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. you won’t give him the satisfaction.

when he’s done, he’s wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. it’s a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.

satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you don’t put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.

you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; you’re much too soft for him. and he’s still sick, even if he’s doing better. you couldn’t resist him even if you tried.

so you opt to indulge him.

”baby, i think my fever’s going up again…” satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. ”can you check?”

you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. ”this is the fifth time you’ve asked me to check your temperature, toru.”

”just wanna make sure,” he whines. “please?”

with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead — humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasn’t gone up. just like it hadn’t gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.

”you’re good.”

”oh, thank god,” he exhales. ”are you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.”

”satoru,” you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. ”you can just ask me if you want a kiss.”

”a kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesn’t worsen.”

he’s grinning, and you’re rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well you’re going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.

”hmm…” you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ”nope. definitely still the same temperature.”

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

”hmm. okay, got it.” he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. “that’s good. just wanted to check, you know?”

”of course.”

”might need you to check again soon. just to be safe,” he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you don’t bother hiding yours.

”got it, got it,” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. “anything for my sick baby.”

satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you can’t help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movie’s almost over, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore.

”your room is very like you.”

it’s sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. you’re both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.

”… oh? how so?”

“well…” you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriend’s hair. ”when i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?”

satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk.

”but then i went into your room, and — it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.” satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. ”maybe it doesn’t make sense? i guess i’ve just been thinking about it.”

he closes his eyes.

there’s something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell you’re being sincere. it’s something he likes about you — that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you aren’t sure that he’ll return the favour. he likes to think it’s rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesn’t think he’s quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isn’t something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isn’t afraid that you’ll use it against him.

you’re a comfort; his safe haven. a place to rest his weary head. maybe you always have been, even before he really got to know you.

”i like your place more,” he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. ”it feels very… you.”

a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. ”how so?”

and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. ”it’s… homely. warm,” his smile only grows. “and awfully sentimental.”

he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. it’s warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you don’t think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin he’s shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you can’t look away.

you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, you’ve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. it’s all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.

”you’re cute,” satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

you can’t look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you aren’t sure if they’re conscious or not. it’d be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. it’s the one thing you’re sure of.

this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe it’s something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.

”… well,” he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. ”maybe i will, then.”

you reach something.

you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. it’s there and then it isn’t, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then —

a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.

(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)

…

satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. ”this movie’s awful, huh?”

”yeah,” you’re quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. ”it’s good in a so bad it’s good kinda way, though.”

he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasn’t been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking — he’s not sure he could take it.

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

his immune system is strong, there’s no denying that. but more than anything, he simply can’t afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state — stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended — makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though he’s gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.

it’s funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasn’t something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. he’s satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.

but then you came along. you came to his rescue, spring in your pockets, and you took care of him, with what he knows to be love. genuine, earnest concern for his wellbeing. his happiness.

yeah — it’s funny, for sure. satoru never thought he’d ever enjoy being sick.

yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasn’t kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.

you’re so good to him. there’s nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. he’s glad you came over, after all. glad you’re so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru can’t help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude — what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?

”i love you so much,” he blurts out, practically beaming. now you’re in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.

”where did that come from?” you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last — your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.

”just felt like saying it!” he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. ”i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. ”my whole world.”

for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until you’re pushing him away. it’s overwhelming, but you’ve never minded. this is how you measure his love — little gaps between too much and never enough.

”… you’re not gonna say it back?” comes a whine, right by your ear. now he’s nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. he’s being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest.

”i love you too, satoru,” you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. ”my whole universe.”

satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when he’s got you in his lap like this. if he could, he’d keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be.

even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and you’re watching a good movie, and you’re gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, he’ll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then he’ll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and you’ll grumble all sweetly, and he’ll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. you’ll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today.

if the fever’s gone by then, you’ll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crêpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then he’ll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.

living together with you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. it wouldn’t be bad at all, actually.

the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more. maybe he’ll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal — but if he has to, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. you’re worth the emotional toll.

you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what he’s thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks that’s for the best. he knows you’ll indulge him, at the end of the day.

maybe he’ll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.

#save me sick soft sweet sappy satoru….. save me……..#he means the wholeeee universe to me :’3 i love this specific toru sm !! i really do think he’s a lonely sweetie at heart :((#i wrote this fic a LONG time ago but i polished it a bunch so hopefully it doesnt feel rusty !!#i scrambled to come up w a title in time but i think this one kinda slaps idk … im severely sleepy rn so it might. Not be. though 😭😭#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x y/n

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latenightreadingpdf · 1 month ago

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A Hufflepuff's Heart - Regulus Black

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: Regulus Black’s unexpected friendship with a sweet Hufflepuff is revealed when Sirius catches them together.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The air in the castle was brisk, the cool draft weaving through the stone corridors and carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and freshly lit torches. Regulus pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, his mind preoccupied with the latest round of pranks that had once again targeted Slytherin House. It wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible—his brother Sirius’s handiwork was as familiar as it was aggravating. Regulus could almost predict the moment Sirius would appear, armed with a smirk and a taunt, ready to test his patience yet again.

Sure enough, as Regulus turned the corner, Sirius was waiting there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Ah, Regulus,” Sirius drawled, that irritatingly self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “How’s my favorite Slytherin?”

Regulus forced himself to remain calm, carefully keeping his expression neutral, planning to just walk right past his brother.

Sirius’s grin widened, undeterred. “I take it you noticed the common room… enhancement? Thought the emerald and silver scheme could use a bit of sparkle.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, the irritation flaring up despite his attempts to stay indifferent. “If you’re going to make yourself a nuisance, at least have the decency to make it subtle.”

“Oh, subtlety is no fun, Reg,” Sirius replied easily, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re incapable of a bit of rule-breaking yourself. Don’t think I don’t know about those after-hours trips to the library—”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted sharply, his voice low but firm. “I’m not interested in discussing my nightly habits with you.”

Before Sirius could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a familiar, bright voice that cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Reggy!”

Both brothers turned to see you striding towards them, your Hufflepuff robes swishing as you approached, your face lighting up with a smile that was warm enough to melt even the most stubborn winter chill. Regulus’s expression softened instantly, his usual guarded look replaced by something more open, more vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you walked right up to Regulus and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened for a heartbeat, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but quickly melted into the embrace, his arms coming up to hold you close.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth and a hint of concern. “How have you been?”

“I’m… good,” Regulus replied, his voice softer than usual, almost as if he were afraid of breaking the spell your presence cast. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips, a rare sight that seemed reserved only for you.

As you finally pulled back, still standing close to him, you seemed to notice Sirius for the first time, your gaze shifting over to the older Black brother with a look of surprise. A polite, curious smile flickered across your face as you gave him a small wave.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t realize there was anyone else here. I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself in that sweet, open way that Regulus had come to adore.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, looking you up and down as if trying to solve a riddle. He offered a nod, his grin softening into something more curious, though he said nothing in reply. For once, Sirius Black seemed to be at a loss for words. There was something he couldn’t quite place about you—a gentleness, a warmth—that seemed so at odds with the icy walls Regulus usually built around himself. It was strange, almost impossible to imagine someone so kind being so close to his guarded, distant brother.

After a moment, Sirius managed a slight smile, finally extending his hand to you. "Sirius Black,” he introduced himself, his tone curious, though he kept his usual charm restrained. “Regulus��s… older brother.”

You took his hand, returning his smile with a polite one of your own. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. You turned back to Regulus, seemingly oblivious to Sirius’s scrutiny. “I had no idea you had a brother, Reggy!” you said with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement. “You keep him quite the secret.”

Regulus shifted, his hand instinctively tightening around your shoulder. He’d dreaded this moment for so long, the day you would meet Sirius, the brother who seemed to draw people in without effort, who everyone adored and admired. Regulus had always felt invisible in his shadow, the “other” Black brother, colder and quieter, always on the outside looking in. But you had seen him—you had seen past the walls, the carefully constructed mask, and found something worth holding onto. And he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing that with Sirius, of watching you get pulled into his brother’s orbit and realizing he could never be what Sirius was.

Sirius, still watching silently, caught the faint, possessive gesture, the way Regulus seemed to pull you closer as if trying to keep you all to himself. His expression flickered with something unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something softer, something he hadn’t expected to feel. Seeing Regulus with you—seeing his younger brother so fiercely protective of this rare connection—stirred something in him, a strange pang of almost… respect.

The silence stretched, and you shifted slightly, glancing between the two brothers as if sensing the tension, though you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you gave Sirius a warm, friendly smile before turning back to Regulus, your hand reaching for his as you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, Reggy and I should get going,” you said softly, looking up at him. “We’ve got some homework to catch up on.”

Regulus’s gaze softened at the touch, and he nodded, his lips curving into that faint, private smile that he reserved only for you. “Yes, we should.”

With a final nod toward Sirius, Regulus gently guided you down the hallway, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. He glanced back once, catching Sirius’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the brothers shared a look of understanding—a silent acknowledgment, a truce of sorts. Sirius watched as you walked away together, his brow furrowed in thought, his mind turning over the strange puzzle of his brother and his unlikely friend.

How did someone as kind, as open-hearted as you manage to find your way into the life of someone as complex and withdrawn as Regulus? Sirius couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom what had drawn you to his quiet, brooding brother. But as he watched the two of you disappear down the corridor, he felt a spark of hope, a rare flicker of warmth in the cold, stone-cast walls of the castle.

Maybe Regulus had found something Sirius had never truly understood—a genuine connection that didn’t rely on charm or bravado, but on something softer, something real.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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acciotaitlynn · 14 days ago

Note

could you write a smut fic about cat!xavier in heat after mc come home from a long day of work? like him being super needy and begging mc to help him!

Hiii! Thanks for requesting (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) I started on this the day before your ask came through; it was meant to be. I don't mean for xavier to keep taking priority with requests, you guys, I just love writing him so much 😩

₍^. .^₎⟆♡ xavier⤷fem!reader

₍^. .^₎⟆♡ sexual content, 18+, zero plot; pure filth, oral;꒰f&m receiving꒱ fingering, (maybe too much) kitty ear/tail/fur play, jealous/needy xav, marking/claiming, exhibitionism, hints to gaslighting & manipulation (but like cute manipulation bc it's xavier yk🥴) a lotta purring, low-key breeding kink, angel/bunny/baby used, no protection, kitten lickss, very faint reference to sexual assault, it's super soft, Jeremiah and his cat appear, loosely based on xai's floof attack memory, no thought went into this i was just horny and wanted to comfort him 🙈

₍^. .^₎⟆♡ 5.5k wc

Jeremiah’s shop is a welcome sight as you round the corner, each step bringing you closer to the person you’ve been aching to see. Despite only three days passing, the longing for Xavier has been more drastic than usual. His pouty face lingers in your mind, mixing with the distress that clouded his eyes when you explained that he couldn’t join you on your sudden business trip.

The casual facade you tried to show when you left him was challenging to conjure and even harder to maintain. Each word spoken felt like a tiny dagger to your heart, and every droop of his cat ears wrapped worry tightly around you. Xavier’s vulnerability, a side of him you’re not used to seeing, tugged at your heartstrings. You know that even without his evol, he’s undoubtedly capable of self-protection, but his current state made you acutely aware of the potential risks in your absence. The newfound separation anxiety, forgetfulness, and his increased tendency to doze off had made leaving him unbearable. If it weren’t for your team needing your assistance on the mission, you wouldn’t have left him at all.

The memory of his guilt trip while packing lingers, his intention clear as day as he adorned that adorable gaze, his cat ears drooping in sync with his mood. “Staying home. Alone. What could possibly go wrong?” His glare is petulant as he crosses his arms and avoids your stare. “The worst that could happen is I get so absorbed in grooming myself that I forget to eat. Or maybe I’ll end up chasing birds on the rooftop. Or possibly someone will whisk me away and make me their cat instead…”

Although the last comment pissed you off, understanding Xavier’s struggle in managing his feline traits prompted you to let it slide.

But when his behavior shifted to ignored calls and curt responses, you began to wonder if what you perceived as neediness was actually a subtle warning.

You enter Philo, the gentle tinkling of chimes accompanying the closing door. Jeremiah’s face lights up with a welcoming smile when he sees you. “Back so soon? ” he asks, spinning you around in a warm hug.

“I caught an earlier flight home,” Returning the embrace, you scan the shop for Xavier, the knot of anxiety within you tightening painfully.

Sensing your unease, Jeremiah adds, “Xavier left earlier this morning with the cat. He mentioned something about getting ready for your homecoming party.” Pausing, his brow furrows before he continues, “But he didn’t appear too celebratory when he left...” Nausea washes over you, making it difficult to question Jeremiah further as it renders you speechless.

As you seek out Xavier once more, he steps into the shop. The sunlight briefly conceals his expression, but the irritation in his eyes is evident when he notices your proximity to Jeremiah.

Jeremiah gives a knowing chuckle, casting an amused glance at Xavier. “I think that’s my cue to leave,” he remarks, drifting toward another customer as his cheerful voice fades away.

As Xavier approaches you, his gaze unreadable, a surge of warmth washes through your entire body. Dressed in a finely tailored dark blue butler uniform, he exudes an irresistible charm, his fluffy tail swaying and cat ears flattened back. The playful kitten in his arms squirms eagerly, yearning to greet you.

Xavier’s demeanor remains composed and casual, yet his telltale ears and tail betray his true emotions. Each irritated flick of his tail heightens your concerns, tugging at you to reach out, but his aloof facade grounds you. “Decided to explore a new career path while I was away?” you playfully jab.

Indifferent, he nods toward the kitten. “You liked the outfit he wore when you dropped me off. I thought another set wouldn’t hurt.”

Your gaze narrows when you notice the kitten’s lack of matching attire. “Xavier… where are his clothes?”

His feigned innocence is impressive. “None of them fit anymore. Perhaps I’ve been too generous with treats.”

You hope it’s a jest, though Jeremiah’s pet does appear slightly plumper.

Unable to resist the kitten’s cuteness, you offer a soft smile, reaching out to stroke its tiny ears. But Xavier abruptly sets the animal down with a hint of annoyance. His sulky expression tempts you to tickle his ears, but he pulls away just in time.

Heading toward the door, he casually suggests, “The plants in the greenhouse need watering. Do you want to help?”

Following along with an exasperated sigh, you draw near, attempting to bridge the gap between you. “How did the mission go?” Xavier inquires, his gaze fixed on the vibrant flowers gracing the pathway.

His carefree attitude prompts a desire to downplay your worry and declare that you didn’t miss him. However, as he holds open the door, his azure eyes fixed on you expectantly, the truth spills out, your rational side consumed by his beauty.

With a tender smile, you brush his hair back. To your surprise, Xavier lets you, leaning subtly into your touch. “The mission was successful, but… I really missed you.” Your voice trails off. Practically ghosting you for three days doesn’t exactly point to him missing you, too. Acknowledging your feelings without reciprocation leaves you feeling exposed.

He returns your soft smile as you pass under his arm, the greenhouse instantly enveloping you in a soothing floral aroma. Typically a sanctuary for you, Philo’s serene ambiance draws you in, even without Xavier.

But not even the well-tended plants that ordinarily bring you peace can alleviate your current unease. Your stomach flutters with nerves as you observe Xavier moving about the room.

Though he wrestles with the anguish and confusion reflected in your eyes, Xavier’s own pain at being left behind overshadows it. He understands you didn’t have a choice; Jenna and the team needed you. But that understanding does little to soothe his feelings. He needed you, too—primarily for cuddles and company—but that’s beside the point.

Xavier’s meticulous care for the plants contrasts sharply with the cold demeanor he directs at you. As you tend to a patch of flowers beside him, you pointedly avoid his gaze. “I understand you’re upset… But did your grudge have to involve forgetting me for the entire trip?” The hurt in your voice is unmistakable, mirrored by the frustrated tears misting your eyes.

Crouching down to water a low shelf of succulents, Xavier remains silent for a moment before murmuring, “You’re the one who forgot about me.”

You sit on a nearby bench, offering a soft smile when he finally meets your eyes. “That’s not possible, Xai.”

He scowls at an innocent patch of flowers, his tone dry as he pouts, “When you arrived, the first thing you did was greet Jeremiah and try to pet other cats.”

Gently taking his hand, you pull him closer, your gaze understanding as you let your fingers trace his cheek. As much as you want to tease him for his jealousy, his endearing expression makes it impossible. Instead, you reach out, delicately scratching his cat ear as you gauge his reaction.

Eyes fluttering shut, he purrs and leans into your touch before his sultry gaze meets yours again. “So you remembered to be gentle with my ears…” he murmurs, giving you another adorably sulky look.

You grow bolder, your nails scratching the soft fur at the base of his ear a little harder, pulling a sharp gasp from you when Xavier moans and guides your hand to his cheek, nuzzling into your warmth. As you brush your fingers over his lips, the desire to draw closer overwhelms you, but his comment from before still lingers in your mind.

“Well, if you didn’t forget about me, there must be another reason for ignoring me. Maybe you did find a new owner,” you trail off, casting your gaze away.

Xavier looks taken aback, regret clouding his features. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he begins, moving between your thighs and wrapping his arms around your waist.

Pouting, you mumble, “Well, did you find someone, then?”

His expression is as tender as his kiss. He shakes his head. “No, I waited patiently for my caretaker to return to me.”

Your breath catches at his touch, needy and demanding, gripping your waist and pressing his tongue into your mouth. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss him back eagerly, your hands unable to resist his fluffy ears. Brushing your fingers along the soft edges, you bite and suck on his plump lips, greedily inhaling the smooth sounds that escape him. You trail your nails down the back of his ears, slowly reaching the base. Gripping his chin, you guide his glassy gaze to yours, thumb sweeping over his skin as you admire his flushed face.

“Is this helping?” you murmur hopefully as Xavier pulls your thumb into his mouth, licking and nipping at it before responding, “Mmm, it’s nice… but this isn’t what I’m looking for.” Guiding your hand along his body as he stands, his tone turns almost cocky as he looks down at you. “You’re good with cat butlers. You don't need any hints, right?”

Smirking, you playfully scratch at his chest while pressing your breasts together and gazing up at him. His eyes drift to your exposed skin as he tucks a lock of your hair back, murmuring, “I guess you know exactly how to get a cat purring, huh?” He moves your hand lower, hovering it over his erection. “Why not try here?” he suggests.

Hesitant, you glance toward the door, picturing Jeremiah walking in with your hand on Xavier’s cock.

Xavier brings your gaze back to his, his demeanor shifting to possessive. “Let him walk in. I saw how close he was to you… How his face lit up. I think he needs a reminder of who you belong to.”

He squeezes your nipple through your dress, tugging a little before giving your breast a light smack. Frustration builds within Xavier as you continue to deny him. His ability to temper his neediness and jealousy has left him entirely. But he finds he quite likes having an excuse to indulge this side of himself. Fingers tangling in your hair, he tilts your head back, guiding your gaze to his. “You want to take care of me, don’t you?” he murmurs.

Your heart races as you nod, allowing him to cup your hand over his length. You begin to stroke him, watching as he bites his lip to hold back a moan. Kissing along the fabric of his pants, your hands inch up to his zipper. But your fingers hesitate, your gaze finding the door again—the thought of someone actually walking in churns uncomfortably in your gut. But Xavier is too tempting to resist.

Your lips trail over his satiny skin, tongue eagerly licking up the pretty beads of precum dripping down. Humming happily at his taste and the heat of him on your tongue, you cup his balls, squeezing as you murmur, “You always taste so good…”

Genuine sadness colors his voice as he whispers, “I didn't think you’d really leave me like this.”

As you study him, guilt swells at the hurt you’ve caused, intentionally or not. You spread his precum around and stroke him gently, kissing the tip of his cock. Your voice is warm and earnest as you tease his skin. “I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry.”

Your lips suction around the head, drawing out more of his salty, sweet taste before you meet his eyes and murmur, “I didn’t want to leave you behind… I missed you so much.” He gasps as you take him deep down your throat, his tail swishing happily before wrapping around your waist.

Seeing him standing over you, his eyes slamming shut as his head falls back in pleasure fills you with unparalleled ecstasy. He relaxes as you take him, gripping your hair tenderly, his lips parted and breaths quick as he murmurs, “I hope Jeremiah walks in right now. I want to show him how good I make you feel just by letting you suck my cock.”

Noticing your hand slipping under your dress to play in your slick folds, he tilts his head slightly, his soft voice sending chills down your spine. “Can I see what you made for me?” Blushing, you hold up your sticky fingers, showing him how the slick clings to your skin. With a pleased groan, he combs his hand through your hair, cupping your cheek as he murmurs, “Now clean them up.” You obey happily.

Xavier’s eyes darken. Grabbing your hand, he guides your fingers back inside you with a soft kiss. His tail flicking over your breasts sends arousal coursing through you, drawing out a whiny moan as you take him back into your mouth. He purrs, stroking your hair as his hips make deep, tiny thrusts. Seeking more of its softness, one hand grips his thigh as the other strokes the fur at the base of his tail.

With a sharp gasp, his grip on your hair tightens as his movements grow harsher. His voice is a heated, broken mumble. “Fuck, fuck fuckk… feels— feels so good… harder, baby. please...” He holds your face still, his tail wrapping around your arm as your touch turns firmer. Your nails dig into his thigh, trying to stay grounded through the relentless way he fucks your face. It’s extremely hot; Xavier pushing himself deep into your throat, every movement reeking of dominance and possession, each rough touch meant to convey that you’re his—as if you could ever forget.

“Yeah… right there. Just under my tail,” he breathes out, slapping your breast when you do as instructed. Fingers slipping under his tail, you massage the soft fur, whimpering when he moans, his jaw going slack as he repeats, “Feels so good…” The sounds slipping from Xavier are so decadent they take your breath away.

He groans when your fingers switch to a deep scratch, tangling in his fur as his tail grips your arm tightly, the tip making tiny, happy flicks against your skin. “How could I ever want someone else to care for me? To own me? I’ve never been anything but yours,” he murmurs, his voice pained and honest, trailing off as his hand brushes your cheek. “You are everything to me...”

He pulls himself from your mouth’s warmth, and you hold your tongue out, accepting the slap of his girth before he coats your lips in his essence. He gives you an amused smile. “Say it—say you’re mine, too.” His cock pushes back in, thrusting deep enough to choke you before popping out, allowing you to speak. “Y…yours, Xavier. All yours, I promise!”

Your words are muffled by him jamming himself back in, taking you even rougher than before. His smile is playful as he murmurs, “Yep, All mine…” His tail brushes your skin as his hot breath ghosts over your hair. “Mine to love. Mine to protect. Mine to breed.”

The moan you release at his words is almost embarrassing. You don’t even want what he’s suggesting, but the idea nearly makes you beg him to do just that. It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said… and you like it way too much. Pride and lust cloud Xavier’s judgment when he notices your reaction. Guiding your gaze to his with a tug on your hair, his eyes burn into you, pleasure winding tightly in his core as you submit to him.

“You like that idea, don’t you?” he asks with a smug smile, his hips moving faster. “Want me to cum inside you? Fill you with my litter? You want that…” His voice trails off, his touch turning needy as he makes a pointed thrust inside you. You choke around his cock, eyes tearing up as he sings, “Everyone will know you’re mine, then, huh?”

Pushing himself as deep as he can, his length grows firmer the closer he gets to release. “Gonna fill you up here first… But I’ll give you what you want, I promise.” Tears escape now, flowing freely as you do your best to take him, unable to breathe around his girth. Paying special attention to his tail, you watch every expression as your name slips out, ecstasy brightening his features as he fills your throat with warmth.

Your other hand wraps around to stroke his tail, scratching in time to the rhythm of his hips, working every last drop from his pretty cock. His wide eyes search your face as his thumb presses your lip, watching the plump skin bounce back before he pulls you into a passionate kiss. Pulling back slightly, you begin to fix his pants, only to have your wrist caught in a firm grip.

He tilts his head with a frown and feigned innocence. “I don’t remember mentioning anything about being finished,” he says with a questioning lift of his brow.

Giving him a look of disbelief, you whisper desperately, “We’ve already been here way too long, Xavier! Jeremiah has to know by now that we’re not watering plants.”

Xavier gives a casual shrug before his hands slip under your dress straps, tugging the fabric down to free your breasts. He groans softly, his brows knitting together as he grazes a nail over the hardened bud. “If he already knows, what’s the harm in staying a little longer?”

You sigh in reluctant agreement, eyes fluttering shut as he squeezes and plays, knowing there’s no talking him out of something he wants so badly. Xavier is relentless and persistent, especially when it comes to your body.

With the ability to become a professional gaslighter at will, his antics don’t bring much frustration, not when he looks at you with that infuriatingly endearing gaze, filth dripping from his lips as he praises you. At the same time, his hands roam your body, searching for cracks in your defenses. If you’ve mentioned something new, he’ll try it, murmuring, “Are you sure you want to stop, angel? … But didn’t you want to know what it feels like?” The next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in his excitement, begging him to fuck you like it was all your idea.

Kneeling before you, his tail curls around your ankle as he spreads your legs. His eyes catch on the damp fabric under your dress as his thumb circles it slowly. Kneading your breast, his fingers sweep back and forth over your clit as he kisses and nibbles at your neck, leaving gentle marks along the way.

Tilting your head to the side, his warm lips brush your jaw, his fingers pressing harder against your heat. Your needy moan makes him smile as he leans down, breathing in your scent and pressing a kiss to the delicate lace covering you.

A quiet squeal slips out when he tears your underwear off, stuffing them in his pocket with a satisfied smirk as he spreads your legs wider. “Better keep quiet, bunny…” he murmurs, covering your mouth before he licks up your arousal with a needy groan that rumbles through your core. His touch becomes frantic as he pushes your legs to either side of you on the bench, plunging his tongue in and out of your drenched pussy, practically drinking you in. His hand moves to grip your inner thigh instead as he sits cross-legged in front of you.

His ministrations turn languid and teasing, his body relaxing with a deep sigh as he fills you with a finger. His unhurried actions indicate he’s not planning to make this quick, but you don’t mind. Gently scratching his furry ears, you concentrate on his hot breath on your skin and the soft sounds he makes as he watches you crumble in his arms. Guiding your gaze to his, he holds your chin in place as his mouth moves over you.

Xavier’s been planning this since the moment you dropped him off here. Claiming you in Jeremiah’s greenhouse, with customers just one room away, isn’t wise. It’s impolite and reckless, but he couldn’t care less. He admires you against the serene foliage, your skin dewy and eyes bright. He pictures Jeremiah walking in while his tongue is deep inside you, the vision hurtling him toward release without a touch. His entire mouth wraps around you, teeth and tongue devouring softly as he whimpers, a damp spot spreading on his loose pants as his cheeks flush pink.

You massage the base of his ears, scratching up and down the backs, getting higher and higher on the blissful look in his eyes as he gazes up at you. Continuing to scratch one of his ears, you hold onto his tail, groaning when you feel it curl around your wrist. Xavier starts giving your clit little kitten licks, slow and steady, until your body trembles, your lonely pussy clenching as you cum. His fingers fill you, riding you through the waves of your release until you’re whimpering and squirming beneath him.

Pulling back, he sucks his fingers clean with a satisfied smirk in his sparkling eyes. Pulling you close for a kiss, he murmurs against your lips, “Let’s go. We can finish at home.” Your eyes widen when you realize he intends to stop. You know you should. It’s only a matter of time before someone walks in. But every part of you is screaming for him to take you, and you don’t want to wait until you get home.

He stands, lifting you by the waist, but you cling on tight when he tries to pull away. With a tender smile and a confused look, he hugs you back and kisses your hair. Your fingers trail to the base of his tail as you mimic his kitten licks on the sensitive spot beneath his ear. You bask in his gentle laughter and the way he holds you delicately, like you’re something immensely precious.

“Please,” you murmur against his lips, kissing him once, then twice, before continuing, “I don’t want to go home. I need you...” His eyes flash as he cradles your face with a quiet desperation. Lips capturing yours, he backs you against the wall, nuzzling your nose as his soft plea wraps around you like a cozy blanket. “Say it again…”

Adoration shines in your eyes as you caress his cheek, repeating, “I need you, Xavier… I always need you.” Without a word, he lifts you with one arm while his other hand guides his cock inside you. Pressing your back against the wall, his hands support your ass as he fucks deep into you, murmuring, “Legs back, baby.” You nod, whimpering when you look down at the two of you joined. Sticky from his last release, his cum mixes with your essence, messily building at the base of his cock and making his skin seem like shimmery silk.

You admire his form, your gaze languidly roaming his body. The dark suit makes his eyes shine bright, so full of love when they meet yours that they’re almost blinding. Gripping your thighs tighter, you try to hold back the orgasm rising in you just from looking at him. “That outfit is just unfair…” you mumble, casting your eyes away as your cheeks heat. Sometimes, Xavier’s allure is a bit overwhelming. His skin, glowing faintly as his emotions take him over, makes him look like an ethereal being driving his cock into you mercilessly.

Your comment doesn’t seem to reach him. There’s a despairing note to his voice as his body melts flush against yours, his slow movements pressing your back painfully against the wall. Xavier can’t contain the needy words that slip out, a pained whisper heating your skin as he rests his forehead against yours. “Please—don’t leave me again.” His kisses turn restless. “Even when it’s not this easy for me to express it— I… I always need you.”

Now free with Xavier’s body pinning your legs, your hands delicately cradle his cheeks as your thumbs brush away unshed tears. You whimper when you meet his blissed-out gaze, desire clouding his features as his cock makes a pointed thrust that borders on discomfort. His voice is sorrowful, leading you to wrap him in a tight hug, your heart effectively shattering into pieces as he nuzzles against your neck. “I feel lost when you’re not with me... Running around aimlessly without my guiding light.”

Shocked by his honesty, you search his eyes, blown away by the raw affection overwhelming their endless depths. While it’s always been evident that Xavier cares for you deeply, he’s often more reserved about his feelings than his touches. His thumb teases your nipple, drawing a pained moan from him when it instantly hardens beneath his touch. “So pretty…” he whispers, his gaze drifts along your form as his movements grow feverish. He kisses your cheek, brushing your hair back as he drives you crazy with more licks and nibbles along your skin, his gentle purrs setting you on fire.

With glassy eyes, his filthy praises fill the air, twisting your core with unknown pleasure as you watch him take you. “So warm and soft…” he whimpers, taking your mouth in a messy kiss, nearly whining as he says, “You have no idea how much I’ve needed you… All I can think about is filling you, breeding you—” He trails off with a little shake of his head as if to snap himself out of the thought. Revealing this long-buried desire of his is undoubtedly something he’ll regret when his feline traits fade. But when he feels your body squeeze his cock in response to his words, your hands gently tangling in his hair as you scratch his ears harder, his embarrassment washes away entirely.

His features are bright with joy, his gaze captivating and seductive as he purrs softly, leaning into your touch. Your pink cheeks are a mirror image of his as you admire his perfect features and his radiant heart. Continuing to scratch one of his ears, your other hand trails to the base of his tail, massaging deeply as the soft fur flicks against his cock and your entrance. Both of you gasp at the sensation, Xavier fucking into you messily as his tail swishes back and forth over your sensitive skin. Your fingers work in his fur, pulling a needy moan from Xavier when you pull him closer, your head resting against his shoulder.

“Just like that…” you whisper helplessly, your mind growing fuzzy as you become putty in his arms, giving yourself entirely to how good he’s making you feel. His eyes flash as he lowers you to the ground, pressing your chest against the wall and wrapping his hand around your throat. Tilting your head back, you rest against his chest, his thumb brushing over your pulse point as he slips back inside you. His lips travel your shoulders, covering your skin with more marks as a fervent chant of “mine” caresses your skin and heart.

His tail flicks playfully over your clit, the fur wet and sticky with your shared essence. Reaching for his fluffy ear, you groan softly, grinding against him as you melt at the silky sensation. Gripping your hips, he bends you over, his pace punishing as he takes you. Rough slaps leave bright pink hand prints littering your ass, pulling loud cries from you that are sure to be heard in the next room. You cover your mouth, but Xavier pulls your hand away with a mirthful smile, holding it against the wall and fucking you harder. Pride swells in him as he draws out sound after sound, each louder than the last.

You scratch his tail while it moves over your skin, satisfaction rising when your pussy clenches him tightly, and his loud curse fills the room. He pulls you flush against him again, your hands instinctively trailing back to his ears. Groaning softly, he wraps his arm around your waist, his other hand splaying over your throat as his teeth graze your neck and his movements grow sloppy. “You’ll look so pretty carrying my litter…” he mutters, sharply biting your shoulder as his cock drives deep. His thumb presses into your mouth, toying with your tongue as he kisses your cheek. “I’m so close…” he whispers, purring and nuzzling against you. Tilting your head back, he meets your gaze as his finger traces your lips. “Will you take it for me, angel?” he breathes.

Your whine is pitiful as you nod, your body sucking his release from him with a hoarse shout. The sensation of him throbbing inside you as his warm essence coats you entirely is too much. Your orgasm surges and ripples through you as you grind against him, scratching his ears as his tail teases your clit. You milk him dry while he places reverent kisses on your skin, more murmurs of “mine” filling the air as he comes down from his high with lazy thrusts.

Quickly slipping out of you, he helps you fix your dress, gathering your things as he mumbles, “We need to go home.” You raise a brow, confused by his sudden urgency. His demeanor turns calm as he adjusts his outfit and gives you a serious stare. “I'm staying inside you until the spell lifts.” His tone brooks no argument, bringing a smile to your face as you shrug casually. “I won’t fight you,” you quip. But his tone isn’t playful at all when he responds, “It probably wouldn’t matter if you did.”

Nervously clearing your throat, your eyes widen as arousal courses through you once more. Smirking, Xavier moves around the room, tending to the last plants. You tame his messy hair, wiping a smear of lipstick off his mouth as you try to make him presentable. Grabbing a napkin to clean up the shared release trickling down your thigh, you give Xavier a look of disbelief when he grabs your wrist and discards the cloth. His voice is unapologetic as he instructs, “Leave it.”

You stop dead in your tracks when Xavier unlocks the door, your words an angry sputter as you punch him hard on the arm. “You let me think someone could walk in at any moment, Xavier!” you nearly shout, frustration overwhelming you at his mind game. He gives you an innocent look, and you almost believe him when he scratches his head, mumbling, “I guess I forgot…”

Scowling, you give his forehead a sharp flick. “You are insufferable,” you mutter. He pulls you close, grinning against your lips as he murmurs, “But you liked thinking we might get caught, didn’t you? Your pussy was so tight tonight. So wet...” You push him away, crossing your arms and casting your gaze away. “I just like the cat ears, asshole.”

Xavier is right, though. Giving him a tender smile, you reach out, tickling the fluffy appendage. You soften when he leans into your touch with a quiet purr. You really do need to go home, or you might never leave this greenhouse. Taking his hand, you lead him into the hall and toward the back door, hoping to sneak out unnoticed. But Xavier pulls you in the opposite direction, his fingers firmly entwined with yours as he all but struts down the hall. Rolling your eyes, you let him drag you along, irritation swelling when you feel your release dripping out. It rolls down your thigh as you meet Jeremiah’s amused grin. Grimacing, you’re unable to say anything for yourself as you clear your throat and feign interest in a hanging planter.

Xavier's grip on you is claiming, his expression one of complete nonchalance as he thanks Jeremiah for letting him stay. Jeremiah looks you and Xavier up and down, his eyes catching on the marks littering your skin. He chuckles at Xavier’s satisfied smirk, teasing, “The plants better be okay.” With a friendly pat on Xavier’s back, Jeremiah leads you toward the front door, his voice as warm as his laughter. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Xavier. But, lovingly—go home.”

You give Jeremiah a questioning look when he removes a “closed” sign from the window. He looks at you like you’ve lost it as he unlocks the door and pushes you out. “You guys were so loud you traumatized everything within a ten-mile radius. I couldn’t let customers hear that.” His face scrunches up as he continues, “Hell, I couldn’t let myself hear that…” He ruffles your hair, grinning at Xavier’s petulant glare before he shuts the door in your face.

With a content hum, Xavier pulls you in for a kiss. You push him back with a scowl, embarrassment overwhelming you as you mutter, “Don’t push it.” It takes a few weeks before you can revisit Philo. And it’ll be a long while before you can look Jeremiah in the eye without blushing and mumbling something stupid. But what worries you most is how long it will take Xavier to stop suggesting asking the kitties at Meow’s Cafe to turn him into a cat again.

#love and deepspace #l&ds #lnds #love and deep space #love and deepspace smut #lnds smut #l&ds smut #l&ds fic #lads xavier #lnds xavier #xavier smut #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x reader #xavier lads #lads #love and deepspace fic

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bbydoll18xx · 2 months ago

Text

Baby, I Don't Want to Feel Alone

Paige is the sunshine that cuts through your darkness.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Based on this request from @tenaciousglitternerd

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: mentions of depression/anxiety, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wrote this while sobbing and listening to one direction. I hope this doesn't suck. Love you all

Depression was a funny, little thing.

It was unwavering, cloaking you in insecurities and uncertainty that clouded the hope that used to shine from your eyes.

But you managed just fine.

At least that’s the mantra you constantly repeated in your head, hoping that maybe one day it would make the words ring true.

This night was no different. You had finished all your homework, grateful for the distraction, but you were now pacing the floors of your dorm room. The anxiety was welling up inside of you. Your breathing quickened, and your heart was racing in your chest.

You put your hand over your heart, trying to soothe yourself, but the creeping feeling of dread was flooding your senses.

You hated feeling like this. It was as if all control had been ripped from your being, leaving you a vulnerable skeleton of a person. You were quickly getting to the point of no return, and you needed to pump the breaks. You needed someone to ground you.

With shaky hands, you grab your phone, sending a text to Jana, hoping it came across urgent enough but not completely needy.

You hated feeling needy.

You were raised to hide your emotions, and it had taken several years being away from that environment to reprogram your brain into believing that vulnerability was not a weakness.

Jana was someone who encouraged you to let down your walls, and with that, you had built a friendship with her and her teammates.

Jana’s reply comes quickly. ‘The apartment is empty. I’ll be back in 30. Make yourself at home.’

You waste no time throwing on a sweatshirt and grabbing your keys, desperately needing to get out of the four walls that had begun closing in on you.

The bitter chill of the autumnal air stings your eyes and your throat as you walk across campus. It was a welcomed distraction from the hurricane of thoughts swirling in your head. You sniffle, and you blame it on the cold rather than the tears welling up in your eyes.

You had to keep it together. Once that barrier was crossed, you weren’t sure if you’d ever come back.

You walk through the door, and the quiet spooks you. Jana lived with Paige, and Allie, too. But living with Paige came with the chaos and exuberance that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

You close the door, not caring to be overtly quiet and throw yourself down on the couch. The blanket that is thrown across the pillows smells like Paige.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the tears to stream down your face, washing away any hope of maintaining your air of indifference.

The truth was that you had feelings for Paige for months now. How could you not?

She was everything good in the miserable, stinking world. She was laughter and light personified. She was caring and smart and funny and so, so pretty.

Why would she ever want someone like you?

The poignant realization adds to your melancholy, throwing you into another spiral.

Sobs wrack your body as you pull your legs up to your core, curling yourself into a ball as the tears soak the cushions.

A small creak sounds through the empty room, and your pulse quickens as you look towards the door, expecting Jana to walk in.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You hear, and your head whips towards the voice.

Paige is standing in her doorway with a confused look shrouding her features. She pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she walks over to where you are.

Swiftly wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, you hastily apologize. “Jana said I could come over and that no one was home. Didn’t mean to bother you,” you say, your voice cracking and thick with more unshed tears.

“Hey,” she says, sitting down next to you. “It’s all good, just tell me what’s wrong.” She brings a thumb to brush away a stray tear that you missed, and as she does, a few more fall in its place.

Her reassurance makes you fall apart. Your bottom lip wobbles, as another sob erupts in your chest, rattling through you.

“Just havin’ a bad day. Didn’t want to be alone.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, as you looked down at the wet sleeves of your sweatshirt.

Paige’s hand touches your chin gently, making you look her in the eye. “I’m here,” she pronounces, tucking you into her side and maneuvering your legs to lay over her lap.

Her presence was warm and safe, like coming home after a long, shitty day, and you sink into her. You sit with her in silence, listening to her breathing as yours evens out.

Paige’s hands leave your thigh to entwine your fingers with hers, as you marvel at the soft skin and the prominent veins running through them, proof that she was in fact real.

Things seemed a little too okay to be real.

“Feelin’ better?” She asks, as her tongue peeks out to swipe across the pink plushness of her bottom lip.

“This is the calmest I've felt in a long time,” you confess, your cheeks turning pink at your own admission.

“Thought you hated me, or whatever. You always seem to avoid me,” Paige mumbles.

Her candor sends shock waves through your body, washing you in regret.

“I could never hate you, Paige,” you whisper, your gaze dropping back down to her lips.

She slowly leans in, making your breath quicken. She was close enough that you could feel her own breath fan across your face. Your eyes flutter close, and you feel her fingers ghost across your cheek.

The loud noise of the front door being opened shocks you, as you quickly pull away from the blonde girl, and your eyes fly open, darting towards Jana as she walks in.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” She asks with a giant smirk plastered on her face as she crosses her arms in an accusatory fashion.

“Oh, my god, you knew Paige was here, didn’t you?” You exclaim, pointing a finger at Jana.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” she shrugs, but the twinkle in her eyes gives her away instantly.

Paige’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What is going on?”

“She likes you, and she was sad. I knew you’d fix her right up,” Jana reasons with a grin. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” you mumble.

“What can I say,” Paige boasts. “I make everything better.”

You roll your eyes but you could not deny it.

She pulls you in for a kiss, confirming that she really does make everything better.

hii everyone sorry i've been lowkey MIA. Please let me know what you think. I think this kind of healed something in me

As always, my inbox is always open. And I’m always here if you guys need to talk :)

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half, @patscorner, @sophswbb, @dietcokesmom, @tndaqlifwy, @ch12334, @double22, @inthedeathofherreptuation, @authentic-girl03, @blueredg52 , @kmoneymartini , @mrsarnold, @ittiwdwysylm

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message :)

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #hurt/comfort

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gardenofnoah · 3 months ago

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"Takin' you to work today."

Pouring hot coffee into his limited edition Red Riot mug, Katsuki mumbles it like it's an afterthought.

"Why?"

"’M tired of looking at your oil light and we need groceries," he pops the last piece of your toast in his mouth as he brushes past behind you, making no effort to keep from pressing you into the counter as he does.

"Okay, but why are you taking me to work?"

He turns to you then, one pale eyebrow raised like you have three heads. "’M changing your oil?"

You put your hands on the wood top—trying to find the punchline. Feeling your heart rate spike for some unknown reason—like you’re about to be the butt of a joke you’re not aware of.

“Why are you doing that?”

When you look at him, his eyebrows knitted in something like confusion—you start to sweat, fingers linking together in a nervous knot in front of you. That look—like you should’ve known, should’ve gotten your oil changed before he noticed, and now he has to take time out of his day—

“Hey,” he says, quietly. “Where are you right now?”

Your eyes go wide—feeling vulnerable in a different way now, because he’s looking far too deeply—

“I’m sorry.” You can barely manage above a whisper.

“Why?”

You feel yourself start to panic. Start to look beyond Katsuki, for the quickest route to the front door. “Because I didn’t do it—and now you have to—“

You don’t even get the full sentence out before he’s all around you—arms wrapped around you, tucked under his chin. You, through your panic, observe however distantly that he’s being mindful of how he’s holding you. The observation comes with some guilt.

As if he’s heard the thought—“I don’t have to do anything. I wanted to—didn’t want you to have it hangin’ over your head anymore.”

Because he—

“Love you,” whispered to the crown of your head.

And it’s awful—because he loves you so much, and this has to be exhausting. Because he just wanted to do something nice for you, and now you’ve ruined it.

You’re so tired.

“It’s—um. I’m not feeling that great, actually,” you move to pull away, minutely—he lets you go like a hot pan. “You don’t have to take me to work. I’m calling out.”

You turn on your heel, retreating into your bedroom, just needing the space—to be away. From this cloud that follows you.

You listen for him—silence for a beat too long, and then clanging—knowing that he’s cleaning up your mess, not for the first time.

Wondering how sustainable it is.

#I think this happens early on in the relationship #just. trying to heal and interpreting acts of kindness as passive aggression #but it’s fine!! it’s fine. you get past it #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugou x you #mha drabble #bkg it's the little things

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cowboybeepboop · 4 months ago

Text

Rough

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: You’re Scott’s younger sister, you meet Logan when the x-men rescue him and Rogue from Magneto.

Warnings: Choking, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, p in v.

a/n: Idk but there's gonna be a part two where you’re both walking the hall and your brother notices the marks on Logan’s back and your dazed/flushed face. I hope you enjoy and if you have any requests feel free to send them my way <3

As you carefully adjust the IV line attached to the unconscious man's arm, you feel a sudden jolt of panic as his eyes snap open. In a flash, his hand shot out and wrapped around your neck, squeezing with surprising strength.

The room spun as your vision blurred, the grip of the stranger tightening with every struggling breath you took. Gasping for air, you try to push him away, but his other hand shoots out, pushing you against the wall.

His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, bore into you, filled with a primal fear and confusion that mirrored your own. The X-Men had brought him here after rescuing him and Rogue from Magneto's clutches, but clearly, he didn't know that yet.

“Please,” you gasp as you struggle in his grasp. “Let go, please.”

Logan's eyes roam over your face, taking in your features, your expression, the way you struggle against him. His heart seems to stutter in his chest, his mouth going dry as he notices your flushed face, your furrowed brows, how vulnerable you look in his grasp.

But despite these reactions, he doesn't waver, his grip on your neck only tightens, the primal instinct to defend himself overriding any other thoughts he might have. “Who the hell are you….” He said with a deep rough voice as he keeps a firm grip on you.

Your eyes begin to glaze over as you reach for his hand, fingers lacing around his wrist in a desperate attempt to free yourself. “Please,” you let out a strangled moan at the pressure, a mixture of feelings clouding your mind.

"I'm.. I'm just trying to help," you manage to gasp out, "I don't want to hurt you, please, just let go.." As you press a hand gently against his chest, Logan's eyes flutter closed at the touch. It's a stark contrast to the feral aggression he had been displaying just moments ago.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. It's as if the touch of your hand against his chest snaps him back to reality. He suddenly notices how hard he's been squeezing your neck, the panic in your voice, the fear in your eyes.

You gasp shakily, head falling to his shoulder as you try to catch your breath. Your hand falls from his wrist, fingertips trailing down his arm. Your head falling on his shoulder and your hand trailing down his arm makes him shiver slightly. He releases his grip on your neck, his hand coming up to gently cup the back of your head.

He can feel your panicked breaths against his chest, the way you're trying to steady yourself. "I'm sorry," he gruffly whispers, his voice rough with guilt.

You back away from him quietly, your back hitting the door frame as you try to sneak out of the room. Logan's eyes narrow, his senses immediately picking up on your movement. Without warning, he catches your wrist, pulling you back toward him.

He cages you in against the door frame, his body pressed against yours, preventing your escape. "Where do you think you're going, darlin'?"

Your lip quivers as you gaze up at him, unable to form a sentence as he towers over you. Logan's eyes narrow as he notices the fear in your expression. He takes a step closer, his muscular form still keeping you pinned between him and the door frame.

He's close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. He reaches up, gently running a finger along the bruise on your neck, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I'm sorry..." he mutters softly.

Your head leans back in response to his touch, your body relaxing at his apology, a soft noise escaping your parted lips as he runs his finger over the mark. Hearing the soft noise that escapes your lips, Logan's body tenses momentarily. His eyes flutter over your form for a moment, taking in your reaction to his touch.

His fingers continue to gently brush against the mark he left on your neck, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man with such power at his fingertips. "Did I hurt you?" he asks gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Only a little,” you whisper a soft lie, chest rising and falling rapidly at his proximity, his strong touch sending shivers down your spine. Logan's eyes narrow at your response, clearly hearing the lie in your voice. He leans closer, his face only a few inches away from yours. His breath brushes against your cheek as he speaks in a low growl.

"I can smell it when you lie," he says, his eyes locked on yours. His hand moves from your neck to your chin, tilting your head up slightly so that you are forced to maintain eye contact.

Your eyes widen in confusion. “Smell it?” you question him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist lightly. A sly smirk appears on Logan's face as he notices the confusion in your eyes. He takes another step closer, his body now flush against yours, pinning you against the door frame.

His other hand comes up to rest against the frame next to your head, his muscular arms caging you in. He leans forward ever so slightly, his lips hovering near your ear as he speaks in a low growl. "I have heightened senses, darlin'. I can smell your fear, your excitement...everything," he explains huskily.

You bite down on your lip, suppressing a quiet moan as his body presses into you. “Everything?” your voice is a soft whisper as his hand trails down from your neck, brushing over your collarbone. Desire coursing through you at his warm and gentle touch.

Logan's smirk deepens as he hears the faint moan you try to suppress, his keen senses picking up on every little sound you make. His hand continues to trail down your body, tracing a path along your collarbone and down to your hip.

"Everything." he confirms in a low growl. "I can smell your skin, your hair, the way your heart is racing in your chest." He presses his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he continues. "I can smell your arousal, darlin'...."

Your head falls back against the wall as a strangled gasp escapes your mouth. Hands pressing into his abdomen as you try to add a slight distance between you.

Logan lets out a low chuckle as he feels your hands attempting to push him away, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he leans into you even more, his hips pressing against yours.

"Trying to keep me at bay, darlin'?" he husks, his lips hovering over the shell of your ear. His hand on your hip moves lower, his fingers tracing light circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"But I can smell how much you're enjoying this...." He murmurs, his voice low and roughen "And you can't hide it from me..."

“Logan..” you practically moan his name, heat building in your stomach as his fingers explore your body. Hearing his name fall from your lips in a moan makes a primal possessiveness grow within him. He can feel your body responding to his touch, the heat building in your stomach, the desire.

He leans his head down, his lips brushing against the sensitive flesh of your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses as he continues to speak. "You sound pretty when you say my name like that," he growls against your skin.

His lips brush over your bruised skin, his kisses feeling like a warm apology. “We..” you begin, voice shaky and full of desperation. “We shouldn’t..” you gasp out, biting back a moan.

Logan's lips pause for a moment against your skin, his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness. He can smell the heat coming off you, the desperation in your voice, and the conflicting emotions that are swirling within you.

He pulls away slightly, his lips moving to the edge of the bruise he left on your neck. "We shouldn't?" he repeats, his breath hot against your ear. He nips at your earlobe before continuing. "Why not, darlin'?"

Your fingers brush over his bare abs, eyes squeezing shut. “Not here..,” you murmur, “Somewhere more private..” Logan's breath hitches as he feels your fingers against his bare skin, his muscles tensing under your touch. A primal possessiveness floods his senses, the need to claim you, to have you all to himself.

He leans his head back, his eyes dark with hunger as he looks at you. "Somewhere more private, huh?" he growls in a low, rough voice. "Somewhere where I can have you all to myself..."

You nod, peeking one eye open to look at his lust filled gaze. Logan can practically taste your desire on his tongue, the smell of your arousal filling his senses. He leans farther into you, his body pressing firmly against yours, his muscles tensing as he tries to keep his own desires in check.

"Then let's go, darlin'. Somewhere we can be alone," he growls, his hand gripping your hip possessively as he begins to lead you out of the room. You pull him in the direction of your room, his fingers pressing into your hip more roughly as you step inside.

As soon as you step into your room, the door closing behind you, the scent of your perfume and the unique scent that is distinctly yours hits Logan's senses like a freight train. He takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he inhales the scent, his eyes darkening even more.

He locks the door behind him, his instincts flaring at the knowledge that you are alone with him, in your private space. You turn to face him, gulping as you take in his strong muscles, eyes lingering on his growing erection.

Logan watches your gaze roam over his body, his muscles tensing under your scrutiny. He can see the way your eyes linger on his growing erection, the hunger in your expression, and it makes a feral, possessive growl rumble deep in his chest.

He closes the distance between you in a few strides, his body pressing against yours as he pins you against the wall once more. His hands come up to rest on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Like what you see, darlin'?" he growls, his voice low and hoarse. You respond with a hungry kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck.

Logan lets out a low growl as you kiss him, his body responding immediately to your touch. He deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you.

His hands move to your hips, gripping them forcefully as he presses you against the wall, his erection pressing against you. He breaks the kiss to murmur against your skin, his breath hot against your ear.

"You taste so good, darlin'..." you moan, hands going to his pants as you pull his hips against yours.

Logan's chest rumbles with a deep growl as you pull his hips against yours, his erection rubbing against your core, the thin fabric of both of your clothes the only thing separating you.

His hands grip your hips roughly, his fingers digging into your skin. "You're driving me crazy, darlin'," he groans, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to touch you...everywhere."

“Then touch me,” you bite down on your lip, gazing up at him with eyes dark with desire.

Logan's eyes darken at your words, a feral, primal hunger taking over at the sight of your lustful gaze. He leans down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands moving over your body, roaming and exploring every inch of you.

His hands slide up your sides, bunching up your clothes as they go. He breaks the kiss to pull the fabric over your head, tossing it to the side, his eyes raking over your naked form.

You subconsciously cover your body with your hands, hiding your bare skin from his piercing stare. Logan notices the way you instinctively try to hide your body from him, a deep frown appearing on his face. He moves a step closer, his hand gently taking hold of your wrists, gently but firmly moving them away from your body.

His eyes roam over your naked form, his gaze taking in every curve, every inch of skin, his own desire making him ache.

"Don't hide from me, darlin'," he growls, his voice a rough whisper. "You're beautiful, and I want to see you." you throw your head back on the wall as he cups one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

A needy moan leaves your swollen lips, your legs spreading as he presses his knee between them. He presses his knee against your clit, the rough fabric of his pants providing just enough friction to make you gasp.

The pressure builds as he rhythmically rubs into your sensitive point, his fingers continuing to toy with your hardened nipple. Your body arches into his touch, a silent plea for more, as his lips trace a path down your neck to your chest. His tongue darts out, tasting the salty sweetness of your skin, his teeth grazing over your collarbone, making you quiver.

The combination of pain and pleasure sends a jolt through your core, making you wetter, more desperate for his touch. His breathing is ragged, his control slipping as he feels your heat through his pants, your body begging for his attention.

As your hips buck against his knee, your hands fight against his grip, desperate to explore the hardened planes of his body. The wetness between your legs has soaked the fabric of his pants, leaving a dark stain that he can feel growing. Logan’s eyes flash with a fierce hunger as he feels the evidence of your arousal against him.

His grip tightens on your wrists, keeping your hands pinned above your head, as he continues to tease your nipple with his free hand. His mouth moves lower, kissing and biting down your stomach, heading towards the apex of your thighs. The anticipation is agonizing as he nears your soaked panties, his hot breath ghosting over the damp fabric.

"Please," you whimper, your body quivering with need. Logan chuckles darkly against your skin, his eyes never leaving yours as he finally gives in to your silent pleas. He drops to his knees, the sound of your gasp filling the room.

His tongue darts out, tasting you, making you moan out loud as he begins to explore your most sensitive areas with a fervent passion that steals your breath away. His hand still holds yours above your head, his other guiding your hips, urging you to grind against his face, to give him all the sweetness you have to offer.

Your legs wobble as you try to stay upright, your orgasm building with every stroke of his tongue, your need for him becoming unbearable.

With a fierce determination, Logan positions himself under your hips, releasing your wrists and replacing his grip with one that digs into your hip bones. His lips are ravenous as they devour the sweetness of your sex, his tongue flicking and swirling with a skill that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You moan loudly, your body instinctively grinding against his mouth as he teases and tastes you with an intensity that makes your legs tremble. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders for support as you try to keep yourself upright, the sensations threatening to overwhelm you.

The room fills with the sounds of your desperate cries and his hungry growls, each stroke of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel his breath, hot and ragged, against your sweaty skin, the vibrations of his voice echoing through your core as he murmurs his enjoyment.

The world outside the room fades away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable passion that burns between you, the intensity of his mouth on your most sensitive spot making you feel as if you could shatter at any moment.

With a cry of pure ecstasy, you cum into his mouth, your body trembling violently as the most intense orgasm of your life takes over. Logan groans with satisfaction as he hungrily laps up your sweet release, his tongue never leaving your sensitive clit as he continues to pleasure you through the aftershocks.

His grip on your hips tightens, keeping you in place as he drinks from your well, savoring every drop of your pleasure. You're a mess of sensations, your legs shaking and your chest heaving with each ragged breath.

The room spins around you as the orgasm subsides, leaving you a trembling mess against the wall, clinging to Logan's shoulders for support. His eyes, filled with a feral hunger, meet yours as he pulls away, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With surprising gentleness, Logan pulls you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he lays you down. You're still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, your body feeling both sated and desperate for more. He asks, "Can you handle another round, darlin'?" His voice is deep and gruff, the hunger in his eyes undeniable.

You nod, your body already responding to the promise in his words. He kisses down your body, his teeth nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. When he reaches your thighs, he spreads them wide, his strong hands holding you open as if you were a delicate treasure he's about to claim.

His mouth finds your core again, his tongue sweeping over your folds, teasing and tasting you with a newfound enthusiasm. His kisses are feverish, his breath hot and demanding as he worships your body, his hands moving to grip your hips, keeping you in place for his pleasure.

Your legs wrap around his shoulders, urging him closer, as he dives back into the sweet oblivion of your desire. The sensation of his mouth on you is exquisite, sending waves of pleasure that make you arch off the bed.

His touch is both gentle and commanding, a perfect blend of rough and tender that sets your body alight with need. As he kisses and sucks, his thumb circles your clit, the dual sensations pushing you towards another shattering climax.

You can feel your muscles tightening around his tongue, the tension building with every touch, every flick of his skilled tongue. You moan his name, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself get lost in the feeling, your body aching for more of him, all of him.

Logan's growl of satisfaction vibrates through you, the sound of his hunger for you echoing through the room, driving you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

With a sudden jolt of overwhelming pleasure, you try to pull away, the sensations too intense for you to handle, but Logan's grip on your hips is unyielding. His mouth remains locked onto your core, his tongue working tirelessly, as if he can't get enough of your sweetness.

"Too much," you gasp, your body quivering uncontrollably under his relentless ministrations. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and filled with a primal need, and you see the hunger in his gaze, the animalistic desire to claim you completely.

He doesn't stop, though, instead his movements become more urgent, his tongue more insistent, as if he's trying to consume every part of you. You beg for mercy, but the only response you get is a deep, rumbling growl from his chest, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he continues to feast on you.

Your body arches off the bed, your legs tightening around his neck as the orgasm builds, a crescendo of pleasure that seems to have no end in sight. Logan's touch is like fire, burning through any shred of resistance you might have had, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him, desperate for release.

His name falls from your lips in a breathless chant, a plea for him to either stop or take you over the edge, but he shows no signs of relenting. You're lost in a sea of sensation, your mind hazy with need, as he continues to devour you, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of madness with every stroke of his tongue.

With a loud, desperate cry, your body shatters into a thousand pieces as you cum again, the intensity of the orgasm stealing the last of your breath. Logan's mouth remains sealed over your sex, his tongue continuing to swirl and flick with unrelenting fervor, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from your quivering form.

Your hips pull away from his face, but his strong hands keep you anchored, refusing to let you escape the heavenly torment he's bestowed upon you. As the waves of ecstasy begin to subside, his kisses become softer, more tender, his tongue lapping up the last drops of your climax.

He kisses a path up your stomach, your chest, and finally captures your mouth in a deep, claiming kiss, sharing the taste of your pleasure with you. Your legs fall apart, your body boneless and sated, as he rises over you, his eyes still alight with hunger and desire.

His erection strains against his pants, a silent testament to his own need, and you know, without a doubt, that this is only the beginning of a night that will leave you both bruised, exhausted, and utterly satisfied.

With a growl of pure need, Logan slides down his pants, his rock-hard erection springing free, the tip pressing into your trembling thigh as he shifts his attention to your breasts. His kisses become more urgent, his teeth grazing over your sensitive skin as he captures one nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing it into a taut peak.

You arch your back, a low moan escaping your lips as he switches to the other breast, his tongue swirling around the areola before his teeth catch the sensitive bud again. The sensation sends a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you wetter and more desperate for him.

His hands roam over your body, one cupping the fullness of your breast, his thumb flicking the nipple in time with his mouth, while the other slides down to stroke your clit, making your hips buck in response. The feeling of his tongue on your skin, his teeth tugging at your nipple, and his finger inside you is almost too much to bear, a symphony of pleasure that has you panting and writhing beneath him.

Your hands reach out to grip his shoulders, urging him closer, needing more of his touch, more of his warmth. His eyes never leave yours, the hunger in them only growing as he watches the effect he has on you, his own desire reflected in the dark depths of his gaze.

Logan's eyes never leave yours as he positions himself at your entrance, his breaths coming in harsh pants. The head of his erection nudges against your swollen clit, sending an electric jolt through your body. You gasp, your legs tightening around his waist as he presses his tip into your wetness, inch by torturous inch, stretching and filling you.

The sensation is intense, your clit still pulsing from the recent orgasm, making every movement feel amplified. His hips rock gently, his shaft sliding deeper until he's fully sheathed within you. You whimper at the fullness, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

His hands move to the back of your thighs, lifting you slightly, changing the angle and causing his cock to hit that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. "Oh, Logan," you moan, your voice a desperate plea for more as he starts to move, his hips sliding in a steady rhythm that matches the beating of your heart.

His movements are slow and deliberate, drawing out every sensation, making you feel as if you're going to combust from the inside out. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his growls of pleasure. His thrusts become more powerful, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, your body desperately trying to keep up with the intensity.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as he fucks you with a primal need that leaves you gasping for breath, your body a taut bow of desire. His eyes never leave your face, the connection between you palpable, a silent promise of more pleasure to come.

With a fierce snarl, Logan's hips press into yours, driving his entire length deep inside you with a power that steals the breath from your lungs. He pulls almost all the way out, the drag of his shaft against your sensitive walls making you cry out, before slamming back in, filling you completely.

His rhythm is punishing, each thrust a declaration of his desire, a promise of the climax that looms closer with every movement. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction building a delicious ache that centers in your core.

Each pound of his hips into yours feels like a brand, marking you as his, and you revel in the feeling of belonging, the intensity of his possession. The pressure builds, your muscles tightening around him, desperately clinging to the feeling of fullness as you edge closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

His grip on your thighs tightens, his strokes growing more forceful, the slap of his hips against yours a punctuation to the symphony of pleasure that surrounds you. Your nails dig into his back, leaving marks of your own, a silent testament to the power of your shared desire.

The world outside this room fades away, leaving only the two of you and the fierce, unbridled passion that consumes you both, as you climb higher and higher, racing towards the peak of pleasure that promises to shatter you completely.

As you both near the edge of release, Logan's movements become more erratic, his muscles tensing and releasing with each powerful thrust. His eyes blaze with a fiery passion that's mirrored in your own gaze, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled moans and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, a testament to the raw, unbridled desire that fuels your every movement. His grip on your thighs tightens, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he whispers, "Come for me, darlin'."

The words send a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the command in his voice. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in your stomach, threatening to explode at any moment. Logan's strokes become more demanding, his hips moving faster and harder, pushing you closer and closer to the brink. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure builds to an unbearable crescendo.

With a final, guttural growl, he slams into you, hitting that perfect spot deep within, and you detonate around him, your body convulsing in waves of ecstasy. His own orgasm follows, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he releases a roar of pure satisfaction, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

Together, you ride out the storm of pleasure, your hearts hammering in time with each other's, your bodies entwined in a passionate embrace that leaves you both trembling and gasping for air. And in that moment, there's no doubt in your mind that you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you, bound by a connection that transcends logic and reason, a bond forged in the heat of desire and the depths of your shared need.

As the intensity of your shared climax begins to ebb, your nails drag into his shoulders, leaving behind red marks that stand out against his tanned skin. Logan groans with satisfaction, his body still quivering with the aftershocks of his release. He pulls out of you with a final, lingering stroke, his cock still hard and glistening with your arousal.

He collapses against you, his heavy frame pinning you to the bed, nearly crushing you, his hot breath ghosting against your ear as he fights to regain his breath. The room is silent but for the harsh sounds of your mingled panting, your hearts thundering in a symphony of passion that slowly begins to settle into a steady rhythm. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, as if he can never get enough of the feel of your skin against his.

He rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. His kisses become gentle, peppering your neck and shoulder with affectionate pecks as he whispers, "Mine," his voice a gruff rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You nod, too exhausted to speak, but the truth of his words resonates deep within you. In this moment, you are irrevocably his, bound by a passion that seems to have no end.

As your breathing slows and your bodies cool, you know that this is just the start of a night filled with pleasure and discovery, a night where the lines between doctor and patient, between friend and lover, will be forever blurred.

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