#and in the end decides to rid of himself too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saatorus · 2 months ago

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golden — s . gojo x reader

synopsis — satoru gojo is your bestfriend and you are his. but sometimes, lines between friendship and something more seem to blur.

pairing — bestfriend! satoru x reader

word count — 10.6 k

warnings — making out, somewhat heavy petting, they take off each other's shirts but that's about it LOL, angst (not a sad ending though), reader feels unwanted at times.

Satoru Gojo.

How long have you known him? Your whole life, probably.

Scratch that. Not your whole life, but definitely the majority of it.

It started in preschool.

You were the quiet kid—the one who clung to the edges of the classroom, never quite fitting into the messy, chaotic whirlwind of children who seemed to make friends like it was the easiest thing in the world. You didn’t know how they did it—how they found each other in the noise, how they paired up so effortlessly, how they just knew where they belonged.

You, on the other hand, spent most of your time alone, stacking blocks in the corner, drawing quietly, or waiting for the teacher to tell you what to do next.

And then there was him.

Satoru Gojo, the loudest, brightest, most obnoxiously happy kid you’d ever met. He was the kind of child who ran instead of walked, who laughed at things no one else found funny, who always had a scrape on his knee but never seemed to care. He was larger than life, in a way that made your stomach twist—not quite jealousy, not quite admiration, just… confusion.

So when he plopped down next to you one day, completely uninvited, you weren’t sure what to do.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked, peering at the tiny house you were building out of wooden blocks.

You shrugged. “Building.”

“Cool,” he said, grinning. “Can I help?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want help. But before you could answer, he was already reaching for the blocks, stacking them in ways that made no sense.

“You’re ruining it,” you mumbled, frowning.

He blinked at you, then back at the house. “Oh.” And then, without missing a beat, he knocked it over entirely.

You gasped, horrified.

He just laughed. “Now we can build it again!”

You decided, in that exact moment, that you hated him.

But Satoru Gojo was persistent.

He started following you around—not in a creepy way, just in an annoying way. Every time you thought you’d shaken him off, he’d pop up again like a bad penny, grinning that ridiculous grin of his.

Eventually, you just… let him.

It was easier than trying to get rid of him.

And somewhere along the way, he became your first real friend.

Your moms met not long after.

It happened at pickup time, when Satoru ran straight past his usual waiting spot to grab your hand instead. “Can I go to their house?” he asked his mom, all wide eyes and uncontainable energy. “Please, please, please?”

Your mom looked vaguely alarmed, having not expected to suddenly be responsible for another child, but Satoru’s mom just laughed.

And that was that.

Your friendship expanded beyond the preschool walls, spilling into weekends and playdates. Satoru’s house became as familiar as your own, with its too-big windows and fancy furniture that he absolutely wasn’t supposed to jump on (but did anyway). In return, he practically lived at your place, showing up unannounced, eating snacks straight from your pantry, making himself at home in a way that should have been irritating but never really was.

By the time middle school rolled around, he was less of a friend and more of a permanent fixture in your life.

“Okay, but listen,” Satoru said one afternoon, sprawled across your bedroom floor, Switch in hand. “If you had to pick one Digimon partner, like one to be stuck with for the rest of your life, who would it be?”

You barely looked up from your homework. “I don’t know. Agumon?”

“Agumon?” he repeated, scandalized. “That’s so basic. It’s like saying your favorite Pokémon is Pikachu.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s literally the main character’s Digimon.”

“Exactly!” He threw his hands up. “No originality. None. Zero. I expected better from you.”

“You asked me,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d at least think about it.” He sighed, dramatically flopping onto his back. “I should’ve known. I’m best friends with a casual fan.”

“You should be grateful you have a best friend at all,” you shot back.

Satoru grinned, tilting his head toward you. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

At some point, he started wearing glasses. Not for fashion, not because he wanted to, but because years of staring at screens in the dark, playing Digimon and Pokémon and whatever else he was obsessed with at the time, had officially caught up to him.

“I’m blind,” he announced the day he got them, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely, totally blind.”

You snorted. “You’re, like, mildly nearsighted.”

“Same thing,” he said, already taking them off to examine them. “Do I look smarter with them?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Not really.”

“Rude.” He huffed, sliding them back on. “What about cooler?”

You threw a pillow at his face.

He laughed, catching it easily. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

—

Then came high school.

At first, nothing changed.

Satoru was still Satoru—loud, annoying, always in your space. He still showed up at your house unannounced, still texted you at odd hours about random nonsense, still sat next to you at lunch like it was a law of the universe. He was your best friend. Your person.

And for the first two years, you were inseparable.

There wasn’t a single moment where people saw one of you without the other. Satoru Gojo and you. You and Satoru Gojo. Always a pair. Whether it was cramming for exams together, getting kicked out of the arcade because he got too competitive, or spending Friday nights playing whatever old game he got obsessed with that month, he was your constant.

Until junior year.

It started small.

A casual comment in gym class about how fast he was. A joke from a teacher about how he should try out for the football team. A half-dare from some of the guys he barely knew.

And somehow, against all odds, Satoru Gojo became an athlete.

You didn’t think much of it at first. It was just another one of his phases, right? Like that time he swore he’d master speedrunning or decided he was going to learn five languages at once. But he was good—annoyingly good. Tall, fast, with ridiculous reflexes that made him impossible to catch on the field.

And people noticed.

By mid-season, he wasn’t just some new player—he was the star. The guy everyone knew, the guy who had a crowd around him in the hallways, the guy who got called out over the school speakers for game-winning plays.

The guy who no longer just belonged to you.

The first time you really felt it was when he showed up at your house one evening. That part was normal. He still did that, still made himself at home on your couch, still stole whatever snacks he wanted.

But something was different.

You were sprawled out on your bed, flipping through a book, when you glanced up and noticed.

“Where are your glasses?” you asked.

Satoru blinked, as if he had to think about it. “Oh. Right.” He shrugged, plopping down next to you. “They’re kind of a hazard in football, so I switched to contacts. Figured I’d just stick with them.”

You sat up, frowning. “But you hate contacts.”

He grinned, stretching lazily. “Not anymore.”

And just like that, something in your chest twisted.

It wasn’t just the glasses.

It was the way he stopped rambling about Digimon, the way he never asked if you wanted to rewatch old anime together anymore. It was the way his schedule started filling up with team hangouts and parties you weren’t invited to. It was the way people started looking at you differently when you were with him.

Because Satoru Gojo wasn’t just Satoru Gojo anymore.

He was Gojo.

Senior year was when it really started to hurt.

He still sat with you at lunch, still texted you silly memes at night, still acted like nothing had changed. But everything had.

He would often cancel on your invitations, his responses still typed in that absurd, unmistakable way of his—yet his excuses always seemed to follow a familiar pattern. It was always something urgent, something unavoidable: he had to rush off to practice, or there was a party he couldn’t miss, or someone needed his help and he simply couldn’t bring himself to say no. Each time, it felt like a rehearsed script, as though his priorities were perpetually elsewhere, leaving you to wonder if you’d ever truly make the cut.

Every time he plopped down next to you, people stared. Whispered.

“Why’s he sitting with her?”

“Shouldn't he sit with the rest of the team?”

“Is she, like, his childhood obligation or something?”

You weren’t an idiot. You heard it. You felt it.

And it made you snap.

“You don’t have to sit here, you know,” you muttered one day, keeping your eyes on your tray.

Satoru frowned. “What?”

“I said, you don’t have to sit here,” you repeated, sharper this time. “If you’d rather be with your actual friends—”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You clenched your jaw, hating how defensive he sounded. “Nothing. Forget it.”

He didn’t forget it.

You fought about it. About how he didn’t get it, about how easy everything was for him, about how he could walk into any room and belong while you felt like you had to justify existing.

“You act like I abandoned you,” he snapped, voice low and frustrated. “But I’m right here. I’ve always been here.”

And you hated that he was somewhat right.

So you patched things up. Not because you fully understood each other, but because you both wanted to. And by the time graduation rolled around, you could almost pretend things had gone back to the way they were.

But then came college.

And somehow, Satoru Gojo managed to be even more himself than ever.

Bigger. Louder. More impossible to ignore.

If high school had turned him into a star, then college made him a supernova.

He was everywhere—at parties, in clubs, on the field. Everyone knew him. Everyone wanted to be around him.

And somehow, despite it all, he still tried to keep you close.

“Come with me tonight,” he’d say, sending you an invite to some massive party. “It’ll be fun.”

You always said no.

At first, he laughed it off. But after a while, he started looking at you differently—like he noticed the way you avoided him now, the way you barely answered his texts, the way you pulled away whenever he tried to meet your eyes.

And one night, when he showed up outside your dorm after another party, half-drunk and grinning, you saw the exact moment that grin faltered.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Why would I be mad at you?” you replied, your tone lighter than you felt, as if you could brush the question aside with a casual shrug.

Satoru studied you intently, his glasses nowhere to be found, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it one too many times. His gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “Because you’re avoiding me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, maybe, or hurt.

You forced a laugh, the sound brittle and unconvincing. “I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Not you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your throat tightened. You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s just—” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to piece together the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for weeks. “You don’t need me anymore, Satoru. You have them. All your cool—I don’t know, jock and cheerleader friends, everyone else who likes you. You don’t have time for me now.”

He blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice rising slightly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. His hands gestured vaguely, as though trying to grasp the words you’d just thrown at him. “You think I’d just—replace you? Like it’s that easy? No, like seriously fucking explain to me what the absolute hell you mean?” He mutters out angrily, words slightly slurred.

The air between you felt heavy, charged with emotions neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, leaving only silence hanging in the space between you.

You let out a bitter laugh. “It means I’m tired, Satoru. Tired of feeling like a ghost when I’m with you. Tired of pretending I’m okay with being the weird friend you keep around out of habit.”

Satoru opened his mouth, then closed it.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it—hurt. Real, genuine hurt in his stupidly bright eyes.

“You think that’s what this is?” he said, voice quieter now. “Habit?”

You didn’t answer.

Because if you did, you might have to admit that you missed him. That you missed the late-night anime marathons, the dumb inside jokes, the way he used to act like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

But you weren’t sure if that version of him still existed.

And you definitely weren’t sure if you had the courage to find out.

Satoru stared at you for a long time, the weight of your words settling between you like a stone. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, couldn’t decipher the way his lips pressed into a thin line, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for something—but wasn’t sure if he should.

Then, after what felt like forever, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted, voice lower now, quieter, like he was afraid too many words would push you further away. “You’re acting like I left you behind, but I’m right here.”

You bit your lip. “You don’t see it.”

“Then make me see it,” he shot back, suddenly frustrated. “Because all I know is that one day we were fine, and the next, you started treating me like a stranger.”

That stung.

Because wasn’t that what he did first?

He wasn’t the one being looked at differently in high school when he sat next to you at lunch. He wasn’t the one feeling like a burden when you tagged along with him to something you thought was just going to be the two of you. He wasn’t the one realizing, little by little, that your best friend was outgrowing you.

But how could you even say that? How could you explain it in a way he’d understand?

“It’s not just one thing, Satoru,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… everything.”

Satoru exhaled sharply, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “That’s real specific.”

You rolled your eyes, the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

You hesitated. He looked serious, standing there under the dim glow of the dorm hallway lights, arms crossed, gaze steady. But what would it change? Telling him wouldn’t undo the years of growing distance, wouldn’t erase the fact that you felt like you didn’t fit in his world anymore.

Maybe it was better to let it go.

So you shook your head, stepping back toward your door. “It’s late. You should go.”

Satoru let out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fine,” he said, jaw tightening. “Run away, then. You’re good at that.”

That hurt more than it should have.

But you didn’t argue. You just stepped inside, closed the door, and pretended the ache in your chest wasn’t real.

It got worse after that.

You thought maybe that argument would clear the air—that he’d finally see why you had been keeping your distance. But if anything, it only made things weirder.

Satoru still texted you, but not as much. He still invited you to things, but there was something almost hesitant in the way he asked, like he was bracing for rejection. And when you turned him down (because of course you did), his replies became shorter, more clipped.

Then, one night, he stopped asking altogether.

You didn’t realize how much you had come to expect it—his name popping up on your phone, his easy confidence that somehow, eventually, you’d say yes. But when Friday night came and went without a text, something inside you twisted.

Maybe this was what you wanted. Maybe it was easier this way.

So why did it feel so awful?

A week later, you ran into him by accident.

Literally.

You were coming out of the campus library, arms full of books, when someone rounded the corner too fast and nearly tackled you.

“Oh, shit—sorry—”

You looked up, heart dropping to your stomach.

Satoru.

Your hands clenched around the books, pulse stuttering. It had only been a week, but he already looked different—like he’d fully settled into his role as that guy. Loose hoodie, messy hair, the faint scent of cologne and something vaguely alcoholic clinging to him.

You swallowed hard. “Hey.”

His expression flickered—just for a second. “Hey.”

It was awkward. Awkward. When had things ever been awkward between you?

You shifted your grip on your books. “Uh—sorry. Didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, no, my bad,” he cut in quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Silence stretched between you. Too long, too tense.

Then, suddenly, his eyes dropped to the stack in your arms. “Of course you’re carrying, like, ten books at once.”

It was such a Satoru thing to say that, for a second, you almost smiled.

Then his gaze flicked up to yours, something softer in his expression, and your breath hitched.

And then—

A voice called his name from across the quad. Some guy you didn’t know, waving him over. Satoru hesitated. Then, with a small exhale, he gave you a lopsided grin. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

He didn’t wait for a response before turning away.

And you stood there, watching him go, feeling like something important had just slipped through your fingers.

Days passed. Then a week. Then two.

And for the first time in years, Satoru Gojo wasn’t part of your life anymore.

No more texts. No more unannounced visits. No more standing at your dorm door at 2 AM, grinning like he belonged there.

You had wanted this, hadn’t you? You had wanted the space, the distance, the freedom to not be caught in his orbit.

But now, without him, everything just felt… quiet. You hated it.

You missed him.

—

It was months before you and Satoru spoke again.

At first, you kept waiting for him to text you, to pop up at your door with some stupid excuse, to send you a meme like nothing had happened. But days passed. Then weeks. Then months. And Satoru Gojo—your best friend since childhood—became just another person you saw in passing.

Sometimes, you spotted him across the quad, surrounded by his usual crowd. Sometimes, you caught glimpses of him at the library, laughing too loudly with friends who barely even acknowledged your existence.

And it hurt.

More than you wanted to admit, it hurt.

But you told yourself this was how things were meant to be. That he had moved on, and you needed to do the same. That whatever had existed between you belonged to another lifetime, one where you weren’t the quiet girl who spent her nights buried in books, and he wasn’t the golden boy who belonged to the whole damn world.

You thought you were doing fine. You thought you were getting used to it.

Until the professor announced lab partners.

The moment your name was called, a small, high-pitched voice cut through the classroom.

“Uh… who?”

Laughter rippled through the room. You felt your face go hot, every muscle in your body locking up as the girl—some blonde from Satoru’s usual group—looked around in exaggerated confusion.

It was humiliating.

Because she wasn’t just some random classmate. She was someone who had spent actual time with Satoru. Who had probably been to his dorm, who had probably sat next to him at parties, who had probably heard him talk about people in his life.

And she had no idea who you were.

You didn’t even dare look at Satoru. Didn’t want to see his reaction. Didn’t want to see whether he’d step in, whether he’d say anything—

But he didn’t.

He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t correct her either.

Didn’t turn to acknowledge you. Didn’t make some joke to brush past it. Didn’t do anything at all.

Just stared at the table like he was somewhere else entirely.

And that, somehow, was worse than anything.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral as you scribbled down the details of the assignment. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a big deal. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

—

Working with Satoru again was… weird.

Not just because of everything that had happened between you, but because neither of you seemed to know how to be around each other anymore.

Gone were the days of effortless conversation, of teasing remarks and stolen fries and arguments about Digimon evolutions. Now, everything felt stilted, careful, like you were two strangers trying to relearn the language of each other.

Sometimes, it almost felt normal.

Like when you sat across from each other in the library, bent over research notes, and he’d randomly hum the Sailor Moon theme song under his breath. Or when he muttered something stupid under his breath about the professor’s handwriting, and you nearly choked on your water holding back a laugh.

But then, inevitably, the moment would pass.

Because girls from his usual group would come over, acting like you weren’t even there, their voices too sweet as they draped themselves over the back of his chair.

“Satoru, are you coming to the party on Friday?”

“Satoru, when are you free? We should all hang out.”

And he’d always answer them. Always give some noncommittal shrug or a lazy smirk. But you could tell—even if no one else seemed to notice—that he wasn’t really there. That when he looked at them, he wasn’t listening.

And yet, he never told them to leave. Never told them that you were working. Never acknowledged you at all when they were around. So, after a while, you just stopped expecting him to.

And then, one day, you got sick.

Not just a little sick. Not just a sore throat or a cough you could push through. No, you were the kind of sick that made your whole body ache, that sent shivers down your spine no matter how many blankets you curled under.

But it was a project day. And despite everything, you still had responsibilities. So, begrudgingly, you shot Satoru a text.

Come to my dorm. I can’t go out today.

He didn’t reply right away. But twenty minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You barely managed to drag yourself over, your vision swimming slightly as you opened it.

And there he was.

Looking the same as always—messy white hair, sharp blue eyes, hoodie slung over his frame like he��d just rolled out of bed.

The only difference? The way his expression immediately dropped the second he saw you.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You look awful.”

You groaned, stepping aside to let him in. “Thanks for the confidence boost.” He kicked off his shoes, setting his bag down before eyeing you carefully. “Have you been drinking water? Eating enough? D’you eat somethin’ you weren’t meant to eat?”

You rolled your eyes. “How am I supposed to know, I just woke up sick as hell.”

Instead of a snarky remark, Satoru just sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, before you could protest, he was guiding you toward the bed, nudging you to sit.

“You’re not working like this,” he said firmly. “Lie down.”

“I’m fine—”

“Lie down.”

You hesitated.

This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the version of Satoru you had gotten used to in the past year. The one who was always a little distant, a little out of reach. This was… him.

The Satoru you had known since childhood. The one who always knew when you were exhausted, even when you swore you weren’t. The one who used to push his fries onto your plate when you were too stressed to eat.

The one who, for the first time in months, was looking at you like you were still his best friend. So, slowly, you lay back down.

Satoru exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll get you some tea or something. You have any?” You nodded weakly. He moved toward your desk, rummaging through your stash of instant tea packets like he had done it a million times before.

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was familiar.

Safe.

And even though you felt like death warmed over, for the first time in months, you didn’t feel so alone.

—

From that day on, something shifted.

It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t dramatic, but it was there—a quiet, almost imperceptible change in the way things were between you and Satoru. The library, once the default meeting spot for your project sessions, was suddenly off the table. He stopped suggesting it altogether, and at first, you didn’t think much of it. But then, one afternoon, he showed up at your dorm unannounced, arms loaded with snacks and a careless shrug when you stared at him, bewildered.

“Library’s too loud,” he said, brushing past you and stepping inside like he owned the place. “Figured we’d get more done here.”

You didn’t question it. Not then, and not a week later when you found yourself in his dorm instead, sitting cross-legged on his bed while he scrolled through research notes on his laptop.

“Library’s too crowded,” he explained that time, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

After that, it just became… routine. Your project meetings moved from the library to your dorms, back and forth, as if by some unspoken agreement. The shift was gradual, almost imperceptible, but it was there. You still weren’t quite friends again—not the way you used to be, back when everything was easy and uncomplicated. There was still a careful distance between you, an unspoken awareness of all the time that had been lost, all the moments that had slipped through your fingers. But things weren’t cold anymore. They weren’t distant.

Satoru filled the quiet moments with mindless chatter, the way he always had. He teased you about your typos, stole your pens when you weren’t looking, and groaned dramatically whenever you made him do too much reading. Slowly, bit by bit, the pieces of your friendship started falling back into place. Not completely. Not yet. But enough that sometimes, when the two of you were laughing over something stupid, it almost felt like the past year had never happened.

Then, one day, everything cracked open.

It was late—much later than usual—and the two of you were sitting in his dorm, textbooks and notebooks sprawled across his desk. You were both exhausted, the kind of tired that made your eyes burn and your thoughts sluggish. Satoru was absentmindedly flipping through one of your old notebooks when he suddenly snorted.

“Oh my God.”

You blinked up at him, too tired to muster more than a mumbled, “What?”

He turned the notebook toward you, pointing at a messy doodle in the margin. It was a Digimon—a rough, scribbled outline that barely resembled anything recognizable. But something about it made him grin, leaning back in his chair like he’d just uncovered a hidden treasure.

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “Feels like a whole different lifetime ago.”

And then, in a voice so casual, so familiar, he added—

“Remember when we made a whole ass PowerPoint ranking every Digimon evolution?”

That was it.

That was what broke you.

It was so stupid—just a random memory, an offhand remark. But the second he said it, something in your chest twisted violently. You clenched your jaw, swallowing hard, telling yourself not to be dramatic. But then your vision blurred, and suddenly, you were crying.

“Oh—oh shit.”

Satoru’s chair scraped against the floor as he shot up, eyes wide with panic. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

You barely managed to shake your head, your hands gripping your knees as you tried to steady yourself. But the tears kept coming, and then—through the hiccups, through the pathetic, trembling gasps—you broke.

You clenched your jaw, trying to hold it together, but the tears spilled over anyway. Your chest heaved as you choked out the words, “I miss you. I—God, Satoru, I miss you.”

His face went slack, his usual confidence faltering as he stared at you, stunned. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, like he was trying to process what you’d just said. Then his voice came out quiet, almost fragile. “What are you talking about? I’m right here.”

You shook your head, your hands gripping your knees so tightly your knuckles turned white. “No, you’re not. Not really. You’ve been… gone. For so long. And I—” Your voice broke, and you hated how weak you sounded, how raw and exposed you felt. “I don’t want to be without you anymore. I don’t—I don’t want you to hate me.”

Satoru’s breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw his composure crack. His eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to fight it, but a single tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, his voice trembling as he muttered, “You’re so fucking stupid. How could I ever hate you?”

You let out a shaky laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “I don’t know. You just—you stopped talking to me. You stopped needing me. And I thought… I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

He shook his head, his hands reaching out like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should. “I care. I care so much it’s stupid. I just—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to come back after everything. It felt like you were pushing me away.”

“You could’ve just— I don’t even know what to say,” you hiccuped, your voice barely audible. “You could’ve just… stayed. I don’t know— like yell at me, tell me that you care for me or something. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn about not speaking to you either, but god, maybe I just wanted you to like— tell me how much you needed me. Because it never felt like you did anymore.”

Satoru’s face crumpled, and he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping like the weight of everything had finally caught up to him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry for leaving you behind. I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t know how to be around you without feeling like I’d already ruined everything.”

You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears. “You didn’t ruin anything. I just… I needed you. And you weren’t there. And really, it was my fault too, for not communicating—”

He cuts you off, his own tears falling freely now, though he didn’t seem to care. “I know. But I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to fix it. I— I should’ve been there for you more often because God, life without you is just so horrible, and I’ve been so horrible— ”

“You’re fixing it now,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… don’t leave me again. Please.”

He let out a choked laugh, his hands finally reaching for you, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “I won’t,” he murmured into your hair. “I won’t. I promise.”

You buried your face in his shirt, your hands clutching the fabric as you cried. His body shook against yours, and you realized he was crying too—quietly, almost like he was trying to hide it, but you could feel the way his breath hitched, the way his hands trembled as they held you.

“I missed you too,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Every fucking day. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because the weight of everything—the months of silence, the distance, the ache of missing him—was finally crashing down on you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t a bad kind of crash. It was relief. It was the feeling of something broken finally starting to heal.

Satoru’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm despite the tears. “Not again. Not ever.”

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

It took a long time for the tears to stop, for the sobs to quiet into shaky breaths. But even when they did, neither of you moved. Satoru kept holding you, his arms tight around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. You felt like you were home.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red and puffy, but he was smiling—a small, tentative smile that made your chest ache in the best way. “You’re stuck with me now, like y’know, the annoying kid who’d follow you around as kids,” he said, his voice soft. “Just so you know.”

You laughed, the sound watery but genuine. “Good. Because I miss that Satoru, and I’m not letting you go again either.”

He grinned, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Deal.”

And just like that, something shifted. The distance between you closed, the cracks in your friendship slowly mending. It wasn’t perfect—not yet—but it was a start. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

—

After that night, Satoru made it a point to talk to you during class.

It was weird at first—uncomfortable, even. Because now, whenever he sat beside you, people stared. People whispered. But Satoru didn’t care. And after a while, neither did you.

Then, one day, it happened.

You were in the middle of a conversation when one of the girls from his usual group strolled up, her friends lingering just behind her.

“Dude,” she drawled, arms crossed. “We’re waiting for you.”

Satoru didn’t acknowledge her.

She huffed, looking at you for the first time.

“Who even are you?” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Silence.

Then—calmly, lazily—Satoru turned to her.

“Fuck off.”

Her expression twisted. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “We’re talking.”

You swore you saw steam coming out of her ears.

She spun on her heel, storming off in a flurry of designer fabric, and Satoru just turned back to you like nothing had happened.

You blinked at him, stunned. “That was… aggressive.”

He shrugged. “Don’t like her.”

You snorted. “You used to hang out with her all the time.”

“Yeah, well.” He gave you a pointed look. “I was an idiot.”

And maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the certainty in his voice, the way he leaned in just a little closer like this—this—was what mattered.

But for the first time in a long time, you felt something settle inside you. Something warm. Something steady. Something that told you, without a doubt—

Satoru Gojo wasn’t leaving you behind again.

—

It happened slowly.

At first, it was just the way things had been before. You and Satoru were best friends again—finally, properly—and you were making up for lost time.

You sat together in lectures. You ate together between classes. You spent hours holed up in each other’s dorms, either working in silence or complaining about whatever god-awful assignment was due next.

And it was good. It was easy.

But then—then—things started to shift.

It was subtle at first.

A hand brushing against yours for just a little too long. The warmth of his body pressed against yours in a too-crowded study session, his breath fanning over your ear as he leaned in, muttering something you could barely focus on.

The way his eyes lingered when he thought you weren’t looking.

The way yours lingered, too.

—

It was a Friday night, and you were at Satoru’s dorm, lying on his bed while he sat at his desk, spinning lazily in his chair.

“I don’t wanna study,” he whined, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s do something fun.”

You turned a page in your book, unimpressed. “And what exactly do you define as ‘fun’?”

“Dunno,” he mused. “Wanna go for a drive?”

You sighed. “Satoru, it’s almost midnight.”

“And?” He grinned, kicking his feet up onto his desk. “C’mon, live a little.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. “You just don’t want to do your readings.”

“Obviously.” He snorted. “But also, I feel like getting snacks.”

You hesitated, torn.

Then, finally—

“Fine.”

His eyes lit up. “Knew you’d cave.”

You rolled your eyes, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

—

It was raining by the time you got to the convenience store.

Not heavily—just a light drizzle, enough to make the streets shimmer under the streetlights.

Satoru grabbed half the store’s supply of junk food while you rolled your eyes, paying for your single bottle of tea. Outside, the air was cool, the pavement slick beneath your feet.

“I’m driving,” you said as he dug through his bag of snacks.

“Nah.” He grinned, tossing a chip into his mouth. “I got this.”

You gave him a look. “You almost crashed last time.”

He scoffed. “That was a red light, not a crash.”

“You ran the red light.”

“Meow.”

You cringe, snatching the keys from his pocket. “Oh my god. Absolutely not.”

Satoru laughed but let you.

And for some reason, that made your stomach flip.

—

Back at your dorm, Satoru made himself at home—because of course he did.

He sprawled across your bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other mindlessly tossing a snack in the air and catching it with his mouth.

“You should be paying me rent at this point,” you muttered, shutting the door behind you.

“I would,” he said, grinning, “but I’m broke.”

You huffed, settling onto the bed beside him. “What, your trust fund isn’t enough?”

He smirked. “Nah, gotta save that for important things.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Like overpriced sunglasses.”

“Exactly.”

You shook your head, reaching for the remote.

And then—a shift.

Satoru turned his head to look at you, and when you met his gaze, something in his expression softened.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath hitched.

His fingers lingered at your temple, just for a moment. His touch was warm, featherlight.

You exhaled, heartbeat stuttering.

And then—just as quickly—he pulled back, flopping onto his back with a dramatic groan.

“What should we watch?” he asked, stretching like nothing had happened.

You exhaled.

Your chest felt tight.

“Uh.” You cleared your throat. “Dunno.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

—

But the tension didn’t. If anything, it only got worse.

It was in the way his hand brushed your waist when he reached past you.

The way he sat just a little too close, his knee knocking against yours under the desk.

The way his fingers trailed across your wrist when he grabbed something from you, his touch slow, deliberate.

And—God—it was in the way he looked at you.

Like you were something he couldn’t quite figure out.

Like he was waiting for something.

Like he wanted something.

And maybe—just maybe—so did you.

—

By the time second year rolled around, you weren’t sure what you and Satoru were anymore. Still best friends, technically. Still Satoru and you. But there was something else, too.

Something unspoken.

Something fragile and complicated and new. And neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

—

The weather had started to change, the air cooler as autumn crept in. You could feel it in your bones—when the days shortened, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows. It made everything seem a little softer, like the world had gone quiet just to give you and Satoru a chance to breathe, to figure things out.

You were both sitting in the small, somewhat neglected corner of the university park, surrounded by towering trees with golden leaves fluttering to the ground. You were both on the grass, sitting close enough that your shoulders brushed whenever you shifted. It was the kind of quiet afternoon you could’ve stayed in forever, and maybe that was why you weren’t quite ready to let it end.

Satoru stretched, his arms reaching high above his head. “Ugh, my back’s killing me. Who knew studying could be so physically demanding?” He rolled his shoulders, groaning dramatically.

You shot him a sidelong glance, your lips curling into a smile despite yourself. “I think that’s just you, Satoru. You’re a professional at making everything harder than it is.”

He shot you a grin, a smug little thing, like he knew you couldn’t resist teasing him back. “Oh, please, I make things look easy. It's a gift.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the great Satoru Gojo.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, catching the teasing tone in your voice. “That’s right. You should be honored to sit next to greatness.” He nudged your shoulder with his, the warmth of his body spilling into yours. The touch was light but undeniable. Familiar.

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I don’t know if I’d call you ‘great’ when you still lose to me in Mario Kart every time.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d just struck a mortal wound. “You—I’m just going easy on you because I don’t want you to feel bad. I’m a gentleman like that.”

You could hear the playful teasing in his voice, but the way he looked at you—his eyes crinkling at the corners with that boyish grin—felt like something deeper.

“I don’t need you to go easy on me,” you teased, leaning in just a bit too much, your voice soft. “I’m pretty good on my own, thanks.”

That was when you noticed it—the way his eyes flickered for a second, his lips curving down ever so slightly before he caught himself. His gaze held yours for a second longer than normal, and for the first time in a while, you both just stayed there. Not a word. No jokes or banter. Just the space between you thick with unspoken things.

Satoru was the first to look away, clearing his throat. “Anyway, want me to go grab us something from that little café over there? You could use some food if you’re gonna keep up with me.”

You hesitated. He’s back to that again. The Satoru who was always making sure you were fed, always thinking ahead for both of you, even when he had to act like nothing was different.

But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, not now. Not when everything felt right.

“No, I’m good,” you said softly, shaking your head. “But... thanks.”

Satoru studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, before he dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “I swear, you’re impossible.” But even as he said it, his hand reached out—just a quick pat of his large hand atop yours. The briefest of contact, and for a moment, the world paused around you.

The warmth of his hand lingered even after it was gone, and you could feel your chest tightening, your pulse picking up. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.

And for the rest of the afternoon, you stayed like that. Silent. Comfortable in the space between you, letting the quiet be enough. But you both knew it wasn’t just the park that made the air heavy—it was everything unsaid that clung to it.

Eventually, the sun began to dip low on the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the grass. You sighed, looking up at Satoru. “We should probably get back soon. It’s getting late.”

He glanced at his phone, then at you, and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” He paused. “Hey, you want to walk with me to my dorm? I’m not ready to head back alone yet.”

It wasn’t even a question, not really. But you could feel his eyes on you, like he was waiting for your answer to matter just as much as the offer itself.

You nodded, and the tension between you both lifted just a little as you both stood, stretching out the stiffness in your legs. “Sure, let’s go.”

As you and Satoru walked side by side, the night air crisp and cool against your skin, the silence between you felt heavier than before. It wasn’t uncomfortable—quite the opposite. It was charged, like something waiting to tip over the edge. Every step you took together seemed to draw you closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body beside you, even in the chill of the evening.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, his hand brushed against yours again. This time, neither of you pulled away. The tips of his fingers grazed your knuckles—light, tentative. Like he was testing the waters. Like he was waiting for you to stop him.

But you didn’t.

You swallowed, trying to focus on the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath your feet rather than the way your skin tingled where he touched you. It was such a small thing, barely even a touch, but it sent your heart skittering against your ribs. And when you finally dared to glance up at him, Satoru was already looking at you, his lips curled into something between amusement and something softer, something unreadable.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Satoru tilted his head, his silver-white hair catching in the glow of the streetlights. “Nothing.”

A lie.

Because there was something—so much something—wrapped up in the way his eyes flickered over you, lingering for just a second too long on your lips before he looked ahead again.

The air between you felt tight, humming with something unsaid.

You were nearing his dorm now, the pathway growing quieter, fewer students passing by. It was just the two of you, footsteps slowing, the night pressing in close.

Satoru exhaled a slow breath, and then—without thinking, or maybe because he had been thinking about it too much—he reached out again. This time, his fingers laced through yours, not just a brush, not just an accident. A deliberate touch, a quiet declaration.

Your breath caught, and you felt him squeeze—just slightly, just enough.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low, like he wasn’t sure he should be asking.

You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah. You?”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Dunno,” he said, squeezing your fingers again. “You’re kind of distracting.”

Your stomach flipped, heat crawling up your neck. “Oh, I’m distracting? That’s rich, coming from you.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound warm, teasing. “No, I mean it.” He stopped walking, tugging you gently by the hand so you turned to face him. “You ever notice how quiet things get when it’s just us?”

You blinked, your throat tightening. “Satoru—”

His free hand lifted, his fingertips barely skimming your jaw. He wasn’t quite touching, just there, like he was still giving you room to pull away. Like he wasn’t sure if he should close the space between you.

And God, you wanted him to.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. It would be so easy. Just one step closer. Just one little push, and—

Satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, his hand falling away, his fingers untangling from yours. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Never mind,” he muttered, laughing under his breath like he was scolding himself. “Forget I said anything.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides, the absence of his touch making your skin feel cold.

“No,” you said, firmer than you expected. “I don’t want to.”

His head snapped up, eyes wide, startled. “You don’t?”

You took a breath, steeling yourself. “No.”

Satoru stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a low chuckle, he shook his head. “You really are impossible.”

And then, before you could overthink it, before you could talk yourself out of it—you stepped forward, pressing your palm against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his hoodie. His breath hitched, his body going still under your touch.

The silence stretched again, thick and unyielding.

“Say it,” you whispered.

His hands hovered at your sides, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Say what?”

You looked up at him, unflinching. “Whatever it is you’re holding back.”

Satoru exhaled, a sharp, unsteady thing. His hands finally settled on your waist, hesitant at first—then firmer, more certain. His fingers pressed into your hips, grounding himself in the feel of you.

And then, his voice—low, raw, real.

“I don’t want to be just your best friend anymore.”

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The words hung between you, heavy and dangerous and everything.

Then, Satoru leaned in, his nose just barely brushing yours, his lips hovering so close. His breath was warm, and when he spoke again, it was barely a whisper.

“I want more.”

And then, finally—finally—you closed the space between you.

The kiss wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t shy. It was hungry, desperate, like the both of you had been waiting too long to do this, like neither of you wanted to waste another second. His lips crashed against yours, and you gasped against his mouth as he backed you up against the door of his dorm, hands gripping your waist tighter like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, feeling the heat of him seep into you. His body pressed against yours, and the air between you turned thick with something intoxicating, something impossible to stop now that it had started. The small, breathless noises you made against his mouth only seemed to push him further, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt, thumbs brushing over your bare skin, warm and firm and so much.

The door behind you dug into your back, and for a fleeting moment, a thought broke through the haze—what if someone sees us?

As if he could read your mind, Satoru groaned against your lips, impatient, and without breaking the kiss, he reached behind you, fumbling for the handle. The second the door swung open, he practically pulled you inside with him, kicking it shut before his lips were on yours again, urgent, demanding.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before he was guiding you backwards, hands never leaving your body, mouth never straying too far from yours. You stumbled together, his grip firm, his kisses growing deeper, hotter, more insistent as you moved through the dark room.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your pulse was a wild, unsteady thing, your skin burning under his touch.

His mouth was warm and soft against yours, kissing your lips like he was afraid you were gonna disappear. Using his strength to his advantage, he manhandled you into his lap on the bed, while he sat up against the headboard. His tongue prodded into your mouth experimentally, and when you obliged him entry, he swirled it around with yours before licking into the cavern of your mouth, tasting you as if you were one of those sickeningly sweet delicacies he enjoyed.

His hands roamed from your waist to your hips, to your thighs before stopping hesitantly over your ass, to which you dragged them down until he was squeezing and kneading the supple flesh with his hands, mouth slotted against yours.

You pulled back slightly, gasping for air, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. But Satoru didn’t let you go far. His hands were firm on your ass, keeping you anchored to him as his lips trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair.

His mouth moved lower, pressing hot, lingering kisses along the column of your neck. Each touch of his lips against your skin felt like fire, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your throat. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but gentle, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. One hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer, while the other cupped the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Satoru,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but he didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, he captured your lips again in a desperate, hungry kiss that left you dizzy. His tongue slid against yours, and you melted into him, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as the world around you seemed to fade away.

His hands roamed your body with a kind of urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. One moment they were in your hair, the next sliding down your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, and you tugged at it impatiently, wanting—needing—to feel his skin against yours.

He broke the kiss long enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands found the hem of your top, and you lifted your arms without hesitation, letting him pull it off and discard it somewhere on the floor. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat building inside you.

Satoru’s hands were everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, skimming over your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast under your bra. You arched into him, chasing the friction, desperate for more.

His mouth found yours again, urgent and unrelenting, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate stroke that left you breathless. He kissed you like he wanted to consume you, like he didn’t care about anything else but this—you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your breaths mingling, heavy and uneven. Every kiss, every touch, every press of his hands left you dizzy, lost in the haze of heat and want.

And when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his lips swollen from kissing, you swore you’d never seen him look at anything the way he was looking at you now.

Like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Both of your chests were heaving, your own shirt flung on the bed somewhere and Satoru’s completely off and forgotten somewhere on the floor. His hands were still settled on your waist, thumbs tracing slow circles over your heated skin. His head lolled back against the couch, a lazy, satisfied grin stretching across his lips.

“Damn,” he exhaled, voice slightly hoarse. “I think I saw the pearly gates for a second there.”

You scoffed, giving his shoulder a weak shove, while reaching for your shirt. “Dramatic.”

He only laughed, the sound bright and breathless. “I mean it, nerd. Who knew you had it in you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, fingers curling against his shoulders. “Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

His grin widened, but he obeyed—for all of two seconds. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he waggled his brows. “You know, we should really make this a regular thing. Like, for health purposes. I feel like I just did an entire cardio session.”

You smacked his arm. “Oh my god.”

He gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his bare chest. “See? That was uncalled for. Here I am, trying to improve my well-being, and you’re—”

“Satoru.” You fixed him with a look, but the corners of your lips twitched. He was impossible.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your fingertips. “Okay, okay, I’ll be good.” His grip on your waist tightened slightly, as if to ground himself—or maybe to keep you exactly where you were. “But… just so we’re clear, this isn’t, like, a one-time thing, right?”

You blinked, his sudden shift in tone catching you off guard. His usual playfulness was still there, but there was something else beneath it—something genuine, something careful.

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

His gaze flickered over your face, searching. “I mean…” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at you again. “I was serious, you know. About liking you. More than a friend.”

Your breath hitched. “You were?”

Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Obviously. You think I just let anyone straddle me and—”

You smacked his chest. “Can you not ruin the moment?”

He caught your wrist before you could pull away, lacing his fingers through yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, quieter. “I was serious,” he repeated. “I am serious.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I like you, and I want to do this properly.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. “Properly?”

He nodded, suddenly looking almost shy. “Like… an actual date. Multiple dates. Boyfriend privileges. All that cute shit.” His lips curled into a lopsided grin. “So, what do you say?”

Your stomach flipped, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re actually asking me out?”

Satoru huffed a laugh. “Well, yeah. What, you thought I’d just kiss you senseless and leave you hanging?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think. “I dunno. You are kind of a menace.”

His brows shot up. “A menace?”

You giggled, and he groaned, tightening his grip on your waist. “Okay, that’s it, you’re legally required to say yes now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile stretching across your lips. “Yes, Satoru. I’ll go out with you.”

His face lit up, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, arms wrapping fully around your waist. He shifted, rolling you onto the bed so he was hovering over you, his weight pressed deliciously against yours.

“Guess that makes you my girlfriend now,” he murmured against your lips. “Which means—” His fingers trailed down your side, teasing. “—I get unlimited make-out privileges.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

“Would you like it if I said sex privileges too?”

“I’m gonna seriously hurt you—“

Satoru only smirked before cutting you off with another kiss.

—

A few months into dating Satoru, you realised three things.

One, he had absolutely no concept of personal space. If he was near you, he was touching you—whether it was throwing an arm over your shoulder, draping himself across your lap, or trapping you against a wall just to say hi like a complete menace.

Two, he was shamelessly, overwhelmingly, ridiculously obsessed with you. If he wasn’t texting you, he was calling. If he wasn’t calling, he was physically finding you. And if he couldn’t find you, he’d send a stupidly dramatic voice memo about how he was “perishing” without you.

And three, he was always teasing. Always testing his limits, pushing your buttons, flashing that damn smug grin whenever you got flustered.

Like right now.

“I think you should stay over.”

You blinked up at him from where you were curled up on his bed, wearing one of his hoodies that was way too big for you. “I am staying over.”

Satoru huffed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “No, I mean, like, actually stay over. Move in.”

You snorted. “Satoru.”

“What? I’m serious.” He nudged your knee with his own. “Just think about it. That trust fund has enough money— actually maybe more— for an apartment near college. We basically live together anyway.”

“Not even close.”

He scoffed. “Oh, please. You leave clothes here, you steal my hoodies—”

“They’re practically dresses on me.”

“—and you’re here more than you’re at your own place.”

“That’s a lie.”

Satoru gasped dramatically. “Oh, so I’m imagining you in my bed every night?”

Your face warmed, but you shot him a glare. “You’re exaggerating.”

He only grinned, scooting closer until your noses nearly brushed. “You love sleeping here,” he drawled. “You love my bed, you love my cuddles, you love this d—”

You smacked a hand over his mouth, but it barely muffled his muffled laughter.

“I swear to God, Satoru—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist and flipped you onto your back, caging you beneath him in one smooth motion. His weight was just enough to make your breath hitch, his silver lashes casting shadows over sharp blue eyes.

“You love me,” he finished, his voice dipping lower, teasing, smug.

Your stomach flipped.

“…Debatable,” you muttered.

Satoru barked out a laugh. “Debatable?” He leaned down, nuzzling into your neck as his hands slid under his hoodie, warm palms settling against your waist. “You’re literally in my bed wearing my clothes right now.”

Your breath stuttered as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear.

“Admit it,” he murmured. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping his bare shoulders. “Satoru—”

“I mean, I don’t blame you.” He grinned against your skin, pressing another kiss, this one lower. “I am insanely hot.”

You groaned. “You ruin everything.”

Satoru laughed, bright and breathless, before rolling over, pulling you fully on top of him with ease. His hands never left your waist, fingertips dancing over your skin in slow, lazy patterns.

Then he suddenly reached behind him, grabbed something off the nightstand, and slid his glasses onto his face.

You blinked. “I thought you preferred contacts now?”

Satoru hummed, adjusting them slightly as he gazed up at you. “Yeah, but I dunno…” His lips curled into a small, lopsided smile. “You always liked me better in these, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched slightly. He wasn’t wrong—there was something about the way his glasses framed his face, how they softened him just a little, made him look more like the Satoru you’d known before he became everyone else’s.

“…You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered.

His grin widened. “And yet, you’re still staring.”

You scoffed, reaching up to pluck them off his face, but he caught your wrist, tugging you down until your noses brushed.

“Admit it,” he murmured. “You like me better like this.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

“I like you anyway,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Something flickered in his eyes—something soft, something warm—before his grin turned teasing again. “Good,” he said, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. “Because I was gonna keep you here all night either way.”

You barely managed to mutter, “You’re so weird,” before he cut you off with another kiss.

i don't like this work at ALL lol but tbh i wrote this because i want to be wanted UGH hdhjsdh

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classyrbf · 18 days ago

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you and bf!choso who’ve decided that you can’t fuck each other for a week. It was a stupid challenge both of you made up while drunk and the loser who breaks first has to do all the house chores for a month. You thought it was a huge joke, but you were oh so wrong. He’d push you away at any sort of intimacy, even a hug. You could tell it was making him break. Just a slight south on his shoulder made him jumpy. He wasn’t handling as well as he thought he would. It was funny to see him losing his mind, whining about not being able to touch or kiss you. “You did this to yourself, Cho.” You smiled. “You can still touch and kiss me, we just can’t…have sex.” You shrugged.

Choso plopped his head into the pillow. “That’s the point! If I do any of those things, all I can imagine is fucking you.” His muffled words come through the pillow. And though he has been getting the worst end of the stick, you’ve also been missing your man…a little too much. You sneakily undress yourself, climbing into bed while he’s face down, your hands running up and down his bare back, completely unaware of your malicious intent.

“Come on, baby. As long as you don’t put it in, we’ll win.” You try so hard to break him, but you know how tenacious he is. He shakes his head, covering his ears to rid himself of your sultry voice.

“I will not listen to you devil woman. You cannot persuade me.” He’s completely lying because he’s hard right now and trying so hard to distract his mind, but it always leads back to you.

“No? Not even if I do this?” You grab one of his hands, placing it on your bare chest. His hand freezes when he feels your warm skin, taking a second to recognize what he’s touching. It slightly moves, his thumb running over your hardened nipple. “I’m bored, Cho! I miss you, baby. Please, please—” He quickly pushes you back on the bed, his body hovering you. His eyes hurriedly scan your naked body, taking in every inch of you.

“Baby, no,” he breathes. “You can’t—god, fuck. Why are you like this? You know I can’t resist you.” He says above a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. But when he feels your hands run down his abs and into his sweats, his eyes spring open to see that wicked smile on your face. “Fine, fine , fine.” He quickly pulls his sweats off, tossing them to the floor, his cock already throbbing. “Fuck, you’re crazy…I love it.”

“I know you do,” you giggle, slowly jerking him off. “If you just do…this,” you rub his cock along your folds, his tip nudging against your clit, “and go slow, we’ll be fine.” You bite down on your bottom lip. He lets out a shaky breath, moving his hips as his cock glides up and down your pussy, gathering slick and smearing it. “There you go, baby. Good job.” You praise.

He gulps, everything in him just wants to be inside you. He can feel your warmth, your wetness, how badly you need him. He needs you just as much. He doesn’t know why he’s so determined to win this challenge, he could forfeit right now just to get a feel of your pussy. He feels like it’s been forever, when it’s only been five days. Is he losing his mind? Why does this feel so good already? Everything about you is tempting him. You little whimpers and moans, your perky nipples that are begging to be sucked, you plump lips ready to be kissed. He can’t do it. He pulls away before he makes a mistake. “I-I can’t do it, baby.” His breaths are heavy, heart pounding against his ribcage. “We cant.” But he wants to so bad, he wants to keep going.

“You’re just gonna leave me all alone like this? Hm?” You blink your lashes up at him, reaching your hand down to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. His eyes follow your hand, fully fixated.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. He’s so hard it hurts. Without even thinking, his cock is back on your pussy, his tip massaging your clit. “Can’t believe we’re doing this.” He looks up at you and sees just how much you’re enjoying this, that smile on your face and that glint in your eye. “You’re so wet, baby,” he huffs, your pussy squelching with each movement.

He spreads your legs further, slapping his cock against your cunt earning a small gasp from you before grinding against you again. He hates how good this feels, how easily he’s ready to cum. “Feels so good,” you moan, tossing your head into the plush comforter. He continues to rub his cock against your clit, sensitive from the five days of no sex. You pull at your taut nipples, adding another form of stimulation to help drive you to your orgasm. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.” You suck in a breath, your eyes rolling back when he starts moving faster. “Just don’t put it inside, baby. I know you want to.” You shake your head at him, brows furrowing in pleasure.

He stares back at you, a teary look in his eyes as he fights so hard. You can tell he’s close too, his chest rapidly moving up and down with each whimpering breath, and his flexed abs. “Fuck, I want it so bad. Wanna cum inside you so fucking bad,” he moans softly. “I’m gonna cum—mmmph! Baby, cum with me, please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Ah, ah, shit!” His body shakes as thick ropes of cum coat your pussy, covering every inch. Both of your moans mixed as you both entered your highs, cumming just seconds after him. He continues to rub his cock through your folds, smearing his cum in each crevice but inside.

“Did such a good job holding back, Cho. Mmm, come here.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a heated kiss. His hands ghosted over your skin, gripping at the flesh of your waist. “That felt so good.” You lazily smile at him.

“I was losing my goddamn mind. I still am.” His eyes flutter shut. “And I’m still hard,” he groans in annoyance. “This is your fault.”

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I just wanted to have a bit of fun.” You peck his lips as he falls back onto the bed. “I missed you.” You climb on top of him.

“I missed you too, but we have to behave. Only two days.” You grips your waist, tracing circles on your skin.

“But if we both win, who does the chores?” You questioned.

Choso sat in silence for a moment. “That’s actually a good question. I guess both of us?” He shrugged.

“And if we both lose?” You say in a playful voice, leaning down to press kisses against his neck. “Doesn’t that mean we both do the chores still? So, technically we can have sex…”

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sv3t1ana · 2 months ago

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SYNOPSIS ᯓ Choso Kamo is a waste of your time. A temp intern with no real skills, constantly fumbling through tasks he barely understood. You've tried to get rid of him, but the agency won't take him back until his contract is done. You've been treating him like the extra he is, deciding that if he's going to waste your time, he might as well make himself useful.

PAIRING ᯓ Intern! Choso x Executive fem! Reader

WARNINGS ᯓ dubcon, office AU, degrading (really not that bad tho), he calls reader "ma'am," reader is mean to him (lmao sorry), reader is a workaholic, choso sucks at his job, power dynamics, choso has tattoos, obedience, use of "good boy," oral (m and f receiving), size kink, fingering (f receiving), punishment, unprotected p i v sex, begging, sub choso x dom reader?

WORD COUNT ᯓ 3.6k

SERIES ᯓ GOJO ⋮ GETO ⋮ CHOSO

Choso Kamo.

A lowly intern hired into this company, not based on merit, just placed here through a temp agency you signed a contract with a few years ago.

It’s gotten to the point where you tried to get rid of him, calling the agency yourself. That’s right, you took precious time out of your day to get rid of him.

“So, you’re telling me he still has a month here?”

“If you don’t have reasonable grounds to fire him, then yes, he will stay for an additional four weeks.”

You sighed, throwing your head back and tossing your feet up on your mahogany desk.

This intern was going to be the death of you. Seriously. Last week you tasked him with some very simple data visualizations, and he returned a pie chart.

A pie chart.

A single pie chart.

“Kamo, what the fuck is this?”

Choso was completely serious, sitting in the chair across from your desk in your private, sleek office. “It’s a visualization of last quarter’s trends.”

You glanced down, almost jaw-slack in disbelief. There was a big rainbow pie chart, indicating… last quarter’s trends? “Kamo,” you said, voice flat, “this is an abomination.”

You didn’t hold back tearing it apart in front of his face, tossing it on the ground at his feet while you silently pointed toward the door, motioning him to leave. It was sad actually, just a small part of your heart aching at the clueless loser here only because he could pass a drug test. It’s clear he tried, but somehow the dataset became absolutely vile, even after you provided a cleaned one.

It was so fucked up, seriously. As an executive you had meetings on meetings, you barely had time to eat let alone find ways to get Choso fired. Most of your days began and ended sipping caffeine, you even worked on the weekends. And to have this inferior being who can barely copy a few papers ruin your day was just the icing on the cake.

He’d already been here for a month, a temporary contract-to-hire position, (he clearly wasn’t getting hired) and you’ve just been having him run your errands for you.

“I need you to get this dry cleaned.”

“Go to my car and bring me the box of files.”

“Put my mug in the kitchen.”

He was almost like a pet, barely good enough to be named slave as you just ran out the rest of his time here with trivial duties.

It was a hell of a Thursday afternoon, pausing your busy schedule and setting your Microsoft Teams to offline as you waited in your office, blinds closed while you rested your head in your hand, slowly drifting off to sleep until-

BANG!

“Ma’am, I have your lunch,” Choso stood at the doorway dripping wet as he panted out of breath.

The sound of the door slamming open jolted you awake, your heart lurching against your ribs. He stood there, shoulders rising and falling, his shirt soaked through, clinging to his skin like it was painted on.

You blinked, trying to focus on something, anything other than the way his pecs pressed against the damp fabric, the slow drip of rainwater from his hair rolling down the side of his neck.

Absolutely not.

You forced your gaze to his face. He wasn’t even looking at you, too busy trying to catch his breath, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every inhale.

“...Apologies for the late time,” he finally muttered, stepping forward to set the bag of food on your desk.

You stared at him, but truly it wasn’t purposeful, your brain was just lagging, refusing to process anything except fuck, he’s actually kind of-

No. Not happening.

You cleared your throat, reaching for the food like it was going to save you. “You look disgusting,” you muttered, barely glancing up.

He huffed a small laugh, shaking out his sleeves in your pristine office before stepping away, rainwater leaving faint specks on your office floor. He didn’t say anything else. Just turned and walked out.

And yet, you didn’t stop staring until the door clicked shut behind him.

God, at least he’s pretty, too bad he’s useless.

That weekend you didn’t think about him once. Really, you didn’t.

But still, you were restless.

That weekend, you caught yourself checking your phone too often, feeling agitated over things that had nothing to do with work. You opened your email just to have something to do, only to find a message from Choso.

RE: Revised Visualizations

Attached are the updated charts per your feedback. Let me know if further revisions are needed.

Oh.

You clicked the attachment, expecting the same disaster as before.

And, well, of course it still sucked, but it was less awful. He was improving.

You set your laptop aside and rubbed your temples. Maybe you just needed a distraction.

It has been years since you last had one.

Work truly consumed the entirety of you, it was the only thing on your mind. Your laundry constantly piled up, dishes overflowing your sink often because you worked too damn hard.

It’s been so long since you had a boyfriend, not that you were keeping track but it’s been about 2 years, 6 months, and 24 days since you broke up with him. He was too bland, too safe, not exciting enough for you, but at least he was a distraction.

Hm, maybe you found yourself bored again, wanting to feel the adrenaline course your veins with a new love interest, but you just sat alone in your office the following week, sighing as you poked your food with a fork. You had no time for a relationship.

That next week you found your office a complete mess, last week the stakeholders visited, and you had endless meetings, constantly having to prove yourself in your position as a woman to these disgusting old men who only wanted money, it was draining.

Piles of paper scattered your floor, you had no idea which filing cabinet they belonged to. Your desk a mess, too, crowded with too many coffee mugs and random office supplies, where did this shit even originate from?

So, you invited Choso to clean your mess for you. Tasking him to organize the scattered papers covering almost your entire office floor. You watched as he sat on his knees, sleeves rolled up revealing toned forearms littered with tattoos.

“All of these papers are titled about the first quarter’s finances.”

Choso’s voice was steady as he handed you the file, but you barely registered the words.

Because his hands.

Shit.

You didn’t mean to look, didn’t mean to notice how thick and long his fingers were, the way the veins ran up his arms, disappearing beneath the rolled-up sleeves.

You swallowed. Taking the file a little too quickly, clicking your pen aggressively.

He sat on his knees, sorting through the mess you’d left him with, hair falling loose from his buns. Sharp jawline. The slow bob of his throat when he swallowed. The slight furrow in his brow as he focused.

You had to mentally will yourself to tear your eyes away, flipping through the file like your life depended on it. “You probably gave me the wrong one,” you muttered.

He exhaled, running a hand through his bangs and pushing them back for just a second, just long enough for you to notice his dark eyes, furrowed brows, the light sheen of sweat clinging to his temples.

You clicked your pen again, harder this time.

This was just nothing, nothing at all.

You were beginning to get frustrated, really frustrated. Because what the hell is wrong with you?

It’s not just some passing thought or fleeting distraction that can be shaken off with a splash of cold water. It lingered in your mind, the parts of your mind that should be occupied with financial reports and quarterly projections. Every time you saw him, some unwelcome thought wormed its way into your brain, like the way he had a ridiculous devotion to completing the most mundane tasks you assigned him. It’s infuriating, really, because how could you, as an executive, someone that clawed your way to the top of this company, be distracted by the likes of him?

Choso Kamo. A temp. A lowly intern who struggled inputting a SUM function in Excel. There’s about three million YouTube tutorials for that, by the way. This was supposed to be his last week here.

It’s not like you’ve never dealt with useless men before, your job is filled with them. Old, crusty men in ill-fitted suits who pretended you weren’t their intellectual superior. But at least they didn’t invade your mind like this.

And worse? He was so obedient, like some helpless thing always awaiting your instructions. He always called you ma’am, whether out of genuine respect or blind adherence to authority, you didn’t know.

Maybe that’s why, as you sat in your office, hands clenched into fists against your desk, you decide.

If you’re going to suffer through the remaining time of his employment, you might as well make it worth your while.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, rolling your shoulders as you stood from your chair, exiting your office.

“Kamo, my office. Now.”

No explanation. No context. Just a simple demand.

You waited, hearing a hesitant knock at first, light and unsure. It’s the same way he approaches everything, carefully like he’s afraid of stepping out of line.

“Come in.”

Choso enters, standing awkwardly just past the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him. “You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Close the door.”

He does, albeit clumsily, his fingers fumbling with the handle for a second too long. You watch in silence as he turns his back toward you, shoulders stiff and posture straight as if he’s bracing for reprimand.

Instead of speaking immediately you stood again, walking toward your large office windows that overlooks the rest of the department floor. The blinds are drawn halfway up, letting just enough visibility in for others to see. That won’t do.

One by one, you lowered them, the only noise in the room being the mechanical whir of the blinds. Choso shifted nervously on his feet.

“You’ve been here for almost two months now,” you mused, tone even as you turn to face him fully. “Longer than I would’ve liked, but still.”

Choso nods, saying nothing.

You step closer, crossing the room slow and deliberately. “And despite your many, many failures, you’ve somehow managed to be useful in one way.”

His brows knit together slightly, but he remains silent, waiting.

You tilted your head as if to observe him. His hands are still clasped in front of him, his stance rigid, like he didn’t know whether to be nervous or grateful.

Good.

That mean’s he’ll listen.

You extend a hand, fingers wrapping around the nape of his neck as your thumb traced his jawline.

“You want to be useful, don’t you, Kamo?” Your voice was smooth, measured.

He nods immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”

You dropped your head slightly, “you have…” you sigh, feigning disappointment, “such a bad habit of wasting my time.”

He flinches, subtly, but you saw it.

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am, I-”

You tut, cutting him off. “But I’ve decided something.”

He falls silent again, waiting.

“If you insist on wasting my time, then I’ll run out the rest of yours however I see fit.”

“I don’t understand…” his voice was quiet, more careful.

You laughed softly, reaching behind him to flick the lock on the door. The click is soft but heavy, something final, “you don’t need to.”

You see the way his breath catches. How his fingers tighten into his palm like he’s resisting the urge to fidget. How his pupils dilate just slightly as you eye his figure up and down, like you were a predator sizing up prey.

And he is prey, nervous, uncertain, and pliant.

“You always listen so well,” you muse, talking slow steps to sit back at your desk. “Always so eager to do exactly as I say.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes.

You smile.

“Then be a good boy, Kamo.”

He shudders.

You motion him to your side of the desk. “Take a seat.”

He did so nervously, not expecting you to snap at the ground petitioning him to kneel before you.

“This is your first task, make me cum in 3 minutes or you’re fired.”

Though, this was an objectively easy task for him, you were aroused last night even thinking about it, no idea the state of your cunt currently.

You watched as he sat on his knees before you, inching yourself closer to the edge of your chair while you spread your legs, showcasing your naked center under your skirt.

You could almost hear the thumps of his heart, “aww, don’t be shy, Kamo. You’re running out the clock!” You say playfully.

He nervously looked around him, swallowing hard before licking his lips. His hands traveled up your legs, gripping your thighs to spread you even wider.

You leaned back in your chair, and it was almost as if he attacked you with his tongue like his job depended on it. Because, well, it did.

Inhaling through his nose, he used the flat of his tongue to draw a long, slow stroke along your folds while you exhaled loudly. Quickly, he lapped at you, dipping in your entrance with his tongue before he drew circles with the tip of it on your clit.

You couldn’t help but grip his hair as he worked you, inserting two dept fingers and curling them ever-so-slightly while the lower half of his face was buried in you. And you pulled him closer, tighter to you as you felt him begin to sweat profusely.

It was so cute, really, was he doing this because he wanted to? Or that he didn’t want to lose his job? Surely, he knew he wouldn’t get hired after his contract ran out, right?

“Mmm, one minute, Kamo,” you were breathless, having gone so long without the touch of the opposite sex, either that or Choso finally found something he was good at.

You reached your climax fast, crying out when he quickened his pace, your slick slit gushing out in the palm of his hand while he fucked you through it, gripping the back of his head and practically suffocating him between your thighs.

You gripped his forehead and forcefully shoved him out of you on the edge of overstimulation, leaving him on his hands and knees catching his breath.

You looked over at the digital clock on your computer, “congratulations, you passed!”

He looked up at you, a glossy film of sweat covering his face, or rather, a mix of his sweat and your arousal.

“Stand up.”

He obeyed.

“Look at you,” you tilted your head, eyeing the huge bulge that tented his slacks. “You’re all excited just from eating me out, hm?”

You groped his clothed cock, feeling how big it was under your hands. “Are you ready for your second task?”

You didn’t even give him time to respond before you undid his belt, unzipping his pants and pulling them down boxers included, his thick length popping out.

“If you cum, I’ll punish you.” You began stroking his length, using two hands to jerk him as you spit, using your thumb to spread his pre around his sensitive, engorged tip.

He nearly buckled at the knees, breath quickening and sweat dripping from his temples as he held back. “F-fuck…”

And you gave him no mercy, wetting your lips and pressing light kisses at his tip, squeezing his base with one hand as the other massaged his balls.

He was hunched over, using your desk as purchase while he watched from above as you took only the tip in your warm mouth, spitting on it to use as more lubricant for your hand that tugged him.

You let him out of your mouth slowly, “you look so pathetic,” you mused. “All fucked-out when all I did was lick your tip.”

You watched as his mouth dropped open, using both hands squeezing him tight, jerking him and letting his tip rest on your tongue.

It didn’t take long for him to cum, body convulsing as he struggled to maintain balance, painting your face and tongue with white, ruining your makeup and your tastebuds.

You sat still as he came down from his high, still fully erect in your hands. “You failed.” You said flatly.

He looked at you almost in shock, still out of breath.

“You can leave now,” you started rummaging through your drawers for tissues, wipes, anything to get rid of the horrible artwork left on your face. “Oh, see me in my office first thing tomorrow, for your punishment, of course.”

He didn’t say a word as he took a tissue from you, cleaning himself up before stuffing his still-hard length back in his pants and returning to his desk for the rest of the day.

It was the next day when he entered your office, you noticed the slight bulge in his pants already.

Oh, how faithful he was for you.

You sat on your desk, legs crossed and a bored expression across your face.

Choso averted his gaze, “ma’am, I’m ready to face my punishment.”

It looked like you just fired the man, as if he had a wife and kids at home and you just fired him before the Christmas bonus came in.

“Today you’re going to fuck me.” You said it so blatantly, just putting it out there in the air.

It simmered for a minute, Choso nervously looking around the room to see the blinds barely open. If someone wanted to peak in and see, they would.

“I-I don’t have any condoms,” he checked his pockets like a maniac.

“Just do your best,” you waved your hand, beckoning him to come closer.

His hands traveled your figure, squeezing your breasts over your tight top, pressing kisses to your neck when you throw your head back, his hands landing on your hips.

“Tell me how you want it,” he said, breathless and polite, yet seemingly more eager than yesterday.

All you did was spread your legs, revealing your bare center to him once again.

He began deftly unzipping his pants, bringing his solid length out at the sight of your glistening cunt. He put a hand on your lower back, face too close to yours as he leaned you back, positioning his tip at your entrance.

That’s when you locked your ankles behind his back, immediately stuffing yourself with him. You tried not to cry out too loudly, not even all of him could fit. It sure has been a couple years since you last hooked up with someone, the effects of it having a toll on your body.

You were so tight around him, walls struggling to even pulse around his length, struggling to adjust to his size.

He grunted as he began thrusting, brows pinched tightly as you seemed to clench around him, pulling him back in every time he tried to pull out.

Your pussy dripping for him, the sounds of it squishing, squelching in attempt to take him all as a slow, languid pace began.

All you did in return was grip his shoulders, squeeze your legs tighter to keep him close.

“You feel… so good,” he breathed out between thrusts, “fuck, I-I’m at my limit,” his voice was breaking, stuttering as he was engulfed in your warmth, squeezing him so tight that he was about to cum not even five minutes in.

“Mmh, Kamo, if you… get me pregnant,” you said between breaths. “You’re fired,” voice frail as he only fucked deeper and deeper with each rut of his hips, the only sounds in the room being breathless gasps for air and slapping skin, desk shaking beneath you.

You just squeezed your legs tighter, not giving him the chance to pull out as his hands fumbled in desperate attempt to unlock your legs behind him.

“G-god, I’m cumming,” he grunted, voice low as his grip on your waist sure to leave a few marks by tomorrow.

You felt yourself being filled up with him, so hot and sticky inside in the entrance to your womb, it brought on your own climax.

You lay almost lifeless on your desk as his body collapsed on yours, a pitiful look on his face as he stood fully, about to take himself out your entrance when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, bringing your lips to his in a heated kiss.

You two sharing whiny moans as he kissed back with the same passion, the world around you stopping as you tasted his morning coffee, humming into each others mouths.

He broke away only to apologize, plead for one more try. “Please,” he was still out of breath, voice hoarse. “I’ll be good next time, I swear.”

You stifled a laugh at the sight of him looking so unprofessional, hair a mess and clothes all loose, your hand coming up to hide the smirk tugging at your lips. The letter sat on your desk, taunting him. You could practically feel the anxiety radiating off him as he stared at it.

Without saying a word, you motioned toward the paper. The offer a permanent position as your personal assistant.

“Do you want it?” you asked, your voice low but laced with amusement.

He just smiled like a kid in a candy aisle, smashing his lips to yours.

1K notes · View notes

nekomuse · 9 days ago

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Salesman Danny

My brain did that thing where it just says "Hey wouldn't this be funny?"

There was a knock on the door. The room fell silent, nobody knocked on this door. People either entered because they could, or were summoned and then let in.

Ra's, slightly more intrigued than annoyed, told the person to enter.

The door opened, in came a tall man with a rather big box pulled behind him.

"Hello, thank you for having me!" The man glanced at the lazarus pits and slightly crinkled his nose before turning back to Ra's.

"It's good I came now, before it's too late and your pool of ectoplasm gets more corrupted. In this spirit, may I present you the Fenton Ectoplasm Filter 5.0! For all your filtering needs! If you buy the Fenton Ectoplasm Filter 5.0 subscription we will even come by to change the filter container each quarter." He pulled out what looked like a big pool filter, with added boxes, the boxes had green lines and Fenton Ectoplasm Filter 5.0 was painted over the side above the highest line.

"I could give you a demonstration, however with how contaminated your ectoplasm pool is it will take a while to fully filter it." Ra's decided to just let the man talk, giving him a nod. He watched as the filter was placed to the edge of the lazarus pool, half submerged before a button was pressed and a low humm was heard.

Lazarus water was pulled into the filter and after a minute what appeared to be lighter colored lazarus water flowed out from the other side.

"The filter can be mounted to the side like it is now, or it can float around with the added floater. If children use your ectoplasm pool I would recomend the mounted version to protect both the filter and the child from accidental damage. We do give out a 20 year warranty with every Fenton Ectoplasm Filter 5.0, we would give out longer warranties but in case of a newer and improved filter being invented in the next ten years it is reccomended to upgrade rather then repair!"

The man stood up again, letting the filter push out the rest of the lazarus water before wiping it with a cloth that seemed to also be Fenton branded. He walked over to Ra's, opening one of the boxes on the filter to show a slime-like substance that had a dark, near black, green color.

"As you can see your ectoplasm pool is very contaminated, as such I would reccomend a monthly filter clear instead of quarterly, don't worry about the contamination itself, we have a contract with the Infinite Realms and the Far Frozen to fully recycle it!"

"Recycle?" Ra's eyed the man, maybe this filter would get rid of the problem of the less and less effective pits.

"Yes! A small part will be used for research for better filtration systems, a rather big part will be used to test new medicines against corruption in Ghosts and whatever can not be used will be put into the cleansing sprout in the Infinte Realms to make sure nobody gets corrupted by accident!" He clapped his hands after he put the filter back into his box.

"If you want I can leave a pamphlet with you for other inventions and services Fenton Works offers for Liminals and Ecto Entities! We do also have a website for better overview! I would reccomend you the Fenton Ecto Cleansing Shots to get rid of the contamination in your own ecto, it works wonders and can be injected if you would rather not drink it." He opened the pamphlet and showed a small vial with light green lazarus water, calm. Next to it were two injectors, one manual and one automatic.

Ra's took the pamphlet, calmly looking through it. Two older generations of Fenton Ectoplasm Filters were in it, as well as a few other things to cleanse ecto, some circle that advertises as a floating device, as well as three generations of Fenton Thermos at the end. Those were advertised as both an ecto holding device as well as a container for mean spirited Ecto Entities.

"You sell all of this?" He looked at the man again, aside from being even taller than Ra's himself he looked rather unassuming.

"Yes! There is an order label at the end as well, we deliver per Portal so there are transportation costs listed but we do always deliver on time! Our website had more services as well, now would you like to purchase the Fenton Ectoplasm Filter 5.0 with subscription?" Ra's looked back into the pamphlet, the filter was expensive, the subscription as well, but it wasn't money he couldn't easily spend.

And if it did turn out this filter would get rid of his problems it was money very well spend.

"I just have to fill out this little form here?" The man seemed to jump towards him with a wide smile, showing fangs and a bit too many teeth.

"Yes! If you would just cross off what you want to purchase I'll take the order with me now and you'll be guaranteed delivery and installation tomorrow! Please show proof of payment upon delivery for no delays."

Damian stared at the lazarus pool, it was calm and a lighter color than usual, the only difference in surroundings was the lowly humming filter at the edge. He looked towards his grandfather while holding his hurt arm.

"Do go on Damian." So he did, the lazarus pit he knew to be bubbling was now calm like a lake. He felt the difference when he stepped in, it wasn't like the water tried to pull him under. His arm healed faster than it ever did before. His mother smiled, his grandfather looked pleased.

"It was worth investing into Fenton Works, genius inventors, their son is around your age Talia."

"Mother already has father, grandfather!" Damian protested as he climbed out of the pool.

"Yes of course, Damian. How is your newest aquisition doing dear daughter?"

"Jason is doing fine, he seems to take well to the online therapist you found for him." Ra's looked content as he thought about the website he had visited after Danny had sold him the filter.

Truly a masterpiece of a business. The front and center their inventions, a side for cyber security and programs, a shop for plants and plantcare services, as well as a therapist. Fenton Works was a marvel he gladly invested in. And if that meant he would get early access to their inventions? Well, he did like the new shield around his bases.

#dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #salesman!danny #fenton works #ra's al ghul #lazarus pits are ectoplasm #danny sells filters and other inventions #sam and tucker come to work for the fentons #good parents jack and maddie fenton #ra's al ghul is a lot more chill with no contamination #ra's is a liminal #good?Ra's al ghul

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whatifitis · 5 months ago

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♡ You Make Me Crazier - LN 4 ♡

Summary: this is based off this request! Lando spends most of the night playing Tarkov with Max and ends up keeping his gf awake for hours. so guess who's in a bad mood in the morning while the other is just vibing 😀

WC: 1781

CW: fluff, lando being loud (NOT IN THAT WAY PERVS), pillow tossing

Finally, the end of the season has come and the peace can begin. Lando and yourself had joined the team in celebration of Mclaren winning the constructors’. But Lando decided to leave the party quite early as he’d wanted to play some Tarkov with Max. You didn’t argue, you were pretty exhausted from such an eventful day, you were excited to hop into bed and get some much needed rest while Lando played some games.

The two of you had arrived back in your hotel room and Lando quickly pressed a kiss to your lips before letting you know he was going to play Tarkov immediately. You watched him race to the desk with his laptop. You didn’t mind him playing video games, you knew it did him some good. Tarkov was sort of a safe place for him to forget about the real world a bit and you were grateful that he had something like that. Although, you’re not sure how he finds that game peaceful as it is one of the most stressful games you know of. It’s not like Animal Crossing where you just talk to villagers and hunt and gather.

You got ready for bed, taking a nice shower to get rid of the smell from being out all day and partying. You think there was a bit of rose water still in your hair. Taking your time, you smile as you hear Lando’s laughter from the main room. It’s rare to hear it nowadays.

Once you’re ready for bed, you walk over to Lando and tap him on the shoulder, “Love, I’m going to sleep now. Don’t stay up late, we have to be at the track early tomorrow for testing. And don’t be too loud, I wanna sleep a decent amount and I don’t want another noise complaint from the hotel.” you tease.

“Alright, darling. I’ll try and keep it down and I won’t be long. Goodnight.” he says as he softly kisses you before returning to his gaming session.

You got settled into bed and closed your eyes, ready to drift into a peaceful sleep. But the universe decided you weren’t going to sleep yet as Lando could not, for the life of him, keep it down. One second he was laughing his head off and the next he was doing some sort of accent that was a mix of German and Bulgarian?

Slightly opening your eyes, you peer up at him and you silently scold him for being too noisy. You grab a small pillow off the bed and toss it in his direction, watching as it bounces off his back a bit. You can hear as he whispers “Guys, I think I fucked up.” before removing his headphones and turning to look at you, “I’m sorry, love. I’ll keep it down now, swear.”

With that statement, you flop back down and sink into the bed. Thinking you’ve successfully gotten him to quiet down, until you hear him nearly wheezing from something Max said. This went on for another few hours, each minute passing you got more annoyed. But you didn’t want to say anything because you knew that these moments were hard for Lando to get and you knew he needed this time a lot. He needed to spend time with his friends and enjoy himself. He deserved it.

So there you were, eyes dry as Oscar Piastri’s humor, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, waiting for Lando to log off for the night. You look at the clock and it was already 2 am. Your alarm was set for 7:30 am so that you could get ready and maybe eat before heading to the track. You cursed the universe and time difference, questioning what you did to deserve 5 hours of sleep.

Finally, you heard Lando tell Max that he was done for the night and that he was logging off.

Praise the lord.

Lando shut his laptop and quietly got up from his seat, turning to see you still awake and on your phone.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“Are you for real?” you blankly stare at him.

“What?”

“You were still loud, Lan. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me to shut up? More than once? You know I’m not a very good listener.” he jokes.

“I know. But you love being able to play Tarkov and stuff with Max and them. I didn’t want to stop you from doing that.”

“Oh, baby. Next time smack me over the head. I don’t like that I kept you up for so long.” he says, walking to sit by you on the bed.

“It’s okay, Lan. Seriously. I can still get about 5 hours of sleep.”

“That’s absolute rubbish. Why don’t you sleep in? You can meet me on the track later or you can spend the day relaxing.”

“Nah. I wanna go with you and see the car. I also wanna mock Zak cause I know he’s gonna be hungover as fuck.” you laugh.

“Fine. But I’ll make sure you get some Celsius tomorrow, even though they don’t sponsor Mclaren! Monster does. Just make sure to cover the can if there’s cameras.”

“Thanks. Now shut up so I can sleep.” you say, rolling to sleep on your side.

“Alright, we’ll sleep now. Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

-=+=-

It was indeed not a goodnight. You woke up to your alarm blaring loudly in your ear. Your eyes felt as if they were glued shut, you couldn’t open them to turn off your alarm. After a few attempts of trying to find your phone with your eyes closed, you reached over to Lando and shoved him, “Lando, turn it off. If it keeps ringing, I’m gonna kick both you and the phone into a wall!”

“Damn, someone’s already in a bad mood.” Lando mutters as he reaches across your body to grab your phone and mute it.

Finally, some peace and quiet. That was, until Lando’s own alarm started going off. You were already off your rocker and his alarm sent you off the edge. He was still hovering over you and setting your phone back down so you end up “accidentally” tossing him off the bed with your eyes shut. All you heard was the thud that came from his body hitting the floor.

Lando was so thrown off. He quickly stood up with his hands on his hips as he stared down at you. “Okay, I was gonna let you off for slapping me awake and making me turn off your alarm. But that was rude! You just tossed me off the bed. Not cool, babe.”

“Your fault for keeping me up for so long. Now I’ve had about 5 hours of sleep and you’re already on my nerves.”

“Since I’m so generous, I’ll let you sleep 10 more minutes. If you don’t wake up, I’ll be rolling you off the bed.” With that, he softly kisses your head and goes and gets ready for the day.

Lando had taken a shower and gotten dressed, so it was time to awaken the beast, aka you.

He quietly walked over to your sleeping figure and sat next to you. Gently, he places a hand on your back and slowly rubs it, letting you know it had been 15 minutes and that it was time for you to wake up. He was met with an annoyed groan and a swatting away of his hand.

“Okay, wake up. If you don’t get up now, I’ll make sure all the Celsius and coffee are hidden from you today.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” you side eye him.

“Oh I would.” He smiles cheekily.

“Piss off.” you, hitting him with a pillow, causing him to dramatically flop onto the floor.

“Damn, you make me fall all the time. I’m so unbelievably in love with you.” he says, trying to flash you a cheeky smile but you were not having it. You got out of bed and locked yourself in the backroom so you could get ready for the day.

After about 4 minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door. Through muffled sounds, you could hear your boyfriend begging to be let in, “Baby, can you let me in please. I feel so lonely and bored. I want to hug you, please. Let me in, please. Let me innn, let me innnnnnn.”

As much as he was pissing you off, you loved him too much to leave him out there alone. Plus, you were sure he was going to break something, a bone, if he’s left unsupervised for too long. Opening the door, you watched as Lando slid down the door and onto the floor. He was leaning on the door with all his weight so he didn’t land gracefully.

“Oh would you look at that? I’ve fallen for you, again!” he laughs, still you’re not having it.

You go back to doing your makeup in the mirror. You’re focused on your eyeliner when you feel something, Lando, grab your ankles. He pulls himself closer and wraps himself around your legs.

“Koala mode. Oscah mode. Mark Webbah mode.”

“Off.” you try to shake him off.

“Not until you love me again.”

“I still love you, somehow. Get off.” you try and shake him off again.

“Please. Please. PLEEEAAASSSEE” he squeals.

“Lan! Up.”

Almost as if he were a soldier being commanded, he jumped up to his feet.

“I’m sorry, babe. Really, I am. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” he says, hugging you from behind and planting soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, “I shouldn’t have stayed up for so long and yelled so much. I’ll be better, I promise. Please, forgive me.” he’s gone all soft now, truly afraid he’s messed up.

You turn in his arms to face him, “Lan, listen to me, yeah? As much as your late night gaming can annoy me, I wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s a sense of peace I feel whenever I get to hear you talk and laugh. People would claw for pieces to get that type of peace. So don’t worry. I still love you and will continue loving you. Even if it means less sleep. You still owe me a Celsius though.” you smile at him.

His heart feels like it’s surrounded by butterflies. He loved hearing how much you love him and he’s relieved that you aren’t too mad at him.

He softly connects your lips with his. He only feels happy and safe when he’s with you. So he thanks god everyday for you. He also thanks god for the fact that you can be bribed with Celsius.

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landosjpg · 1 year ago

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morning runs | ln

the one where your boyfriend finds you fast asleep in your hotel bed when he returns from his morning run.

lando norrix x fem!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: smut MINORS DNI!!!!, porn without plot, somnophilia, p in v, unprotected sex (as always, take care please), slight praise

note: those pictures of him running around melbourne with his shirt off have sent me into a spiral and they're the only thing i could think about for the past two days. i could not help myself.

no matter how many times you travelled long distances, you still weren't used to it; jet lag always kicked your ass every time you went to a race on the other side of the world with lando, messing up your sleeping schedule to the point it ended up knocking you out for the vast majority of the day.

you were trying your best to adapt to the time change, but it always took you a few days to get it right. this year, lando had decided that morning runs were the way to beat jet lag.

he had asked you to join a few times, promising it would be helpful, but the drowsiness made it impossible for you to climb out of bed that early and be productive. that's why he had left all by himself early in the morning, tucking you in and planting a soft kiss on your forehead before walking out the hotel room.

he came back only a few hours later, cheeks flushed and a thin layer of sweat covering his chest, tank top in hand. when he walked into your shared room, he found you were still in bed, in the same position he had left you earlier, sheets sprawled out barely covering your body now.

he softly smiled at the sight before him, the dim light that entered the room from the blinds tempting him to get back in bed with you. he would. righter after taking a shower, he promised himself.

however, he walked to where you were, smiling at your sleepy expression.

"i love you," he mumbled, leaning down to peck your slightly parted lips. he raised his eyebrows when he heard a small whimper leave your throat and you shifted around a little, his eyes scanning your half-naked body.

you were only weating one of his shirts. not that it was something you never did before, but something about tour drowsy state was drawing him in. he sat right beside you on the mattress, trying not to woke you up and his fingers slowly reached for your legs, stroking your bare sking tenderly with the tip of his fingers.

you sighed softly at his warm touch, stretching your body and your shirt sliding up, letting him have a look at your underwear. he moved his hand up, up, up, until his fingertips brushed against the hem of your panties. as if it was muscle memory, your legs slowly spread open for him.

and fuck, was it tempting.

it wouldn't be the first time you woke up to his fingers buried deep inside you or his head between your legs, but he knew this time you were too tired. and he would have stood up and taken a shower if you hadn't whimpered his name in your sleep the second he withdrew his hand from your core. the sweet sound that fell from your lips made him smile, fingers slowly going back to pull your underwear to the side so he could get a proper look at you.

his smirk grew wider at the sight of how wet you were, and when you stirred the second he softly pressed his thumb against your clit, he knew he couldn't just leave you yet. lazily, he got rid of his own clothes, discarding them on the floor and hovered over your body, pulling your shirt up to your hips gently, still not wanting to disturb your sleep.

"look so pretty like this, baby," he mumbled before leaning down to kiss your cheek as he slid his already hard cock between your folds, slowly pushing inside of you only a few seconds later. a low groan escaped his throat as you easily took all of him; the fact that you were so ready for him, even in your unaware state, making him smile once more.

he stilled his body as he bottomed out for a few seconds, his eyes taking in your sweet expression. he brushed a strand of your hair back as he started rolling his hips slowly, his breath getting heavier as you hummed in your sleep.

the groan he let out right next to your ear as you unconciously clenched around him woke you up, making your body squirm in confussion under him.

"s'me, baby..." he slurred, still fucking you slowly and gently. "it's just me, don't worry."

you softly whimpered when you heard your boyfriend's voice and felt his weight on you, chest pressed against yours.

"lando..." the moan that left your lips was low, and you lazily wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close. your eyes fluttered open only to find out he was looking right back at you. through half-lidded eyes, you could see the slight flush of his cheeks, a chuckle leaving your lips before you closed them again.

"you're doing so good," he whispered, keeping his thrusts gentle, not wanting to take you out of your sleepy state. "my pretty, pretty baby," he added, bumping his nose on yours to kiss your lips before hiding his face in the crook of your neck and spreading little kisses all over your skin.

the build up was slow, whispered praises and sighs being the only sound filling the room that turned into low whimpers as soon as you felt your toes curling, your pussy tightening around your boyfriend's cock, stealing a string of curses from his lips when you felt him filling you up.

after a few seconds, he slowly rolled the two of you on the mattress, your body now on top of his with him still buried inside of you.

"go back to sleep, baby," he murmured, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips and pulling the bedsheets over your bodies again, his arms holding you close to his chest, keeping you warm and comfortable.

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris blurb #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 smut

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yoyomomiko · 6 months ago

Note

WHAT ARE UR HEADCANONS 4 DAISUKE X READER??????

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader

Warnings: a lil cringe, maybe some cursing, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, ENGLISH isn't my first language!!

(A/N): OMG I LOVE DAISUKE😍😍 ANYWAYS THIS IS KINDA SHORT AND RUSHED BECAUSE I WAS EXCITED TO WRITE THIS I'M SO SORRY👉👈 -> m.list

★CRUSHING/CONFESSION

Hear me out, you fell first he fell harder.

I am very confident that at first he didn't even realize he himself had a crush on you... Like, he wanted to make you laugh more than he wanted to to the others, he always wanted to help you and be there for you... So, he pieced two and two together, and figured out that he actually was in love with you.

If he were to tell someone (probably not) it would OFCCC be our nice old man Swansea☺️

You see, Daisuke is very... Uhm, an idiot, so he won't understand when you're flirting with him. That's just him, he's too dense. You have to speak up, or else he won't pick up.

He always cracks jokes around you just to try and make you laugh😀

But like, it's so obvious he likes you

He's following you like a lost puppy, eager to please you in ANY way.

He's crushing on you so hard...

You kinda notice it since he just helps you with everything, offering help with your chores or just anything in general.

HE THINKS HE'S HIDING IT SOOO WELL BUT IN REALITY AT LEAST SOMEBODY CAUGHT UP TO IT (probably Swansea duh)

Let's say he's the one to confess first...

He would do it on accident for SURE. Do what you will with that information, let your imagination get ahead of you😍 (I'm actually lazy that's why I didn't write it but yeah whatever sue ME)

So then, he realizes what he said and then you also confess and BOOM, he's all over you. Good luck trying to get rid of him (who tf would do that🤨)

★DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

This man will go show you off the moment you two have an established relationship (unless you don't wanna)

RANTS TO SWANSEA ABOUT YOU

No but fr Swansea's probably tired of hearing him babble about you, he seriously had to force him to shut up just for a small moment of peace. BUT he secretly likes the fact that Daisuke is happy so like🤭

Daisuke is a really energetic guy so I feel like if you match his vibe he's never gonna let you go

LISTEN TO MEEE, he loves both physical affection AND words of affirmation, he's big on BOTH.

If he could, he would hold your hand forever, NEVER would he let go of you. He wants to hold you, close, for as long as possible.

If you decide at some point to sleep in the same bed, you will get cuddles every single night.

Big spoon or little spoon, he doesn't care. Just TOUCH him, in ANY way, he doesn't care and doesn't mind just do it!!

OMG PRAISE HIM

He always searches for your compliments, just PRAISE HIM please, tell him you're proud of him or something IDKKKK

"Did I do good?" "I'm doing great, right?"

UGH if there's something he loves most about you (he would kiss every inch of your body but whatevs) it's definetly your laugh.

Okay, maybe it's the way you praise him at the end of each day.

Okay, no, MAYBE it's the way you play with his hair while he slowly drifts to sleep from your soothing touch.

Okay, maybe he just loves you wholeheartedly and would do anything for you (he's whipped)

I imagine that he seeks out for head pats. Just pat his head. Pet him or sum idk ask him.

While in bed, he definitely headbutts your palm just to let you know what he wants. Cause like at first he just nudges you but if you don't get the hint, he'll straight up headbutt your hand (I saw someone say this and I love you for that)

CALL HIM A GOOD BOY UGHHH

Lowkey imagine if you called him a good boy tho that's crazy

I have to say that I think Daisuke, as much of a dumbass as he is, listens very well.

He's surprisingly very good at comforting you

He might now understand you, but he listens, and tries his best

TELL HIM YOU'RE PROUD OF HIM OMG

He's gonna find cheesy nicknames for you so buckle up >⁠.⁠<

Daisuke LOVES kissing you, there, I said it.

Whether it's a small peck on the cheek or a full on make out session, he's gonna enjoy it and THANK you.

He sometimes wonders how he pulled you ngl🤨

If like, some sort of small argument got in between you, he'll be apologizing on his knees and begging you to forgive him with snot running down

Imagine you called him a good boy that'd lowkey be crazy

If you somehow ever decide to wear a piece of clothing that belongs to him, it WILL be yours.

He's gonna squeal like a school girl and compliment youuu

Overall 10/10 boyfriend. He's sweet, charismatic, energetic, a bit of an airhead, kisses the ground you walk on, and bonus for being handsome.

★yoyomiko ★miko

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ailoda · 3 months ago

Text

updated: 09.03.25

⚯ ͛ smut

Just The Tip (✘): there’s a rumour going around that theodore nott has a big dick…..why not see it for yourself? (@slytherinslut0)

Seventy-Six Percent (✘): your boyfriend hasn’t fucked you in weeks and you’re tired of it, your best friend fred helps you get laid! (@titaswrld)

If You've Been Naughty, You Get... (✘): they say that the way you spend the new year’s night is the way you’re going to spend the whole year. you never took this expression to heart until now. (@nottswitch)

Be My First (✘): Theodore Nott x fem!reader virgin. (@slytherinslut0)

Hesitating (❅✘): after a trip to Hogsmeade, you realize that Theo seems to get an awful lot of attention from girls. To avoid getting hurt, you start to distance yourself from him to rid yourself of your crush. But Theo is not having it. (@distantdarlings)

Ti Amo (❤✘): a little drabble of your boyfriend showing you just how much he loves you. (@mommynott)

Mini Skirt (❤✘): Blaise Zabini’s idea of how to play matchmaker might be different from the traditional way of doing it but at least you ended up getting dicked down, so you guess his method works too. (@patrophthia)

new! The Valentine Special: Day One (✘): breeding kink. (@prythiansprincess)

new! Kinktober: Theo (✘): you have some… interesting experiences with theo when you and your friends decide to spend the night in an old haunted manor. (@leona-hawthorne)

new! Hot Tub (✘): Theo can't keep his hands off you after seeing you in a swim suit, but lack the privacy to really show you how much craves you, I guess the the hot tub will do for now. (@lov3notts)

new! You Need To Calm Down (✘): after returning to hogwarts for a subsidiary 8th year to make up for the loss of 7th year due to the war, you are a completely different person, and muggle-born-hating theo finds himself obsessed with you. (@dreamcubed)

new! what happens if you see your ex-boyfriend, theodore nott, at a halloween party? (✘) (@winnie1emon)

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clockwayswrites · 2 months ago

Text

A Hill to Die On, ch4, p1

masterpost

Despite Tim making a phone number for Alvin and having permission for him to message Danny, Alvin was proving elusive. Tim wasn’t entirely sure why; he’d never really tried to interact with the other alters of his system like this before. He hadn’t even thought of himself as a system before, not exactly.

After his date with Danny, Tim had hesitantly, nervously brought it up to his therapist. He had been worried that he might be infantilized because of it or, worse, she would suggest that he be put on medication to try and get rid of the other parts of him. Luckily, there had been none of that. She had asked a lot of questions, including if next time she could speak with either Caroline or Alvin, and had promised to send him some research to read. Most of her focus was about how he was coping with this revelation and what they could do to make it easier for him.

It had actually been, well, therapeutic.

Go figure.

Something else that she had suggested was to give Caroline and Alvin time ‘out’, or fronting. She expressed some concern that not allowing those parts of himself to be realized could keep him from settling himself in other aspects. Which… made sense. Since Alvin was proving a no show in all ways, Tim decided to focus on Caroline. Besides, she was the one who started this revelation in motion.

To that end he had both a bottle of white wine that he chilled before setting on the counter next to several take out menu options. There was also a box of fancy chocolates; a variety of flavored truffles. Tim didn’t actually know what Caroline would like for those, but he’d made his best guess. (He could always eat the rest.) Last of all, there was a little self-care package with a face mask, mani and pedicure items, and a bath bomb.

Going with the only way that he knew to pull out Caroline for sure, he headed to the bathroom, pulled out the bag of make-up, and carefully applied some lipstick. Subtle eyeshadow, mascara, Tim could feel Caroline ‘waking up’ and himself being pulled back. It was like when he’d stayed up too late and the heavy pull of sleep was grabbing at him. Instead of fighting it—something he would normally do if he was going to be on mission and needed to retain details—Tim let the change happen.

Caroline pressed her lips together, setting the lipstick a little more firmly in place. It was a lighter color than she might prefer, but it wasn’t unattractive on her. She covered up the bags under her eyes a little (Tim really needed more sleep) and added a bit of highlighting before she called the look done. It was just enough to make her feel right, which is what mattered.

She stripped off Tim’s boring clothing, tossed it towards the hamper, and went hunting for her own things. As she clasped her bra behind her, she let out a soft breath of air. It was a relief to have it on. It made it easier to look at herself in the mirror or think about what to wear. Still having a poor selection, she ended up in an old pair of Tim’s exercise shorts (which were short enough due to Tim having grown a bit) and one of Alvin’s large t-shirts.

Wandering out to main living space, the sight of the gifts that Tim had left made her smile. It was sweet of him, really. She had to hunt for a corkscrew first, but soon had the wine open and was pouring herself a generous glass. She corked the bottle and put it back in the fridge for now.

Glass of wine in hand, she put the chocolates carefully in her self-care basket and took the whole thing over to the couch. She had to give that to Tim, his couch was wonderful. She stretched out as she found something mindless to put on while she enjoyed the wine and chocolate. When she got up to get herself a second glass of wine, she put in a food order. It was a bit of a wait for the sushi to come, but she was looking forward to getting to just sit and enjoy the food. Maybe she would even enjoy it the bath and really relax.

Since it would be some time until food, Caroline sat down to paint her nails. Her previous efforts were were gone, picked off absently by Tim, but there were still little flecks that she cleaned off. She had just started on applying the new color to her toenails, toes carefully spread by the little foam things, when there was a knock at the door. Surprised yet pleas that her food was earlier than expected, she carefully hopped up off the couch and duck walked over to the door.

It wasn’t her food.

Well, there was food, but it was being held in the hands of one Dick Grayson.

There was a flash of surprise across his face that he worked to hide quickly behind one of his sunny smiles. “Hey, Tim! It’s been a while since we talked, so I thought I’d stop by with tacos from that place you really like!”

Translation: Tim has been out of contact for too long and how his big brother was worried.

Caroline expected to feel Tim stirring and rising up to take charge. But he wasn’t. He was so tucked away that she didn’t even think he was aware that his brother had come to visit.

Well, fuck.

“So,” Dick said, drawing the word out, “can I come in?”

“Yes, right,” Caroline said—mumbled really—and backed up to let Dick in through the door.

Dick headed right for the kitchen island, setting down the plastic bags and pulling them open. “So… playing around with a new look, Tim?”

It was an out. She could try and pretend that was it. That she was Tim. She could even brush it off as doing some undercover work soon for one of Tim’s friends and practicing his look so that it would be just right. It was a Tim enough thing to do.

It would work.

And Dick would go away never knowing she was there.

“Tim?”

Caroline snapped her head up. She took a breath and forced herself to uncross her arms and stop curling in on herself. “Sorry, what?”

“Just… are you okay? You know you can talk to me about stuff, right Tim?”

“Caroline.”

Well, fuck.

She crossed her arms again. Her freshly painted nails tapped in a sharp staccato against her arm. The emerald green flashed in the lights. Resisting the urge to fidget further, she looked out the window and the beautiful view that Tim’s apartment had.

It was easier than looking at Dick.

“Okay,” Dick said slowly, carefully. Like he thought Tim—she—might run. “Is that what you’d rather be called now? Or… at least right now? You know it’s okay if you’re trans, right? It won’t change your place with the family.”

Caroline shook her head. If only it was that simple. Tim wasn’t… was she even? She had always been a she, since as long as she had existed, but Tim’s body, this body wasn’t…

“Hey, Tim, come on, you’re worrying me here baby bird,” Dick said. Caroline heard him come over towards her, but didn’t look up at him until he put his hands gently on her arms. “Talk to me, Tim.”

Caroline searched Tim’s brother’s eyes. Still unsure what to do. What if she was too much? He wouldn’t hate Tim, but he could still hate her.

“Caroline.” She at least wanted to be called her own damn name.

“Caroline,” Dick said in that same gentle tone. “Talk to me, Caroline.”

“DID, or OSSD,” the words slipped free without her permission, tumbling out from that place she hid herself in like a wound that was finally allowed to bleed. “That stands for other specified dissociative disorder. It’s Caroline because I’m not Tim right now. He’s, hum, retreated? He’s giving me a night out. His—our? The therapist that we see thought that it might be good for us if we did that some, so he’s more away than normal and—I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m one of his Alters. There’s also Alvin but he’s not around as much. I don’t think he really cares to be.”

“Okay… okay Caroline. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

Caroline rolled her eyes, but did as Dick asked. As much as she hated to admit it, it did help. She hated that she needed the help. She wasn’t supposed to panic like that. Caroline was always supposed to be calm, know what to say, and be in control of the room.

But this was Dick.

This was their Tim’s family.

This was harder.

“That’s good, Caroline,” Dick said, smiling a little quirk of a smile. “Now, is it okay if I give you a hug?”

What? “Yes?”

As soon as she agreed, Dick pulled her into a hug. She just about melted into it. Slowly and uncertainly, Caroline wrapped her arms around Dick and hugged him back. It was odd. (It was wonderful.)

“…I don’t think I’ve ever been hugged before,” Caroline admitted in a whisper.

“Well, we’re going to have to fix that!” Dick chirped. “No little sister of mine is going without hugs.”

“Little sister?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re part of Tim,” Dick said as he pulled back enough to look her in the eyes, “so, I guess I just thought that would mean you’re my little sister?”

“Oh.”

“If you hate that thought—”

“No! No,” she said, the repeat more firm. She took a breath and stepped back. She needed the room to think. “I think that I rather like that idea. Or I will, but only if you think though that no one else will mind. I don’t want to cause problems between Tim and his family.”

“It’s your family too.”

“Can it be when no one knows I’ve been around?”

“Even then,” Dick said instantly and confidently. He squeezed her arms lightly. “Think how many people we’ve added to our family? You’re just, officially, going to be another one added.”

“That… can we wait on that?” Caroline asked. She hated the waver in her voice. “I don’t think that I’m ready for the whole family to know. It’s still new for me to be so in charge like this. Tim is normally right there, watching and able to assume control when the mission is over or there’s no further need for me.”

“There doesn’t need to be a need.”

A smile tugged at Caroline’s lips. It was cute how adamant Dick was about that. Wrong, but cute.

“Well… for right now, we have tacos to enjoy and sushi on the way. We could… sit and eat and talk? Tim bought me a lovely bottle of white if you’d like a glass?” Caroline offered with an uncertain hope fluttering in her chest.

Dick grinned. “Yeah? You’re okay with me crashing your relax night?”

“I’d in fact love it.”

#dp x dc #a hill to die on

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shysuccubusstuff · 25 days ago

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Puppy! Caleb

Content: Puppy! Caleb; begging + overstimulation + pussy eating + like lots of drool+ brainmelt + size difference + submissive caleb => dominant! caleb

Note: Uni has been so busy that I haven't been able to finish writing the pt. 2 I have due (I'm finishing Rafayel, only Sylus left). So I will try to create more shorter! I hope everyone is having a good week!! ♡

Puppy! Caleb who has been eagerly waiting for you to arrive home. His heat began while you were at work, forcing himself to hold back by rummaging around your underwear drawer, taking one of them and sniffing it as much as possible, the erection on his pants only growing even further as he kept rubbing his nose against them. He knows you will get angry at him for doing so, but he just misses so much, plus you recently did your laundry, so there was no clothing that had even a bit of scent of you, guess this was as good as it would get for him at the moment, right?...

Puppy! Caleb who comes rushing to you as soon as you arrive, ears moving up and down, his tail wagging behind him as he clenched his jaw to stop himself from jumping on top of you. He tries so hard to hide his erection, hands on front of his cock so he can try to keep it hidden as much as possible. His face blushing as he remembers how he came multiple times all over your underwear, his other hand pressing another of your pairs to his nose as he kept overstimulating himself, cumming over and over again over it until the poor cloth was completely wet by it.

Puppy! Caleb who doesn't hold much more time. As soon as he feels you hugging him after a long day at work, it only takes him a quick whiff to make him rock hard again, his cock pressing against your lower half and your tummy, his hips starting to move up and down as he starts to breath heavier, his warm breath hitting against your ear as his mind started to wander. He knows he should keep it together, after all, he was a bit older than you, wasn't he supposed to be the calm one? Oh, but you smell so nice, so sweet, almost as if you were teasing him... Are you? He knows he shouldn't take advantage of his abilities, but how could he simply ignore that sweet smell emanating from your lower half? Sure it's fine if he asks you prettily for permission to lick you there, right?...

Puppy! Caleb who gets on his knees as soon as you allow him, hands quickly getting rid of all the clothes that kept him away from your body. As soon as he is able to see your bare cunt, just know he won't stop, suddenly putting your whole weight on top of his face, tongue lapping all over your lower half, using the tip of his tongue to tap on your clit, sometimes sucking on it just to hear those sweet moans escape your lips. As your voice begins to become higher, Caleb decides to take it further, using the tip of his fingers to slowly prep you as he keeps sucking on your clit, using his other hand to press you against his face each time you try to run away from him. "Just let me have this one, promise I will behave next time, please? I'm aching so much..." Caleb looked at you with those puppy eyes, eyes dilatated as he paused himself for a second.

Puppy! Caleb who suddenly has you on a mating position, his whole body weight pressing you against the mattress, your face buried on the pillow as you keep whining each time his tip hits against that soft place. You have no idea what exactly happened, your mind already too far gone for you to even realise just how much noise you were making. That is the same for Caleb, of course, his mind ended up overwhelmed just from your sweet scent, eyes completely dazed as he keeps pushing his hips against your soft ass, the feeling making him growl as he kept trying his best to not mark your whole body more than he had already done, your whole body being marked by hickeys, together with a few scratches done by his nails due to how hard he had refused from being separated from that sweet treat you were for him. "You're doing so good, baby... So good... You feel so good wrapped around me..." Caleb kept whispering sweet praises against your ear, his deep thrusts making a huge contrast with them, making you whine as you simply let him manhandle you as much as he wanted. "Please, hold on for me yeah? Please, please, please... Fuck your pussy feels so good, just--- Just a few more rounds, 'kay? I love you, I love you, I love you..."

This kept going for several minutes, with Caleb's weight pressing against you, forcing you to cum over his lenght again and again, your poor cunt now sore from the sheer strength he kept using to make sure to reach that sweet spot.

Note to self: Keep your puppy in check!

#love and deep space #love and deepspace fic #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #caleb smut #caleb lads #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb lnds #xia yizhou

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prlssprfctn · 2 months ago

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AU, where Priest!Jason Todd keeps receiving random quests from the alternative universe, who are very, very persistent on getting his advice.

At some point, Jason stops getting surprised by the absolute unexplainable events in his hometown. He died and came back — so, what are some guests from the other realities for him? Absolutely nothing. He already helped that girl once, Traci. She also appeared out of nowhere.

And Jason... well, Father Jason is all about helping people, not asking questions.

That's why, when he sees a strange flash of light outside the church and hears heavy steps, coming closer to the confessional, he makes sure not to be too curious. Curiousity leads people to wrong paths sometimes.

'Jason?' The low, rumbling voice asks.

It reminds him of Thomas Wayne's a little but softer.

Thomas is not necessarily his friend, but they smoke sometimes together since Jason once accidentally found bleeding out Batman at the stairs leading to his church. He is a nice man.

'You shall call me Father Todd,' Jason fixes the guest methodically. 'How can I help you, my child?'

The man lets out a soft, amused laughter, and Jason hears him dragging his heavy body inside the booth before plopping on the cold, wooden seat.

'I am not here to confess,' the man warns. 'But I might need an advice.'

'An ask for help is also a confession in a way; sometimes, a bolder one,' Jason replies. 'I will do my best to guide you, my child. Tell me more about the issue you are facing.'

'I... I have a son,' the man starts slowly. 'I hurt him a lot in the past. And I don't know how to fix this.'

Jason hums, encouraging him to continue. They talk for the rest of the night. The mysterious guest leaves pleased.

In a week after that, another guest drops by. This time, it is a young man who keeps tapping his feet nervously and persistently cracks jokes straight until Jason gently tells him to lay on him all his burdens. This makes him snap and break down crying. Richard — or so he calls himself — never asks for advice, but he confesses in all things he had done; and then for things he didn't. Jason hears him out, reassuring that half of those wasn't even his fault, and they pray together that night through the thin wall dividing them. Richard tells him that it was a while he felt himself this free before leaving. Jason never hears from him again.

A seemingly young boy visits next. He is amused for the most of the time, but Jason still patiently talks him through the casualties of ceremonies like this, deciding not to get mad at a teenager — he was no better at that age. Somewhere in between long pauses and questions, Timothy suddenly starts talking quietly about his parents; about how they were religious, but he never understood their faith. Not really.

He says he misses him, and he wishes he could turn time back to agree on following his mom in the church in these rare days they were not working. They sit together for a while, and Jason allows him to reminisce about his parents. Tim leaves, thanking him for being heard.

Jason accepts a few more strange quests. A kid with the vocabulary of an ancient creature that admits that he is not even Christian — Jason still offers him an ear telling him it doesn’t matter; not when a child of God needs advice — a silent girl that speaks in short sentences and asks how to get rid of regret and guilt following her around for years, and then, a total opposite one: a blabbering and giggling girl that ends up talking with him about her mom. He swears, at some point Duke, the kid from Narrows that he has over with his family on Sundays, visits him too; just, somehow, an older one. Even that doesn't cause Father Todd to ask questions.

...Not until someone enters the confessional with a strange, animal-like cautiousness.

'So, you are the one they visit all the time, huh?' The stranger comments, his voice... his voice surprisingly familiar. 'Father Todd.'

If there is a slight mocking intonation in the low voice, then Jason prefers to ignore it.

'That would be me, yes. How can I help you, my child?'

'Well, well, Father Todd... Riddle me this...'

The more the unknown boy speaks, the more nauseous Jason feels. He knows this story; he remembers finding Catherine dead, he remembers stealing tires — and even though the boy by the other side found a family, while he didn’t, the death and reborn he speaks about, is still something Jason relates to.

For the first time since he started to get strange visitors, Jason indulges himself — he allows curiosity to take over.

The visitor is in the middle of casually, almost intentionally so, retelling how he woke up in the casket, when Jason walks out of his part of booth, and unceremoniously opens the opposite side of it, facing a boy in the red armour. He hugs a big, intimidating helmet, and when their eyes meet, Jason freezes, despite knowing an answer all along.

It is him. Of course, it is him.

'Jesus fucking Christ, ruining the very little privacy this place has, in our Catholic house?' The other Jason mocks him, leaning slightly forward. 'I expected more from us. I am hurt.'

Father Todd just sighs.

Nothing could ever prepare him for needing to... accept a confession from himself. Yet, he is here, staring at the scruffy youth with a wolf-like smile who is so obviously lost behind all these fake bravado that it hurts.

'Behave,' he purses lips in a thin line before closing the door in his face again.

He doesn't need to see to know that a surprised expression touched his sharp features.

Jason makes his way back to his side of confessional, and clears up his throat again.

'I apologise. Please, you shall resume your story.'

The other Jason is silent for a while. He thinks the boy might leave — they had it in themselves, after all; leaving when being met with an unexpected touch of gentleness from others, instead of rage — but then, he doesn't.

His voice lacks all mockery and amusement when he speaks up again, the words lacing in a tale of sorrow and regrets.

And Father Todd... answers, of course. He is not here to ask questions, after all. He is all about helping people.

And who, if not Jason Todd, knows that there is no one but higher forces and themselves, who can help them through their toughest times?

#flashpoint Jason you are very dear to me #god don't ask what the fuck is going through my mind with all these ideas #my religious backstory and traumas are definitely at fault for this one but well #jason todd #red hood #batman #dcu #dcu comics #dc universe #batfamily #bruce wayne #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas

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daddyslittlecrow · 1 month ago

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Room For Dessert?

Prompt: You’ve been secretly lusting after your doctor—who also happens to be your childhood friend—ever since you rekindled your friendship. But when you accidentally forget to hide your ‘toy,’ you quickly realize your desires might not be one-sided after all…

Pairing: MC/Reader x Zayne

18+ MDNI (Smut with plot)

A/N: This ended up longer than expected cuz I couldn't stop writing! Anyway hope you enjoy;)

———

Your body never failed to betray you when he was near. It was embarrassing having to discreetly clench your thighs together when he looked at you with those piercing eyes.

Even though his entire career was based on assessing people’s ailments, Zayne had no idea he affected you so much. If he had, he would’ve provided a remedy for you a long time ago. Whenever you sassed him back after he told you to be more careful on missions, his cock hardened.

Only when you’d left - bandaged and prescribed - would he finally release his throbbing cock from the confines of his trousers. Nothing could stop him. He would then stroke himself, frantically and desperate for relief.

All he wanted was to bend you over his desk and spank your ass red until you promised him you’d be more careful. Then he’d plunge into your soaking cunt until you screamed his name.

Despite having these feelings for you, he was scared this unholy confession would drive you away. He knew you’d be shocked, maybe even disgusted, by his desires.

So he pushed these thoughts away as best he could when you were with him. You didn't deserve it. Longing for you from afar was the safest choice.

The only choice.

———

It was a Friday night and you didn’t have anything to do other than relax. The week at work had been gruelling, to say the least. Thankfully, no injuries so you didn’t have an excuse to get lectured by Zayne. But it didn't mean you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

You had been too exhausted from work to touch yourself in a while and the mood had suddenly struck. The stress that had built up during the week seemed to melt away as you decided to indulge yourself with a session in the shower.

Towel in one hand and your favourite dildo in the other, you padded eagerly to the bathroom. As you waited for the water to heat up, you slowly undressed, imagining Zayne was watching your sultry strip tease.

When you were fully naked, you closed your eyes briefly, letting your hands roam over your skin. Imagining it was a pair of larger, scarred hands that grazed your collarbone. Drifting lower, guiding goosebumps down to your breasts. A thumb teasing your hardening nipple.

One hand would capture a breast, kneading your plump flesh. The other would continue its descent, seeking the growing slickness between your legs. You’d whimper his name as his cool fingers met your clit. His movements would be slow and calculated, seeing what made you buck your hips and seek more.

Only when you pleading breathlessly for more would he slide a finger along your slit, coating it with your hot slick before aligning it with your hole and-

A loud knock on the door startled you from your filthy thoughts. Someone was outside your apartment. Releasing a frustrated sigh, you shut off the water and wrapped the towel tightly around your body.

Whoever this fake-cock blocker was, you’d try to get rid of them as fast as possible. When you reached the door, you took a deep breath to collect yourself before pulling it open.

Your eyes widened in shock when you saw Zayne on the other side, holding a paper bag from your favourite restaurant.

When he saw your face his lips were already forming a greeting. They faltered when he saw you. Dressed in nothing but a fluffy white towel. He immediately turned to face the apartment door next to yours, pink splotches painting his cheeks.

“I- uh, Zayne! Sorry, I was just about to shower.” You choked on your words as you pulled the towel tighter. He cleared his throat, shaking his head at your words.

“No I’m sorry, I should’ve texted you first.” He lifted the bag. Thank god he had performed so many surgeries and knew how to keep his hands from shaking.

“I wanted to surprise you. I know you had a long week and while I’m glad you didn’t need to see me professionally, I thought it would be nice…”

He trailed off, the skin of his face burning from embarrassment now. This was stupid. He had been to your apartment many times to hang out but this was the first time he felt nervous about it.

The towel had thrown him off. He’d seen much less of you before when treating your injuries but being in the hospital made it easier to practice restraint.

You tried to ignore how your heart raced at his thoughtfulness. He was a good friend as usual. Stop overreacting. You forced a smile and opened your door wider. “You’re amazing. Perfect timing actually, I’m starving.”

You closed the door once he was inside and made a quick beeline to your bedroom to get dressed. He tried to suggest waiting until you had a shower but you declined. “It’ll go cold and you know those fries suck after being in the microwave. I’ll shower later.”

Zayne walked past you as you returned to the kitchen, now appropriately dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Even though he never left the hospital with so much as a hair out of place, he always washed his hands before eating. His voice was soft, teasing. “Start while it’s still edible.”

You chuckled at his words as you walked to the table, already set. You dished out the food, practically drooling as the scent of your favourite burger wafted into your nose. Then you froze. Shit. He’s in the bathroom. What if…

Relief washed over you as you remembered you threw your old clothes in the hamper. You don’t think you’d be able to look at him again if he saw your panties on the ground. You sat down. Still.

Something was wriggling in your mind.

Zayne didn't see it right away.

He was still thinking about you in your towel, blood rushing to his cock. All he wanted was to rip it off you and taste every single inch of you. He swore he did something terrible in a past life to be tortured by desire.

When Zayne reached for the soap, he almost choked. He couldn't believe it. You forgot to put it away before answering the door. Abandoned. Because of him. Had you worked yourself up enough to start filling yourself up before he knocked?

A low groan rumbled in his throat. He attempted to reposition himself to make his arousal less obvious inside his trousers. Making quick work of his hand washing, he decided to stay quiet about his findings.

Should he hide it in case you came in later? You might feel worse if you knew he touched it.

His heart clenched imagining you getting so flustered that he was asked to leave. He didn't want to let you go so soon. All day he looked forward to seeing you.

In all honestly, he had missed you terribly this week. Texting you would've helped but he was eager to surprise you.

After drying his hands and giving your toy one last glance, he opened the bathroom door.

-——-

Zayne’s footsteps pulled you from your worries and you picked up a fry. You didn't realise how hungry you were until the salty deliciousness hit your tongue. A delighted groan rumbled from your throat. You lifted the lid of your burger as Zayne sat down.

“Did you order extra pickles? Or are they finally treating me like I deserve?” You looked over at him with a grin. He looked lost in thought, refusing to meet your gaze. Weird. He was fine a few minutes ago.

Realising you were watching him, he suddenly shook his head, frowning slightly at your burger. “I threatened to sue if they decided to keep rationing their pickle supply. Looks like they're safe for another day.”

His words seemed to relax the both of you and the conversation flowed as you ate. It was good to finally have some time with him to end the miserable week. Zayne may not be the warmest person you've ever met, but he definitely knew how to make you laugh with his quick wit.

It was all going great until you fell.

He had made a snow version of you with an inaccurately large head and was insisting your head was that huge. “The hospital is planning to fund a case study on you. It's a medical mystery how your neck hasn't snapped from the weight.” He said with his signature deadpan. You rolled your eyes.

“We may even win an award.”

That last remark did it. You could barely breathe, let alone retort. Tears stung your eyes from laughing so hard. Zayne broke out in a handsome smile, something he only reserved for you.

With one hand still holding half your burger, you decided to get revenge. Your other arm snapped out to try to crush his frosty creation. But you must've been perched too close to the edge of your seat because a split second later, your chair toppled.

A cold pair of hands caught you before you met the floor. You looked up, Zayne’s merely inches from yours. His brows furrowed with a hint of annoyance but his eyes were brewing with something dark.

Your breath hitched when they briefly flickered to your lips. “It’s astonishing how easily you can get yourself hurt.” His voice was lower than usual. It weaved low into your stomach, coaxing you back into the desperate state he had interrupted. The threat of losing control forced you back into your signature smart-ass routine.

“Take it as a compliment for your joke-telling, Doc.” You smirked, letting him help you back on your feet. The shock had caused you to grip hard on your burger, covering your hand in sauce and grease. A disappointed sigh escaped your lips as you threw it onto your plate.

“Great. It's all fun and games until your dinner gets ruined.” You kept your dirty hand raised to avoid smearing the mess on your clothes. If you weren't distracted, you would've caught the flash of panic on Zayne’s face as you headed towards the bathroom.

Zayne’s chair scraped against the floor as he quickly stood. Not wanting to have your guest clear the table, especially when he was kind enough to get you dinner, had you calling out. “Leave it, honestly. I’ll clean up in a minute.”

You pressed your side into the bathroom door to enter and almost screamed. Standing proudly in all its glory was your dildo. Of course it was! How silly of you to think it would just disappear by itself! Oh, there was absolutely no way he hadn't seen it earlier.

No wonder he was a bit quiet when he came back. He was probably forcing himself to act normal for you. Ensure you don't feel embarrassed. Well too fucking late now. You felt your face grow hot and begged the floor to open up beneath you.

“Y/N…” The closeness of Zayne’s voice made you jump. He was hovering near the door. Your stomach dropped as the full situation finally caught up with you.

“I'm so sorry. T-this is so fucking awkward.” You were stuttering, eyes fleeting from your friend to the offensive object in the bathroom. Zayne always had the perfect response ready, but right now, all he could do was clear his throat.

He hated seeing you like this. But now this little secret was revealed, his blood was quickly rushing to his cock. Zayne’s hands twitched at the idea of finally kissing you, replacing your embarrassment with a desire that matched his own.

It was not in his nature to take risks. So why was his entire body threatening to snap? One last effort was all he had in him. With a deep breath, Zayne pretended like this was just a regular appointment. Distant, yet reassuring.

“No please don't apologise, Y/N. It's perfectly natural to have…desires.” He took a hesitant step forward.

When you heard him talking to you like a patient, you squirmed. Turning your attention to the sink, you quickly washed your hands.

The last thing you wanted was one of his textbook speeches. He was trying to act professional but when you looked back at him, his gaze was anything but.

“It's a good sign that your body gets aroused.” He took another step forward, slowly tightening the space between you.

His words were starting to replace your embarrassment with irritation. “It means you're healthy. And a toy is a safe option so long as you keep it sanitized and it doesn't hurt-”

You had to cut him off. It was unbearable. The towel you used to dry your hands was thrown down in a huff. “I know how to fucking use it Doc, so stop assuming I’m dumb enough to hurt myself with something like this.”

That silenced him immediately.

You bit your lip, instantly regretting your reaction. He was only trying to help. Your eyes dropped to your feet. You held back a gasp when icy fingers gripped your chin, gently forcing you to look at him.

“Perhaps…” He swallowed hard. His thumb brushed against your chin, lingering. “A demonstration would put my concerns at ease.”

Zayne's voice was practically a growl. The roughness of it was like a delicious lick against your core. The look in your eyes mirrored his perfectly.

But he was waiting for you. Seeking permission to finally cross the line that you both desperately fought against. “Tell me to stop. Please.”

A faint blush coloured his cheeks from the sheer effort of holding back. His other hand was clenched so tightly that his nails dug into the flesh of his palm.

Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand on his chest. His heart pounded hard against your touch, attempting to escape. You moved your head closer, lips ghosting over his. “I’d like to proceed with this examination, Doctor.”

The final thread that had held him back finally snapped. Zayne crashed his lips against yours. He was rough, almost punishing you for making him wait this long. His tongue slipped into your mouth, savouring your taste and swallowing the quiet moans he conjured.

Your hands rose, tangling his hair with your fingers to pull him closer. His body pressed hungrily into you, making your ass hit against the sink.

The hardening outline of his cock brushed against your hip. Your pussy clenched, already a soaking mess and he hadn't even touched you.

Zayne broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that since our first appointment.” He whispered, skimming his fingers along your cheek. The confession made your knees weak, gripping him harder before they gave out.

The room crackled with overdue tension. Realising that he had wanted you for as long as you did him made you shiver in pleasure. You looked so beautiful like this. Lips wet and swollen because of him. He needed to see what else he could do to you.

Your eyes fluttered closed as Zayne inched his hands under your t-shirt, exploring your smooth skin. When his fingers grazed against your breasts, your hips involuntarily bucked.

He hummed at your responsiveness, watching your face as he rubbed a stiffening nipple. Then he gently pinched it.

Your head pulled back, his name a whimper. With your throat exposed, he wasted no time. His mouth was hot against your sensitive skin, sucking and marking you.

You couldn't breathe. Your pussy was aching, grinding itself against the tailored fabric of Zayne’s trousers.

One of his hands immediately had a bruising grip on your hip, ceasing your movements. He chuckled softly as you pouted at him. “I think you're sufficiently aroused. Shall we continue?”

Your eyes widened as he pulled back, reaching for the dildo. The sound of it popping as the suction cup released made you instantly shy. “Zayne…”

Your words trailed off when you saw the look in his eyes. This wasn't a request. He was in control. If you wanted to tease him with a show, he would make you keep your word.

Your thighs clenched together as he studied the toy, testing the girth. With a hum of satisfaction, he handed it to you. “Show me what you would’ve done if I hadn't stopped you.”

You hesitated before taking the toy, desire dissolving what remained of your timidness. Zayne crossed his muscular arms and leaned against the bathroom wall, patiently waiting.

With a deep breath, you turned and walked to the shower. While the room started to steam up, you stripped off your clothes as he watched, just like you imagined.

He was truly speechless as his eyes roamed over your naked form. Every inch of you was exquisite. Not even the finest artist in the world could accurately capture the beauty before him.

The way his eyes burned for you made your thighs slick from your arousal. He looked at you as if he owned you. It seared your skin as you stepped into the shower, water immediately cascading down every curve of your body.

The dildo made a lewd slap as you stuck it onto the damp tile. The swell of your ass brushed against the tip, testing the placement. You had done this enough times to know what was the perfect height.

You locked eyes with Zayne through the glass, moving your hand down to touch the place you needed most. As soon as your fingers made contact with your throbbing clit, you stopped thinking.

Knowing he was watching you as you touched yourself was so erotic, making you feel soâ€¦filthy. It was intoxicating.

Zayne watched, frozen. He was so hard it was painful. His cock strained against his trousers, begging to be touched. He knew there was a growing patch of pre-cum darkening his boxers.

The way you rocked against your hand was so incredibly sexy that he wanted the image burned into his memory forever. His hand shook slightly as he palmed himself over the layers of material for a small bit of relief.

You couldn't handle how empty your cunt felt. You couldn't move quickly enough as you positioned the tip of the dildo against your sloppy wet hole. One hand slammed against the glass wall and you pushed your hips back, letting out a guttural moan as it sank into you.

The wet sound of your pussy slamming against silicone echoed around the bathroom. You fucked yourself fast and hard, desperately chasing the intense pleasure building deep within. Zayne lost it.

He unbuckled his belt as he walked towards the glass, eyes locked on yours. Your breasts bounced to the beat of your thrusts, eyes almost rolling to the back of your head as he released his thick cock for you.

His thumb slid across the soaking tip, spreading the beads of fluid to lubricate himself. The other hand was placed exactly where yours was. Even through glass, he could feel the scorching heat of your skin.

As slow as he could manage, he stroked himself as he watched you like a caged animal. Nothing mattered anymore. Not his profession. Not your friendship. Just you and him.

Seeing him fuck into his hand, all because of you, was your breaking point. Your body needed his touch like it needed air. “Zayne.” You moaned, white-hot pleasure starting to overcome you.

As soon as his name left your lips, Zayne ripped every piece of clothing from his body, racing your orgasm. Just as you were about to cum, he was in the shower with you, pulling him to you so the dildo slipped out. You almost cried with frustration.

“I’m sorry.” His breath was ragged. He violently pulled the dildo off the wall and threw it out of the shower. “I’d like to carry out some further tests.” Before you could open your mouth, he kissed you with every fibre of his being.

Your back met the wall, tongue and teeth clashing as his hands fondled your hips. He needed to see you come undone but only by him. Peppering kisses onto your neck, he continued onto your breasts until his knees met the tile floor.

“Legs on my shoulders.” You instantly followed his orders, shoulders pressing against the wall as you perched on him.

He took in the sight of your swollen pussy, your arousal causing sticky webs as he spread you with his fingers. “Tell me you think of me when you fuck yourself like that.”

You whimpered at his words. His breath hot against your pussy. Your hips shifted, trying to get him closer. Your mouth felt dry as you swallowed. “You’re the reason I have to fuck myself in the shower.”

He licked a teasing path from your hole to your clit, groaning at the taste. “And why is that, darling?” Fuck. If you weren't desperate to cum, you would've cooed at the affectionate name.

“I was tired of how much of a mess I made thinking of you.” His fingers sunk into your skin, almost painfully so.

“You’re going to make a mess for me now, is that okay?” You had barely nodded before his tongue was lapping at your clit. A scream ripped through you as he devoured your pussy like it was the only thing he was placed on this earth to do.

Your fingers tugged at his hair, the familiar tension coiling once again within you. Without warning, he rammed two fingers into you, pumping fast. All you could do was moan and gasp.

He suckled on your hard clit as he explored your tight walls, acutely aware of the spots that made you buck against him. You could feel him smirk against you when screamed his name, locating the spongy texture of your g-spot. The pleasure was building at an alarming speed, your pussy gushing as you rocked against his mouth and fingers.

“Zayne wait. It's too much…” Your words fell on deaf ears. He could tell you were so close, your walls starting to clench around his fingers as he pistoned them harder.

Your mouth fell open as the burning coil in you snapped. The waves of pleasure crashed hard. “Cumming.” Was all you could muster as your fluids burst out of you, squirting all over Zayne’s face and chest.

Zayne had never experienced something as hot as that. He almost came right there as your squirt mingled with his tongue. He pulled his head back to look at you, fingers still fucking you through your aftershocks.

“Good girl. You did so well.” He purred, pulling his fingers out of you. His praises caused you to clench, already hating how empty you felt again.

Zayne kissed you passionately, letting you taste yourself on his lips. The hardness of his cock poking against your stomach told you he was far from done. “I need you.” His plead was barely a whisper.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, biting back a laugh. He was so sweet, even when he was aching to fuck you. You took his cock in your hand, slowly pumping him. He gasped your name.

You let go of him, manoeuvring your bodies so his back was against the wall. Then you turned around, setting both hands on the glass to brace yourself. Your eyelids fluttered as you looked over your shoulder at him.

“Take me then.”

He wasted no time, gripping your hips as he positioned himself against your dripping cunt. Your mouth bit into your arm as he slowly stretched you open. He was much bigger than your dildo. You took a deep breath, urging your muscles to relax and accommodate him.

Noticing how tense you were, he planted soft kisses along your spine. “That’s it, beautiful. Keep breathing for me. Look at you. Taking me so well.” Your pussy ached at his words, sucking him in until he was balls-deep in you.

He didn't move yet, letting you catch your breath and relaxing even more around him. The water was a warm welcome against his cool skin. Even though his cock was screaming at him to take up, he bit hard on his lip and ignored it.

All he cared about was you. His arm snaked around your waist, finding your clit. He rubbed it in slow, hard circles until you were whining for him to move.

“Zayne. Please. I need-” He didn't let you finish, pulling out slowly until he was barely in you. When he inched back into you, he groaned softly, wanting to savour the feeling of your velvety walls as they massaged the length of him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured against the shell of your ear, earning him a pretty sob as he continued his brutally steady pace. He melded into you perfectly. Like you were made just for him.

You were growing restless, trying to increase his pace by thrusting your hips back. Zayne all but snarled at your neediness. He brought his free hand back and spanked your ass.

You yelped in surprise. You had never been spanked during sex before. You also didn't expect to like it so much.

“Is that all you got, Doctor?” You taunted. You were drunk off him. Zayne thrust into you harder, increasing his speed. He spanked you again.

“You’ll take what I give you darling.” He muttered, working his fingers faster on your clit. Another orgasm was quickly building. His patience wore thin. He started fucking you ruthlessly, on the precipice of his own release.

He grabbed a fistful of your wet hair, causing your back to arch. The sound of his wet skin slapping against yours was intoxicating. Leaning over, he kissed you, your moans mixing with his. He could tell by your rapid breathing that you were close.

“Does my cock feel good, Y/N? Better than that toy hmm?” Your pussy was pulsing around him. He drove into your g-spot so hard you started seeing stars.

You were feral, moaning until your throat felt hoarse. Zayne grunted, obsessed with the idea that he made you this way. “Good girl. Cum for me again.”

The only thing that left your lips was his name. Over and over as your release hit you. You soaked his cock as you squirted again, screaming as the pleasure overtook you.

The way you clenched around him caused his thrusts to stutter. Zayne’s release quickly followed. Your pussy squelched as he filled it over and over with spurts of hot cum.

He continued rutting into you until you milked him dry, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You were both breathing hard, unable to speak. After a few moments, the hot spray of the shower grew colder. “Shit, we used up the hot water.” You chuckled weakly.

Zayne pulled you out of the shower, wrapping you in a towel before drying himself with another. You were exhausted. Not trusting your legs, you plopped yourself onto the lid of the toilet. Once he was dry, he walked over to you and easily lifted you up, carrying you to your bedroom.

When he lay you down on your bed, he kissed you tenderly on the forehead. You gripped his hand before he could leave your side. “Are you leaving?” You asked, suddenly feeling more exposed than you had all night.

His hazel eyes softened and he sat on the edge of the bed. Zayne’s lips quirked into a small smile as he brushed the damp hair from your still-flushed face. “Of course not. Unless you wanted me to?”

He watched you shake your head shyly. Unable to stop himself, he leaned down and kissed you.

It was different, fuelled by something much deeper than lust. It made you dizzy but you pulled him closer, melting against his lips.

You were panting by the time he pulled away, raising to his feet. Your eyebrows knitted together. Before you could ask him where he was going, he gave you the most devilish smile.

“You didn't think I'd come with your favourite dinner and forget your favourite dessert? It's in the freezer. I'll be back with two spoons.”

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