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saetoru · 1 year ago

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AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet.

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice.

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions.

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not.

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access.

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard.

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch.

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval.

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it.

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant.

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit.

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst.

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare.

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?”

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him.

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore.

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you.

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody.

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again.

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place.

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this.

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel.

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father.

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know.

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him.

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you.

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress.

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him.

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth.

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t.

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru.

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips.

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you.

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it.

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate.

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words.

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans.

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock.

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his.

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek.

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

#🎃 — kinkteeber !!#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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harrysfolklore · 5 months ago

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plsss can you make a fake instagram where the reader is a lawyer

you know how to ball, i know aristotle - op81

i really liked how this one turned out ! we love sino oscar 🥰 make sure to leave your feedback

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 18,637 others

yourinstagram greetings from the library 🧐 keeping an eye on my angel boy who started kindergarten (aka formula one) last month

tagged: oscarpiastri

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username1 serving cunt in the library we love to see it ♥︎ by author

username2 fellow columbia student right here 🙋‍♀️

↳ yourinstagram omgg we should hang out soon

username3 since when are you into f1 bestie

↳ yourinstagram since i’m dating one of the drivers 🤔

oscarfan1 THIS IS OSCAR’S GF??? SHES GORGEOUS ♥︎ by author, oscarpiastri

username4 i’ve been following for ages now but i just found out that she’s dating a famous athlete 😭

oscarfan2 i was ‪hoping that oscar was single but now that i found out that he has a beautiful AND smart gf i want them to adopt me

logansargeant I’ve been taking care of him in the playground, don’t worry

↳ yourinstagram i wouldn’t expect any less from you

↳ landonorris We haven’t met yet but I’m also taking care of little Oscah ♥︎ by author

↳ landofan1 OFC HE HAD TO COMMENT

↳ yourinstagram well thank you, little lando norris

mclaren When will we see you in papaya gear at a race? 🧡 Ps. The last picture is so real

↳ yourinstagram omg when college stops kicking my ass

↳ oscarfan1 i love her already

oscarpiastri I miss you so much, but I’m so happy to see you in your dream school, smart girl🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan2 IM SOBBING THIS IS SO SWEET

↳ yourinstagram i love you 🥺

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 457,296 others

oscarpiastri The smile on my face could only mean one thing: It’s home race weekend 🇦🇺

view all 12,027 comments

oscarfan1 BABYYYYY

oscarfan2 he looks so kissable

mclaren Australia’s National Treasure 🧡

oscarfan3 MANIFESTING A PODIUM SO HARD

logansargeant Good luck on your home race bro 🙌 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 bestiesss

username1 i’m still waiting for his girlfriend’s paddock debuttt

alex_albon The superior papaya boy ♥︎ by author

↳ landofan1 LANDO WAS FOUND CRYING

↳ oscarfan1 i love them

landonorris I’m going to categorically ignore what alex albon just said

↳ landofan1 HES SOOOO😭

landonorris Don’t to fool your audience, your smile is because your girl is finally coming ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ landofan2 OMFGGGGGGGGG

↳ oscarfan2 OSCAR AND YN PADDOCK DEBUT CONFIRMED BY LANDOOOO

↳ oscarfan3 goddd i was praying for this

↳ yourinstagram but can you blame him? ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 I LOVE THIS RELATIONSHIP SM

yourinstagram i can’t wait to see you, squish 🥺 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 SQUISH I COULD SOBBBB

↳ oscarfan2 they’re so adorable i can’t do this

↳ oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️

yourinstagram added to their stories

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 47,836 others

yourinstagram took a break from law school to finally go to my first race 🕺 SO PROUD OF YOU @oscarpiastri

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username1 AWEEE your wag era finally

oscarfan1 QUEEN OF THE PADDOCK ♥︎ by author

carmenmmundt It was so lovely to meet you ✨ ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram likewise beautiful carm 💓

↳ username2 i just want to be one of them

oscarfan2 thank you yn for giving us a weekend of blushy and smiley oscar and the best boyfriend content ever

oscarfan3 COME TO EVERY RACE PLEASEEE

↳ yourinstagram i would love to but i have to get my degree 🥲

mclaren You’re officially a papaya girl now 🧡

username2 they make the best couple ever bc she’s all brains and he’s all muscle ♥︎ by author

landonorris Go get that degree now, I need someone who can get me out of jail for free

↳ landofan1 WHY IS HE LIKE THIS 😭😭

↳ yourinstagram 🫡🫡🫡

username3 she’s stronger than me because is oscar piastri was my bf and i had the chance to travel around the world with him and look pretty u would drop out of college already

↳ yourinstagram just a few months till graduation i can do it okay

↳ oscarfan2 I LOVE HER

oscarpiastri Having you here made this weekend the best ever. I love you ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 BOYFRIEND OSCAR I CANT

↳ username1 why can’t my boyfriend simp for me like this

↳ yourinstagram i loveeee youuuu

liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 654,386 others

oscarpiastri The perfect home race weekend 🇦🇺 I miss you already @yourinstagram 🤍

view all 15,099 comments

oscarfan1 AWEEEEE

oscarfan2 MY HEART

georgerussell63 I need more of those grandma Piastri cookies ♥︎ by author

↳ danielricciardo Same

↳ username1 LET ME INNNN 😭

mclaren We love Australia 🦘🌏

oscarfan3 yn and oscar shouldn't be separated that's like a crime ♥︎ by yourinstagram

oscarfan4 THE THRID PIC MY HEARTTTT

landonorris Your girlfriend is cooler than you btw ♥︎ by yourinstagram

↳ landofan1 and teammate of the year award goes to lando norris

↳ logansargeant I agree

↳ username2 imagine the entire grid loving you

↳ oscarpiastri You're supposed to be my friend

↳ landonorris And she’s going to be my personal lawyer soon so

↳ yourinstagram 😭😭😭

yourinstagram i love you so much, angel. thank you for this weekend 🥺 ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 their relationship is the purest thing ever

liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63 and 764,389 others

oscarpiastri Little mid season recharge. Visiting my favorite future lawyer 🤎

tagged: yourinstagram

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oscarfan1 AWEEEEEE

oscarfan2 we love softie oscarrrr

username1 oh to be a columbia student

landonorris My kids ❤️❤️

↳ landofan1 lando is the biggest shooter for this relationship

↳ yourinstagram you’re just two years older than me..

↳ landonorris And? You’re my kids

↳ oscarfan2 I LOVE THEMMMM

username2 yn’s curls are so prettyyyy omg ♥︎ by author

nicolepiastri Our smart girl ! 👩‍⚖️ ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ oscarfan1 aweee mama piastri

↳ yourinstagram love you 🥺

username3 imagine chilling in the library procrastinating some homework and you turn around and oscar piastri is there

yourinstagram i love you so much squish 🫶 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 why are her pet names for him so damn adorable

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 49,635 others

yourinstagram i can’t believe it’s my last week here and i’m going to be a real lawyer soon 😳

view all 633 comments

username1 GRADUATION IS SOOOON OMG

username2 i’ve been following you since you graduated high school and posted tips about college applications and now you’re about to finish college omg ♥︎ by author

oscarfan1 OMG OSCAR MUST GO TO HER GRADUATION

lilymhe congratulations smart girl 🤍🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram thank you lovely 🫶

oscarfan2 THE LAST PICTURE IM YELLING

username3 she has the coolest life ever

mclaren Everyone in the papaya department is super proud 🧡

↳ yourinstagram ilysm mclaren admin

logansargeant How come you’re still dating my friend, who barely finished high school 😂 congrats!

↳ yourinstagram he’s cuuuuute 🥺

↳ oscarfan1 oscar’s friends are always dragging him help

↳ landonorris And can’t win a GP

↳ oscarpiastri You surely got confident after Miami, Lando Onewin ♥︎ by author, georgerussell63, alex_albon

↳ landofan1 STOOOOOP😭

oscarpiastri I’m always proud and in awe of you, but specially now 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 I LOVE SIMP OSCAR

liked by oscarfan1, oscarfan2 and 2,936 others

f1updates “My girlfriend graduating from Columbia Law School next week so as soon as the job is done here I’m heading to New York. I’m really proud of here and I wouldn’t miss this moment for anything else.” - Oscar Piastri for SKY Sports

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oscarfan1 OMFG IM CRYING

oscarfan2 smile heart eyes and blush make an appearance again

oscarfan3 he’s super proud you can tell by his eyes

oscarfan4 flexing his lawyer girlfriend as he should

oscarfan5 SO HIGH SCHOOL IS ABOUT THEM

oscarfan6 my definition of a simp

yourinstagram has added to their story

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 865,388 others

oscarpiastri My girlfriend is a lawyer 💙

view all 27,034 comments

oscarfan1 I LOVE THISSSSS

oscarfan2 WHAT IF I CRY

username1 that cake is too iconic i need it

georgerussell63 Congrats YN! ♥︎ yourinstagram

oscarfan3 the cake is that tiktok audio 😭😭

nicolepiastri We’re all so proud of you @yourinstagram 👩‍🎓🤍 ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ oscarfan1 mama piastri loves her they’re getting married

↳ yourinstagram love you! thank you for the unconditional support 🥺

charles_leclerc Well done 👏👏 ♥︎ by yourinstagram

lilymhe 💓💓💓 ♥︎ by yourinstagram

username2 imagine having a columbia degree AND a hot boyfriend i can’t relate

mclaren Our favorite lawyer 🧡 ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

↳ oscarfan2 the mclaren intern just loves yn

oscarfan4 good time to remind everyone that oscar barely finished high school but he somehow bagged a lawyer girlfriend

landonorris Yooo congrats @yourinstagram I can speed while driving and pass red lights now that I have someone who can get me out or jail for free

↳ landofan1 LANDO PLEASE 😭

↳ yourinstagram please do not do that i beg you

landonorris You’re welcome for the cake idea btw

↳ oscarfan1 I KNEW oscar could never come up with that

↳ yourinstagram so it was you ! huh

↳ oscarpiastru Shhhh

yourinstagram i love you so much ❤️❤️ ♥︎ by author

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 69,736 others

yourinstagram you know how to ball, i know aristotle 🤍 proof that we’re both awkward for pictures

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username1 CUTIES

oscarfan1 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 😭

oscarfan2 they really said 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️ ♥︎ by author

mclaren 🧡🧡 ♥︎ by author

oscarfan3 they match each other’s freak

alexandrasaintmleux ❤️ ♥︎ by author

username2 you look so cute together

nicolepiastri My babies 🥺 ♥︎ by author, oscarpiastri

landonorris Hug your girlfriend wtf @oscarpiastri

↳ landofan1 😭😭😭

↳ oscarpiastri Don’t tell me what to do thank you very much

oscarfan4 that lyric is literally THEM

username3 pretty, smart and a swiftie we love to see it

oscarpiastri I’m the trophy boyfriend 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 ugh i need a man like him

↳ oscarfan1 exactly oscar know your place

2K notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months ago

Text

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

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

word count; 10.8k

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

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

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

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

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

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

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

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

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

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

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

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

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

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

he looks so small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

moron.

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

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

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

but he just won’t listen.

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

”satoru.”

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

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

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

but most of all, you’re worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all.

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

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

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

it only makes you worry more.

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

you just want to give some of it back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

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

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

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

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

he wants to be good for you, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”it’s only four, satoru.”

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

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

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

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

it’s significantly less scalding, now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”hehe.”

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

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

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

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

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

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

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

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

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

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

”but —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

”your baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!”

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

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

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

a tilt of your head.

”… but you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so you opt to indulge him.

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

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

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

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

”you’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

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

”of course.”

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

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

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

”your room is very like you.”

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

”… oh? how so?”

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

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

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

he closes his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

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

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

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

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

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

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

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

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

you reach something.

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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