#i was really hoping that it would be this year

[gojougf]

convergence theory

pairing ⸺ tutor nerdjo! x student! reader

summary ⸺ desperate to pass your maths subject required for you to pass your psych major, you reluctantly accept satoru gojo's help after a botched tutoring request. what starts as a mutually beneficial arrangement—he needs your uncle's influence for an event, and you need help with calculus—quickly turns into something more complicated.

word count ⸺ 26.6k (heh)

warnings ⸺ smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!gojo, oral (both m and f receiving), college AU, nerd!gojo, gojo is like really fucking annoying, switch gojo!, mentions of food, fem! reader, lmk if i missed any

“This is simply not enough, (name). If you want to pass, you need at least 50 percent. I’ll let you retake the required modules and assessments, but I strongly suggest hiring a tutor.”

Your professor sighs, rubbing his temple as you grimace in displeasure.

College math.

The bane of your existence.

Why you needed to pass a math module just to earn extra credit for your psychology major was beyond ridiculous. You had never been particularly good at math, always gravitating toward English or science-related subjects. Nothing too sciency, though. Psychology made sense—it was theory-based, more about understanding people than crunching numbers. It wasn’t the kind of science that required you to calculate how many moles of carbon were left after a reaction or figure out what would happen if a car crashed into a wall at 60 km/h. 

“I can personally recommend last year’s top student—full marks in every assessment and module. He might be available, assuming he doesn’t already have a full roster of students. If you can wait a little longer, he’ll be here soon to pick up last week’s student projects. He’s my TA this semester.”

Your professor’s voice takes on a rare note of approval as he talks about this so-called star student—someone impressive enough to earn the admiration of a man who had docked half your marks over the method rather than the answer.

You nod stiffly, setting your bag down beside you before sinking into the chair across from his desk. You could wait—had to wait, if you wanted even the slightest chance of scraping a pass in this godforsaken breadth subject. The measly 40% scrawled across your paper seemed to mock you, glaring up at you as if it, too, had given up on your ability to solve for x.

Tuning out the professor’s ongoing praise of this so-called star student, you try to focus on anything else. Honestly, how much more could he go on about this guy? It was getting exhausting. You weren’t here to listen to a TED Talk about some math genius—you were here because your GPA was hanging by a thread, and apparently, this person was your last hope of saving it.

Now, by no means were you dumb. Far from it. Some people just weren’t built for numbers, and unfortunately, you happened to be one of them. But when it came to the subjects you were good at? You thrived—aced every exam, topped your classes, excelled in ways that made professors take notice. Just… not in math. Never in math.

And yet, here you were. Waiting.

At least your waiting was cut short when he walked in.

White hair gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the professor’s office, strands falling effortlessly over cerulean eyes framed by almost impossibly pale lashes. He was tall—really tall—with an easy, unshaken confidence that made it clear he was fully aware of the attention his presence commanded. A navy-blue sweater hung loosely over his broad frame, the soft fabric contrasting against the sharp tailoring of his crisp black slacks. And—were those dress shoes?

Yeah. Okay. You could admit it—this guy was hot. But it wasn’t just his face (which, to be fair, looked like it belonged on a magazine cover). It was the way he carried himself, the unbothered ease in his posture, the quiet yet unmistakable I-know-I’m-better-than-you energy that radiated off of him.

And suddenly, you understood why your professor held him in such high regard. He didn’t just look like the type of person who aced every exam—he looked like the president of some elite quantum mechanics club, the kind of person who thrived on things like advanced calculus and theoretical physics for fun.

Great. Just great.

“(Name), this is Satoru Gojo. Satoru, this is (Name).. She’s struggling with the content this semester and needs extra help if she wants to pass alongside her major. I was just telling her how brilliant you are and hoping you might have the time to tutor her—of course, only if your schedule isn’t already full.”

You try not to visibly flinch at the way your professor phrases it, as if you’re some hopeless case in dire need of salvation from this so-called prodigy. Seriously? He could’ve at least sugarcoated it a little in front of Satoru.

But as your professor speaks, his voice takes on a warmth that’s… weirdly affectionate. And when you glance over, you’re met with the absolute worst thing you could have imagined—your professor, practically beaming at Satoru, eyes practically glittering with admiration.

What the hell is this? Why does he look at him like that? Is this normal?

You barely manage to mask the horrified expression on your face, but it doesn’t matter—because Gojo sees it. And worse, he revels in it. His smirk stretches just a little wider, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement as he watches your silent suffering.

You think you’re gonna implode.

And then, with an exaggeratedly pitiful look, he turns back to the professor. “Sir, you know I’d love to help,” he says, voice practically dripping with faux sincerity. “But I’ve recently been asked to assist the research team for the theoretical physics paper. It’s a big opportunity—could really help with my master’s application—so I’m going to have to politely decline.”

Ah. So your hunch about him being some physics nerd was right.

He casts what might’ve been intended as a respectful bow in your direction, though it comes off more like a lazy spasm. You don’t even think he realizes how condescending it looks.

Yeah. He definitely doesn’t give a fuck.

“Oh. Well, (Name), it looks like you’re going to have to figure things out on your own,” your professor sighs, rubbing his temple. “Satoru was the best option—probably the only person who could actually help you pass. But maybe check out some tutors outside of campus? I’m sure there are professionals willing to help.”

Oh hell no.

Your heart plummets. Does he hear himself? Like it’s just that easy to hire a tutor? You’re a broke college student, barely surviving on instant noodles and coffee, and now you’re supposed to drop a fortune on private tutoring? Absolutely not.

Campus tutors were your only shot—they charged significantly less since the experience boosted their academic records, helped them secure internships, and all that nonsense. You were counting on that.

And now?

Your only remaining option was the physics nerd with the condescending smirk and ridiculous dress shoes.

You sigh internally, steeling yourself. If this guy is your last resort, then fine. You’ll grovel if you have to. Because there’s no way in hell you’re letting this godforsaken subject be the reason you don’t graduate.

“Please. Is there… um, any way you can fit me into your schedule?” You finally break the silence, your voice betraying a hint of pleading that makes you cringe internally. You hate that you’re begging. You can already hear your female ancestors rolling in their graves, disappointed that their descendant is down on her knees—metaphorically—asking a man to help her pass a stupid class.

You try not to let the thought sting too much, but it’s hard to ignore the gap in experience and expectations that separates you from him.

Curse this subject. Curse these grades. Curse my professor. Curse Satoru Gojo.

Satoru, meanwhile, looks mildly entertained by your discomfort. You stand, your bag hanging across your shoulder, trying your best to meet his eyes with a mixture of irritation and a clear, no-nonsense look that says, I see right through you.

But can you really blame him? He’s Satoru Gojo—head of the Physics Society, on the verge of completing his master’s, practically guaranteed a spot in the university’s elite PhD program thanks to his perfect grades and the top-tier references from his research. Of course he doesn’t have time for a tutor request from a girl who, from his perspective, probably couldn’t even define a limit, let alone solve one. Yeah, no.

“Sorry, no can do! As I said, I’m extremely busy right now—” Satoru starts, his tone dripping with smugness, but you cut him off before he can finish, not even caring that your professor is witnessing this desperate spectacle unfold.

“Please. I don’t think you understand—I need to pass this unit to fulfill the requirements for my major. Please consider my request…” You bow slightly in his direction, one hand fiddling with the hem of your skirt, a trickle of sweat rolling down the back of your neck.

For a moment, he just stares. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he leans back, crossing his arms. “Fine. I’ll see if I can make time. But you’ll have to wait at least a week for my response—I’m extremely busy.”

Your eye twitches. What a dick. But this is your last shot, so you grit your teeth and let it slide.

“I appreciate it,” you say stiffly. “Well—I'll get going now.” You give a polite nod to both Satoru and your professor, already itching to leave.

As you turn to go, you briefly catch his gaze raking over your form. It’s quick—so quick you might’ve imagined it—but something about the way his eyes linger sends a small, unfamiliar twinge through your body. You shake it off, more focused on willing this pretentious motherfucker to actually make space in his schedule for you.

—

With a small huff, Satoru pushed up his glasses, squinting at the screen of his phone. His stomach dropped to his feet as he scanned the lengthy paragraph from his date—an apologetic explanation that she had other commitments and unfortunately couldn’t accompany him to the Laplace Institute Annual Summit.

Great. Just great.

Of all the events to be ditched at, it had to be this one—a prestigious physics summit where one particular high-profile attendee held the key to more than just recognition in his PhD. With their reference, Satoru wouldn’t just gain extra credibility in his field—he’d finally get his foot in the door for several high-level research projects he’d been eyeing for months. Projects that could fast-track his academic career, solidify his standing, and maybe, just maybe, give him the kind of edge he was always looking for.

And now? He was going to have to show up alone.

He groaned, running a hand through his white hair. The summit was in like a month. Finding a replacement this last minute was going to be nearly impossible. It wasn’t just about bringing anyone—he needed someone who wouldn’t embarrass him in front of academics, and preferably, someone who looked good on his arm.

But with the semester in full swing and his usual prospects already booked or uninterested, he was running out of options. Fast.

Satoru exhaled sharply, flopping back against his chair. Maybe he could go alone. It wasn’t required to have a plus-one, but damn if it wouldn’t look pathetic. A guy like him, showing up solo? He could already hear the whispers—how the oh-so-brilliant Gojo Satoru had been stood up, how maybe he wasn’t as charming as he let on.

His jaw tightened. No. That wasn’t happening.

“Suguru, you won’t believe this. I’ve been stood up for the Laplace Institute Annual Summit.”

Satoru slumped dramatically over the desk, resting his forehead against the cool wood as if the universe had personally wronged him.

Across from him, Suguru barely spared him a glance, his eyes scanning the dense text of his medical textbook. He was deep in the topic of embryology, and not even Satoru’s very real crisis seemed to warrant his attention.

“Hm?” Suguru hummed absentmindedly, flipping a page. “That fancy physics event you wouldn’t shut up about? The one with that one professor?”

“Yes! That professor—the guy.” Satoru huffed, sitting up and aggressively stabbing his fork into his slice of strawberry shortcake. “You don’t get it, Suguru. He’s the only one who could’ve really boosted my application. Even with my grades and experience, it’s not enough to secure a spot on that big research project next semester. His reference would’ve sealed the deal.”

Suguru, still barely paying attention, hummed in response, now highlighting a passage in his book.

“And, as if that wasn’t already bad enough,” Satoru continued, shoving a bite of cake into his mouth, “I have to bring a plus-one. Why the hell does an academic event require a damn date? It’s not a gala—it’s a bunch of nerds talking about quantum mechanics and drinking overpriced champagne.” He scowled. “I swear, academia is just as elitist and outdated as—”

“You want those damn references so badly, but you don’t even know his name?” Suguru interrupted, finally setting his pen down and smirking. “Hell, even I know the guy’s name, and I’m in medicine.”

Satoru scoffed, mouth full of cake. “I do know his name. I just—forgot it for a second.”

“Right.” Suguru’s smirk widened. “It’s (Your Last Name).”

Satoru blinked mid-chew. The name struck something in his brain, familiar in a way that made his thoughts momentarily lag. His fork hovered in the air as his chewing slowed.

“…Wait.” He swallowed, licking some frosting off his thumb. “(Your Last Name)... That sounds…” His voice trailed off, something clicking into place in the back of his mind.

Suguru leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Yeah, actually. His niece is on campus. She’s studying psychology or something.”

Satoru’s fingers drummed absently against the table, his mind suddenly miles away from the conversation. The connection formed, settling into place as if it had been obvious all along.

“…Huh.” His voice was softer this time, almost thoughtful.

Suguru glanced up, noticing the shift in Satoru’s expression. “What?”

Satoru didn’t answer right away. He just leaned back slightly, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he stared off into the distance, brows furrowing ever so slightly—like a puzzle piece had just snapped into place.

“…Nothing,” he murmured, but the slight glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. Looks like his date problem was about to be solved in an instant.

—

By the time you finally heard back from Satoru Gojo, you’d already managed to secure a tutor. You’d given up on getting Satoru to find a place for you in his roster. He wasn’t your first choice—he charged a bit more than what the university’s tutor program usually offered—but he had done decently in the course you were struggling with. Honestly, he was your only option if you wanted to make any real progress before the semester was up.

You left your professor’s math class that day, once again feeling utterly defeated by the simplest concepts. The difference between open and closed brackets still felt like a mystery to you. With your mind focused entirely on making your first weekly payment to the tutor, you walked to the building with a sense of reluctant determination. You needed help, and you had to get started on this extra work right away if you even stood a chance of passing.

"Hey, you! (Name), right?" A deep voice called from behind, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned, momentarily surprised to see Satoru Gojo standing in front of you. This time, he was dressed in a white cable-knit sweater that mirrored the color of his ivory hair, paired with dark slacks that fit him perfectly. Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing those ridiculous dress shoes. 

You raised an eyebrow, still trying to process why he was here, especially after his nonchalant dismissal the last time you’d seen him. “Uh, yeah, that's me. What’s up?”

“Look, I finally found a place in my schedule to fit you in, so if you’d like, we can start by tonight. Just swing by the lib—”

“Thanks, but I’ve already found someone else,” you cut in, voice cool as you turn on your heel to walk away.

Behind you, there’s a sputtering noise, followed by a rushed, “Wait! It’s only been three days since you asked me—”

You don’t even bother looking back. “Actually, it’s been over a week. You were late to respond.” There’s an edge to your tone as you throw him an unimpressed glance over your shoulder. For the first time, you see it—his confident, untouchable demeanor slipping, just for a moment.

A beat of silence. Then—

“Look—I’ll tutor you for free. How’s that sound?”

You stop in your tracks, turning fully to face him now. “For free?” You repeat, disbelief written all over your face. “Why would you tutor me for free?”

Satoru scratches his jaw, eyes flickering away for the briefest second before returning to yours. “I mean, it’s just math. It’s not a big deal.”

You narrow your eyes. “It is a big deal. You were ready to drop me a week ago, and now you’re suddenly offering to help me for free? What changed?”

There’s a tiny quirk of his lips, almost like he’s trying not to smirk. “Maybe I just felt bad,” he says smoothly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

Satoru exhales through his nose, then leans in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Alright, fine. I need a favor.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “A favor?”

He rolls his eyes, like he’s annoyed he even has to explain. “The Laplace Physics Summit is next week.”

You blink. “Wait. That physics thing?”

Satoru presses his lips together like he’s holding back a pained noise. “Yes, ‘that physics thing.’ The biggest event of the year, featuring some of the most important names in the field. And, as it turns out, your uncle is hosting it.”

You pause, brows furrowing. “…I’m sorry, what?”

“Your uncle,” he repeats, like it’s obvious. “You know, Professor (Last Name)? The guy running the whole thing?”

Your blood runs cold. “How the hell do you know that?”

Satoru tilts his head, looking completely unbothered. “Oh, Suguru mentioned it the other day. Apparently, your uncle’s a pretty big deal in the field.”

You stare at him, unsettled. “And that didn’t seem like weird information for you to have? Who even is Suguru?”

“Oh, he’s my—”

“Actually, never mind—”

“Anyway, I need a date.”

You blink. “You need a what.”

“A date,” he repeats, as if you’re the slow one. “It’s a plus-one event, and my original date bailed. So, I figured… since I’m offering to tutor you for free, you could do me a solid and come with me.”

You gape at him. “Are you seriously trying to bribe me into being your date with calculus lessons?”

Satoru places a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Bribe is such an ugly word. I prefer mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“You are actually unbelievable,” you say, half in awe, half in exasperation.

He grins. “I get that a lot.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, inhaling slowly. “And why, exactly, do you need a date?”

“Because,” he says, sighing dramatically, “the professor I need to impress, your uncle—the one who could get me a spot in a major research project—will be there, and I can’t show up alone like some tragic loser. Also you’re his niece. Ya never know— he’ll associate me with you, his precious niece, and then—”

You squint at him. “That’s the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, it’s my reason,” he says, flashing an infuriatingly charming smile.

You groan. On one hand, this was ridiculous. On the other hand… Well, free tutoring.

“...Fine,” you mutter begrudgingly. “But if you bail on tutoring even once, I’m out.”

Satoru beams, looking way too pleased with himself. “Deal.”

Satoru claps his hands together, looking far too smug for your liking. “Great. The event is at the start of next month, so make sure you clear your schedule.”

Your eye twitches. “The start of next month? You do know that’s like— a short while before my assessment for this stupid class, right?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’ as he rocks back on his heels, ignoring your bewildered question about whether he’s aware of the nearly-there clash between the two events.“Plenty of time to find something nice to wear. I assume you own a dress?” You cross your arms. 

“Yes, I own a dress. But I don’t see why it matters. It’s a physics event, not a gala. And you didn’t answer my previous question.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he says, wagging a finger at you. “Physics people love a little pretentious grandeur. This thing’s gonna be fancy. And don’t worry too much about your assessment , you’ll be fine, you have me as your tutor.” 

You scoff. “God, you people are ridiculous.” He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You people? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You physics nerds,” you say, rolling your eyes. He huffs. “I’ll have you know, we’re highly sophisticated individuals. Not nerds.”

“You literally run the physics society.”

Satoru’s grin turns downright smug. “Oh? So you were researching me, huh?” He leans in slightly, minty breath hitting your face, as he tilts his head as if he’s just made the most amusing discovery of the day.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t researching you, I was just—”

“Keeping tabs? Taking notes? Secretly obsessed?” he cuts in smoothly, his smirk widening as if he’s caught you red-handed. You scoff, crossing your arms. “What? No! Everyone knows that, it’s not some big secret—”

“Well, you didn’t know who I was the day the professor introduced me to you,” he cuts in smoothly, his smirk widening as if he’s just caught you in a trap. Your mouth opens, then closes as you glare at him. “That’s because I had better things to do than memorize the entire student faculty—”

“But now you know,” he teases, winking. “Sounds like someone took a special interest.” You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. 

“You’re like really fucking annoying.”

 Satoru clicks his tongue. “You wound me, truly.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll go. But I swear, if I have to listen to a two-hour lecture about quantum mechanics, I’m out.” 

“Two hours?” he says, grinning. “Oh no, sweetheart. It’s an all-day thing.”

 You groan. “Kill me now.” 

He laughs, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Hey, you agreed to it. No backing out now.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You glare at him, but he just smiles wider.“Anyway,” he continues, “now that that’s settled, we can start tutoring tonight.”

You blink. “Wait, tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “What, you thought I was just gonna let you slack off until the event? You said you needed to pass, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then I’ll see you at the library at six.”

You frown. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet, you agreed to be my date.”

You groan, already regretting everything.

– 

Heading down to the library at 5:58 pm, you quicken your pace, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above guiding your way. The evening air is crisp, and the faint rustle of leaves outside accompanies your hurried steps. You push through the sliding glass doors, muttering to yourself the study room number he had texted you earlier. Room 204, room 204, don’t mess this up.

When you finally arrive, you pause briefly before pushing open the door. The soft sound of your shoes on the tile echoes through the quiet library. Inside, you find Satoru already seated, sprawled out lazily in one of the chairs at the table, his legs casually stretched out. A few books are haphazardly scattered across the desk in front of him, but his bored expression suggests he hasn’t even touched them. His eyes lock onto you as soon as you enter, a lazy grin stretching across his face.

“Took ya long enough…” he says, his voice teasing but not without that usual cocky undertone. You scowl in response, rolling your eyes as you walk over to the chair across from him. Without a word, you drop your bag to the floor with a thud, letting it slide to rest next to the leg of the table. As you start pulling out your compiled notes and textbooks, you can feel his gaze lingering on you, but you ignore it, focusing on setting up your materials.

Satoru leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head as if he’s not planning to do any work at all. You can already tell this session isn’t going to be as easy as you’d hoped.

You settle in across from Satoru, pulling your textbook toward you, but you can already feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Satoru stretches, yawning as he slides a few of the books into a more organized pile. He leans forward slightly, placing his hand flat on the table.

“Alright, let’s get started. So, what are we working with today?” He asks, his voice unusually soft and focused. Huh, maybe you were wrong about this session being hard due to his–as you’d observed in a short period of time–overbearing presence. You hesitate for a moment, not sure whether to admit how lost you are, but then decide it’s better to just dive in.

“I’ve been struggling with— well, all of it, really. But open and closed domains? We covered that today, and I can’t make sense of it.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Really? That’s where you’re getting stuck? Okay, fine. Let me break it down for you.” 

You shift in your chair, ready to just get it over with. You’re sure he’ll make this harder than it needs to be, but when he flips open his own textbook, something about his demeanor changes. He’s not the lazy, teasing guy you’ve seen in the past. This is Satoru Gojo, the star pupil, the one your professor raves about. He flips through the pages with practiced ease, scanning the definitions and examples like it’s second nature to him.

“Okay, let’s talk about open and closed domains. Imagine you have a function—let’s say it’s f(x). Now, a domain is simply the set of all x-values that you can plug into the function to get a real output. For a function to be defined at a certain point, the domain needs to include that value, right?”

You nod slowly, trying to keep up. Satoru doesn’t pause for you to confirm, as if he’s used to explaining things in a way that makes sense immediately.

“Now, closed domains are a bit different from open ones. A closed domain includes the boundary points. For example, think about a set of x-values that go from 1 to 5. If we’re talking about a closed domain, 1 and 5 are included in the set. But with an open domain, those boundary values—1 and 5—are excluded.”

He looks up at you now, studying your face. “It’s like—imagine you’re playing a game, and the rules say you can only play between two points, but you can’t touch the boundary line. Open domain means you stay inside the line. Closed domain means you can touch it.”

You glance down at your notes, scribbling down what he’s said, and—begrudgingly—you begin to see it. His explanation isn’t half-bad. In fact, it’s kind of good. You look up at him, surprised.

“That actually makes sense,” you admit, surprised at how easily the concept is starting to click.

He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. I told you I was good at this. Now, let’s work through a couple of examples.”

Satoru starts working through problems with you, and to your shock, he’s methodical and clear. Every time you begin to falter, he’s there to steer you back on track with just the right amount of guidance, not too much and not too little. At first, you’re convinced he’s just showing off, but the more he explains, the more you realize he’s actually a good teacher.

You watch as his hands move over the paper, effortlessly solving equations and sketching graphs, his eyes narrowing in concentration. There’s something almost hypnotic about the way he works, and it’s hard not to feel impressed.

“That’s it,” he says, finishing the last example and leaning back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction. “You got it?”

You blink, staring at the last problem he just solved. There’s no way you would’ve figured it out without his help. You run through the steps in your mind, piecing them together.

“Yeah,” you admit, still slightly in awe. “I think I do.”

Satoru leans across the table slightly, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “Told you I was the best tutor around. I’m glad I could help.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the bit of respect you feel. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He flashes a grin. “Too late.”

You sit back in your chair, trying to hide the fact that you’re actually kind of relieved. The hour of tutoring, despite your reluctance at first, has actually been pretty productive. Maybe, just maybe, Satoru Gojo wasn’t such a bad choice after all.

—

So, you continued seeing Satoru three times a week, and while you never quite got used to his cocky smirks or the way he made everything seem so easy, you did have to admit something: you were getting better. Slowly but surely, those little annoying math concepts that used to make your brain hurt began to make sense. But the closer you got to the assessment date, the more you realized how much you still had to cover.

It was the last session of the week, and you were sitting across from Satoru in your usual study room. You had your notes spread out, your mind slightly on edge, because you knew your major assessment was coming up soon, and you couldn’t afford to screw this up.

“Hey, Satoru,” you said, trying to get his attention as he absently flipped through some of his own notes. “My assessment is soon, and I feel like there’s so much left to cover. Can we go over the most important topics today?”

He looked up at you, tilting his head slightly. “Oh, right. Well, then I guess we’d better make the most of our time.” His voice carried that usual teasing note, but you could see the gleam of focus in his eyes now. “Okay, let’s run through the list of things you need to cover, then. We’ve got about a few more weeks, so we need a game plan.”

You sighed, bracing yourself for his long list of topics. Satoru made a show of flipping through his notes, tapping the page with his pen as he began ticking off a mental list.

“Alright, first up: derivatives. I know you’ve got the basic rules down, but we’re gonna need to dive into higher-order derivatives, implicit differentiation, and how to apply them to real-world problems.” You nodded, mentally ticking off the topics as he listed them.

“Then we’ll move on to integration—yeah, I know, everyone’s favorite.” He paused dramatically, glancing over at you with a sly grin. “You can’t avoid it forever. We need to focus on definite and indefinite integrals, and by the end of the week, I want you to be able to solve some real-world area problems without breaking a sweat.”

He glanced at you again, eyebrow raised. “That’s the goal, right?”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to tease him back. “You make it sound easy.”

“Don’t act so defeated,” he said, his tone mocking but with that edge of encouragement. “Next on the list: the chain rule, product rule, and quotient rule. You need those down to get through most calculus problems. He held up a finger. “We’re gonna need that for optimization problems and rates of change, you know?”

“Uh huh, yeah, I remember those.” You didn’t sound convincing, and he noticed, of course.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go over them until you can do them in your sleep,” he said, his voice full of self-assurance. “I’m not gonna let you fail.”

You stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

He grinned. “Absolutely. But let’s not forget about limits. We need to nail down continuity, indeterminate forms, and L'Hopital's Rule.”

“Great, already dreading the limits part,” you muttered under your breath. The word alone was enough to make your eyes glaze over.

He gave you an exaggerated pout. “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. Limits are sexy.”

You shot him a look. “That’s... definitely not how I’d describe them. Are you touched in the head?”

“You’ll change your mind when you get to the part where you can apply limits to real-world problems. Trust me, they’re essential for understanding everything else.” He tapped the table, narrowing his eyes at your notes. 

“Fantastic. So, just about everything?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, I’m just being thorough,” he said with a shrug, clearly enjoying this moment. “Okay, next up, we have related rates. Those are a little more complex, but if you know how to use the chain rule with those, you’ll be golden. I’ll walk you through the steps, don’t worry.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything else?”

“Well, we’ll cover the series and sequences next. Don’t stress too much about that one. It’s only a small part of the exam, but still—be sure you understand the basics. The rest is easy.”

“I’m not stressed at all,” you said flatly, though your shoulders tensed. “I’m perfectly calm.”

“Liar,” Satoru teased. He shot you a glance, his eyes scanning your face before he smirked again. “Don’t worry. You’ve got this.”

You couldn’t help but huff. “Sure, if you say so.”

For the next hour or so, Satoru worked through problems with you, his explanation style easy and clear despite his teasing tone. Each time you stumbled, he patiently walked you through the process without making you feel like an idiot. You still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were wasting his time, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it more and more as the day went on, his playful attitude never faltering.

After you’d worked through some derivatives and integrals, Satoru leaned back in his chair, stretching and cracking his knuckles. “Alright, so that’s all for today. You feeling better about it? We can continue working on the mentioned topics in the coming weeks, so all the mathematical foundation you need is nice and sturdy before your assessment.”

“I guess,” you said, rubbing your temples. “I still don’t get why I had to pick math as my breadth subject to pass this damn major.”

“Because you needed to be a well-rounded person,” Satoru replied, his tone so serious that it almost sounded like he was delivering life advice. But the unbridled amusement in his eyes gave him away.

“Right. Because optimization and rates of change are so crucial to my future career as a psychologist,” you said, raising an eyebrow, the sarcasm practically oozing from your voice.

Satoru smirked but didn’t miss a beat. “Well, maybe it’s all about problem-solving, right? Psychologists need to understand behavior patterns, deal with people’s emotional highs and lows... kind of like understanding how a function behaves.” He leaned back in his chair, pretending to be deep in thought. “It’s all about analyzing change.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying not to laugh. "So, I’m supposed to relate solving equations to figuring out why people deal with schizophrenia or alzheimers?”

He shrugged with a grin. “You never know. Maybe one day you’ll be solving for the rate of emotional change in a distressed patient.”

You shook your head in disbelief but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Okay, maybe I’ll give you that one. But don't get too cocky, Satoru. I’m still a long way from ‘ready.’”

He leaned in just slightly, his gaze sharp and confident. “I’m never cocky. Just confident,” he said with that signature, arrogant grin.

There was a brief moment where his eyes held yours, and you could sense that there was more to his words than just confidence. It almost felt like he truly believed in you, even if you weren’t sure you believed in yourself just yet.

You grabbed your things, the weight of the assessment still heavy on your mind, but somehow, you felt a little lighter. Maybe it was the way he’d made you feel a bit more capable in this strange, frustrating subject. You turned toward Satoru as he packed up his things, meeting his gaze for just a second longer than usual. 

Hm. Okay yeah, dress shoes or not, he’s definitely cute.

—

A few more weeks had passed and you continued grinding out the topics for your exam with Satoru during your tri-weekly tutoring sessions. The looming assessment still weighed on your mind, but now, there was something else to focus on. You had agreed—begrudgingly—to attend the Laplace Institute Annual Summit with Satoru. But honestly, ever since Satoru started tutoring you, things were beginning to click in a way they never had before. The jumble of words in your professor’s class that used to confuse you? They were finally starting to make sense. You were beginning to understand calculus—actually, get it. And truthfully, just attending the event with Satoru didn’t seem like enough of a payment for what he’d done. You’d never admit that to him, though; the cocky bastard would probably start joking about charging you more.

But it did make sense, in a way. After all, your uncle was a big name in the physics department, and you’d grown up with him. The guy was somewhat fond of you, so maybe you could throw Satoru a bone and put in a good word for him. Begrudgingly, of course. Because despite his irritatingly confident demeanor, he really had helped improve your math skills in ways you never expected.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when your phone pinged, the notification lighting up the screen. With an exasperated sigh, you saw it was Satoru. Of course. Ever since this guy had gotten your number (which he claimed it was to send you important reminders about classes), he would send you some stupid calculus related meme or some mistake he’d found in the small amount of extra homework he gave you, making fun of them. Did this guy not realize he was your tutor? He texted you like you two were old friends or something.

You rolled your eyes, but then shrugged it off. Whatever, it could be worse. At least he wasn’t some overly serious, nonchalant asshole. You were pretty sure that would be far less bearable than his current mix of cocky arrogance, with just the right amount of humor that made him... well, kind of entertaining, you had to admit. You set aside your coffee, grabbing your phone.

Elsa’s evil physics twin:

hihi! so, what’s the colour of your dress for tomorrow’s event? (* ^ ω ^)

Emoticons? Seriously? Isn’t he the future of physics or something?

You:

And the colour of my dress matters why…?

Elsa’s evil physics twin:

erm, of course it matters! <(￣︶￣)> i can't have you showing up looking like a weirdo?? seriously, is it floral, patterned, striped?? idk just tell me what it looks like so i can match with you (￣ω￣)

You:

It’s just navy blue. No patterns or anything. Is that okay? And it’s formal enough. Also, you don’t need to worry about me looking weird, believe it or not I actually do know how to get ready >:(

Elsa’s evil physics twin:

gasp! is that an emoji? wowow youre finally showing me sum reaction ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ but ok yes navy blue is vv good. have a suit thats navy blue, so we can match! yay! (≧◡≦)

A small smile cracks at your lips at the way he types. Okay, wait, why the fuck are you smiling? You hurriedly type back.

You:

You and these weird ass emojis. But ig we can match…

Elsa’s evil physics twin:

(￣ω￣) u dont get it…but see u then ^_^ and please don’t forget to do all the homework from yesterday's class. you left a few questions out last time :p

Sighing, you grabbed your now lukewarm coffee, your thoughts drifting to tomorrow’s event. With university dragging you under, you hadn’t had a chance to prepare at all. The ridiculous math breadth subject, combined with the extra tutoring sessions with Satoru, had consumed all your time. You were so focused on coursework that you’d be lucky if you could even remember where you’d stashed your makeup the last time you used it. But honestly, it wasn’t that you were bad at getting ready—far from it. University just had a way of turning you into a lazy bum.

Tomorrow arrived with a sharp, unwelcome edge, slicing through the fragile peace of your sleep. You woke with a gnawing sense of anxiety coiled in your chest, its weight pressing down as you tried to shake off the remnants of a restless night. At least the event wasn’t until the evening, giving you hours to untangle the irrational worries that had taken root in your mind like stubborn weeds.

What if you showed up looking exactly like the kind of physics nerd who belonged at this gathering, only to have some brilliant researcher corner you and demand your thoughts on thermodynamics? You could barely spell it, let alone hold a conversation about it. Or worse—what if you didn’t look the part at all? What if everyone glanced your way, their eyes narrowing as they wondered why Satoru Gojo, of all people, had brought a psychology student as his plus one? The thought of being judged, of not measuring up, made your stomach churn.

And then there was your uncle. God, your uncle. A titan in the field of physics, a man whose name carried weight in every room he entered. You could already picture it—him making a grand spectacle of your presence, his booming voice drawing every eye in the room as he introduced you like you were still the awkward kid who’d once tripped over their own feet at a family reunion. He wasn’t cruel, not really, but he had a way of reducing you to a caricature, a punchline in his stories. Like purely in a oh-I-love-my-niece-she’s-a-good-kid type of way. The last thing you needed was him dredging up some mortifying childhood anecdote in front of Satoru’s colleagues, people whose respect he was clearly trying to earn.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. The day stretched ahead of you, a minefield of potential embarrassments, and all you could do was brace yourself and hope you’d make it through without completely humiliating yourself—or worse, Satoru.

The hours slipped away like sand through your fingers, and before you knew it, the event was looming just a couple of hours ahead. You could no longer avoid the inevitable—it was time to get ready. With a sigh, you pushed aside the math homework Satoru had assigned you and turned your attention to the closet. There it was, tucked away in the back like a forgotten relic: the navy dress. You hadn’t worn it in ages, and for a moment, you hesitated, wondering if it would even fit. But as you slipped it on, you were pleasantly surprised. It hugged your figure in all the right places, a stark contrast to the baggy sweaters, comfy skirts with built-in shorts (truly a gift to humanity), and oversized sweats that had become your second skin over the past few months. For the first time in a while, you actually felt… put together.

You decided to actually make an effort, doing your hair neatly and applying a bit of makeup. You wondered. Would you stand out like a sore thumb? Satoru had mentioned the event was full of pretentious people, and your mind conjured images of sleek, impeccably dressed individuals who probably had their makeup done by professionals and their outfits tailored to perfection. Compared to them, you felt… ordinary. But then again, maybe that was okay. Maybe blending in wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Or maybe it was.

You groaned, running a hand through your freshly styled hair. If there was an award for overthinking, you’d already have a trophy case full of gold medals. Nationals? Please. You’d be sweeping the international circuit by now.

The ringing of your phone shattered the fragile calm you’d managed to scrape together, and you scowled at the screen before reluctantly pressing ‘Accept.’ Satoru’s voice immediately filled the room, whining like a child who’d been told they couldn’t have dessert.

“I’m outside,” he announced, as if that explained everything.

Your eyebrows shot up. “How the hell do you even know where I live?” you shot back, your tone dripping with suspicion.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “You look like a broke college student, so I assumed it was the female dorms. Took a wild guess. Now hurry up, I’ve already been stood up before, and I don’t wanna be late either.”

“Ouch?” you snapped, clutching the phone tighter. “First of all, rude. Second of all, you’re lucky I’m even coming to this thing. Third of all, stood up? Who in their right mind would stand you up? Actually, scratch that—I can think of a few reasons.”

Satoru laughed, the sound low and annoyingly smooth. “Aw, come on, don’t be like that. You’re my plus one, remember? That means you’re legally obligated to think I’m charming.”

“Legally obligated?” you repeated, deadpan. “Pretty sure that’s not a thing. Also, I’m pretty sure I signed zero paperwork agreeing to that.”

“Well, you should’ve read the fine print,” he shot back, his tone teasing. “Besides, I’ve been giving you free tutoring lessons for weeks. The least you could do is show up and pretend to like me for one night. “Now, are you coming down, or do I have to come up and drag you out myself? Because I will. And trust me, you don’t want your dorm neighbors seeing that.”

You groaned, glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time. “Ugh, fine. I’m coming. But if you make one more comment about me looking like a broke college student, I’m ditching you at this thing and taking the free food with me.”

“Noted,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. 

“You’re such a dork.”

“A dork who’s about to be late because someone’s taking forever,” he sing-songed. “Tick-tock, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess,” you grumbled, slamming your door shut behind you. “And for the record, if anyone asks, I’m here under duress.”

“Duress, huh?” he said, his voice dropping into that infuriatingly flirty tone that always made your stomach do weird things. “I’ll have to remember that. Sounds kinky.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you hissed, finally stepping out of your dorm building, the cool evening air brushing against your skin as you adjusted the strap of your bag. And there he was—Satoru, leaning casually against his car like he’d just walked off the set of some high-budget action movie. The streetlights cast a soft glow on him, and for a moment, you just stared.

He was wearing a navy blue suit, and it looked good on him. Like, really good. You were used to seeing him in those expensive cashmere sweaters and slacks he always wore, the ones that gave off major nerd vibes despite the price tags. But this? This was different. The suit fit him perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to his waist in a way that made your brain short-circuit for a second. These slacks he wore, where the sweater wasn’t covering the material, were hugging his muscled thighs, the view of his long legs was an almost sinful sight. The crisp white shirt underneath was buttoned just enough to be proper, but the way he’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows revealed the faint definition of his forearms, and—okay, you needed to stop staring.

Satoru’s eyes flicked up as you approached, and you could feel his gaze sweeping over you, taking in the navy dress you’d dug out of your closet. You missed the way his eyes lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary on the exposed tops of your breasts, the neckline very slightly low, not too low to be scandalous, but enough that it merely complimented the elegance of the dress. You unsurprisingly also missed the slight tilt of his head as if he were committing the sight to memory, cheeks a bit pink. But true to form, he didn’t say a word about it, his sharp blue eyes slipping back up to your face immediately. Instead, he pushed off the car and opened the passenger door for you, his usual smirk playing on his lips.

“Took you long enough,” he said. “I was starting to think you’d bailed.”

“I didn’t even take that long, you just arrived without telling me” you shot back, sliding into the seat. 

He snickered, closing the door behind you before walking around to the driver’s side. You couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him as he moved—confident, effortless, like he owned every space he was in. The navy suit brought out the sharpness of his features, and you had to admit, it was a good look on him.

When he slid into the seat beside you, the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and spicy—filled the car, and you had to force yourself to look out the window to avoid staring.

“Looking good, by the way,” he said, his eyes raking over you in a way that made you want to both punch him and preen at the same time. “Navy’s your color. Very ‘I’m here to network but also maybe ruin your life.’”

“Thanks?” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“Jeez, take the compliment,” Satoru says with his trademark shit-eating grin. You roll your eyes, but there's that tiny smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Fine, compliment accepted,” you mumble, trying to act indifferent about it. “And, uh, you... you look good too.” You say it quickly, almost too quickly, and then want to immediately take it back because his grin widens even more.

“Aw, so you're finding your tutor cute now?” he teases, leaning in a little like he’s making his point. “I’ll have you know that’s a breach of the professional code of conduct.”

You laugh, but it's more out of annoyance than anything else. “You are so full of yourself,” you retort, not even bothering to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“What can I say?” He shrugs, eyes gleaming like he’s basking in the glory of his own existence. “It’s a blessing and a curse. I mean, who wouldn’t want a tutor as amazing as me? You’re lucky to even be in my presence.”

“Oh yeah, I’m just counting my lucky stars,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “I’ll send thank-you cards every day. I mean, I just don’t know how I’m living without your genius in my life.”

Satoru smirks, leaning in like he’s about to drop some profound truth on you. “Exactly. See? You’re starting to get it.” Then he pauses and gives you a pointed look. “And you know what? If you’re going to be so grateful, I might just start charging you for all this expertise.”

“Ugh, no way. If anything, you should be paying me for having to listen to that ridiculous ego of yours,” you quip, arms crossed, but it’s clear you’re not too bothered. You can’t help but be amused.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” he replies, leaning back and grinning like he’s already won the debate. “You’ll thank me when you’re acing that assessment. And when you finally do, you’ll owe me a favor. Preferably one that doesn’t involve just putting up with me.”

“Ha! Yeah, not gonna happen. I’ll survive without owing you anything,” you say, giving him a side-eye, but it’s hard to hide your smile.

“Well, if you insist,” he teases. “But let’s be real. I’m here to save your ass, so you’ll eventually be grateful. Maybe not right now, but later.”

You scoff, throwing a pointed look at him when you remember. how insufferably cocky he’d been at the start.    “ I still haven’t forgotten how you oh-so-smugly declined me in front of the professor when I first asked for help.”

“Oh, you’re still hung up on that?” Satoru grins, clearly unbothered. “Look, I had my reasons.”

Satoru’s grin widens as he steals another glance at you, his eyes clearly not staying focused on the road. “Oh, come on now, you’re enjoying hanging out with me, aren’t you?” The grin practically drips off his words, and you can feel his gaze lingering on you.

You stiffen, the heat creeping up your neck. “Dude, seriously? We’re gonna fucking crash if you don’t keep your eyes on the road,” you snap, your grip tightening on the seatbelt as you instinctively glance at the winding road ahead.

Satoru just laughs, barely glancing back at the road as he’s too busy watching you, or rather, unbeknownst to you, the way the seat belt presses in between your tits just right, he’s half hard from the sight⸺

 “Nah, I’ve got it under control. We will not fucking crash, as you so politely put it. I’m a professional,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. His gaze flicks over you again, subtly, so you don’t notice like you did before, his smirk never wavering. “Besides, I like to think I’m pretty good at multitasking.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should focus on not dying first, and then we can talk about your damn skills,” you grumble. Satoru just chuckles, seemingly unfazed by your annoyance. “Oh, come on, we’re practically invincible. Besides, you’re not the one with your foot on the gas, are you?” His tone is teasing, a little too smooth, as if he’s enjoying every moment of your discomfort. 

“You’re too much, Satoru. M’tired of talking to you already.” You say annoyedly, rubbing at your temple. You’d be lucky if you didn’t have a headache right before even stepping foot into the event.

“Oh, so now I’m too much for you? Not even a little tempted to flirt back?” He lets out a low chuckle, and you can hear the amusement in his voice as he glances at you, almost as if waiting for you to crack.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “I’m not interested, Satoru. Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I see. Playing hard to get now, huh?” He grins even wider, looking smug as ever. “Well, I guess you’re not all that bad. But you’re right, this mostly is for your uncle. You can’t even pretend it’s not.”

You roll your eyes, trying to avoid looking at him. “I’m sure he’s just thrilled you’re making all this effort.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, clearly pleased with himself. “Your uncle’s a big deal. I mean, you are too, obviously.” He adds that last part with a wink. You sigh, already gearing up to tell him to shut up for once in his damn life, but before you can get a word out, the car slows to a stop. He’s parking. You glance out the window, and immediately, your stomach drops.

Oh. Oh, shit.

You really shouldn’t have underestimated it when Satoru said this event was fancy because—fuck—this place looked like something out of a goddamn royal gala, not a physics convention. A fleeting thought crossed your mind—your university would go this far for the physics department?

Satoru must have caught onto your expression because he lets out a snicker, running a hand through his white hair as he checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. “You look too nervous, (Name). Relax. You look good.”

You absentmindedly nod, too preoccupied with scanning the entrance to process his words fully. “I’m just worried they’re gonna ask me, like—dunno, stupid questions about physics. D’you think they’ll do that, S’toru?” You unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the center console to check your reflection in the rearview mirror, your arm brushing against his.

He doesn’t move away.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, voice lower now, like you’re sharing a secret. “You just gotta follow me around ‘n look pretty.”

You scoff, but you don’t pull away either. The scent of his cologne fills the space between you, something warm and expensive, and—damn, okay, you weren’t going to acknowledge that it smelled good.

Your eyes flicker down, catching something dangling from his bag.

“Digimon? Seriously?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah? What, you thought I was a Pokémon guy?”

You hum, pretending to think about it, eyes still on the keychain. “No, I just thought you were too busy being an arrogant shit to like, y’know… enjoy childhood.”

Satoru lets out a dramatic gasp, hand over his heart like you just mortally wounded him. “Excuse you, I was an incredibly cool child.”

“Mm. Sure.”

Instead of letting it go like a normal person, Satoru suddenly leans back in his seat and exhales like he’s about to drop some divine wisdom. “Look, I get it. Pokémon’s got the branding, the cute little creatures, the world domination or whatever. But Digimon? It had actual stakes. It had complex storylines, deep character arcs, existential crises. You ever seen a Pikachu struggle with the concept of mortality?”

You blink. “I—what?”

“Exactly! You haven’t! But Digimon? Those little guys were out there dealing with real emotional trauma. They had proper relationships with their partners, their evolutions weren’t just a quick level grind, they had to earn it, mentally and emotionally.” He’s animated now, hands moving as he talks, like this is the most important debate of his life. “Meanwhile, Ash’s Pikachu has been level 100 for decades, and he still somehow gets his ass kicked by a level five Snivy—”

A snicker escapes you, and Satoru pauses, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re such a nerd in every aspect of your life, it’s insane,” you say, shaking your head. “Physics? Nerd. Math? Nerd. And now you’re out here writing your imaginary PhD thesis on Digimon?” He simply shakes his head, as if trying to act like you simply don’t get it.

Walking into the venue, you were met with the low hum of conversation, the quiet clinking of glasses, and the kind of polished atmosphere that made you instinctively straighten your posture. The architecture was grand—vaulted ceilings, intricate chandeliers casting soft light over well-dressed academics and researchers, some of whom you recognized from your university’s faculty page. You had expected formal, but this was something else entirely.

“I think I’m underdressed,” you muttered, your eyes flickering across the crowd.

Satoru, walking half a step ahead of you, scoffed. “You’re fine. More than fine, actually.”

You gave him a dry look, but before you could quip back, he suddenly glanced down at you, and for some reason, it threw you off.

Because he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Why hadn’t you realised that earlier?

It wasn’t as if you had never seen him without them before, but in this lighting, with the sharp cut of his suit and the way his hair fell just slightly over his forehead, it was… different. Distracting, almost. You blinked, forcing yourself to focus.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Satoru tilted his head slightly, amused. “No, I’m not.”

You cleared your throat, looking away. “Didn’t realize you had normal-people eyes.” That was a lie. You’d never seen a shade of blue like the ones in his eyes before.

He huffed out a laugh. “Hurtful. But I figured I’d give my contacts a chance to shine.”

You shook your head, but before you could dwell on it any further, you spotted a familiar figure near one of the seating areas. Your uncle.

Straightening slightly, you gestured toward him. “There he is.”

Satoru followed your gaze, expression shifting into something more measured.

As you approached, your uncle glanced up from his drink, expression shifting into mild surprise as he took you in. “You? At a physics event?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a trace of amusement. “Did you finally come to your senses and switch majors?”

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, no. I’m just here as a plus one.” You tilted your head toward Satoru. “Uncle, this is Satoru Gojo.”

Satoru extended his hand, the easy arrogance he usually carried dialed back into something more measured. “It’s a pleasure, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your uncle took his hand, shaking it firmly, his sharp gaze scanning Satoru with the quiet scrutiny that came with years in academia. “Likewise. You’re the one working with Professor Ishida, aren’t you?”

Satoru nodded smoothly. “That’s right. I’ve been involved in his applied mathematics research, particularly in computational modeling for dynamic systems. We’ve been focusing on optimizing algorithms for predicting complex, non-linear interactions—mostly for fluid dynamics and quantum mechanics applications.”

You blinked. Oh. That was… different. The Satoru Gojo you knew—the one who constantly sent you texts filled with stupid memes and gave you a hard time over your math skills—was suddenly gone. The man standing next to you now was composed, articulate, and ridiculously competent.

And, god help you, it was kind of hot.

Your uncle’s interest was piqued, and he gave Satoru an approving nod. “Good. Ishida’s work is highly regarded. Have you contributed anything substantial to the current model?”

Satoru didn’t hesitate. “I’ve been refining the predictive simulations for turbulence modeling. The existing approach had inefficiencies that caused errors when applied to high-energy systems, so I introduced a correction factor—essentially adjusting the statistical weightings of boundary interactions—which cut down the error margins by nearly twenty percent.”

Your uncle hummed, clearly impressed. “A twenty percent improvement is no small feat. And what are your thoughts on integrating AI-driven neural networks into these models?”

You had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, but Satoru’s expression flickered with genuine interest. “I think it’s promising but still premature. The current machine learning approaches lack interpretability, which is critical in predictive modeling for physical phenomena. Black-box solutions might give us results, but they don’t always tell us why—especially in chaotic systems. That’s the gap we need to bridge.”

Your uncle gave him a slow nod, eyes glinting with approval. “Smart. I take it you’re looking for further opportunities in research?”

Satoru inclined his head slightly, his smile now polite rather than cocky. “That’s the goal. I’d like to work under someone with deeper expertise, someone who can challenge my approach and push me to refine my methods. I’ve been particularly interested in the high-energy systems project your department has been supporting. The way it’s integrating advanced computational modeling with experimental physics is exactly the kind of work I’d want to be involved in.”

Your uncle’s expression shifted just slightly—intrigued, but measured. “That project is highly selective. We’re looking for people who can think beyond traditional modeling constraints, who understand not just the math, but the physics behind the equations.”

Satoru didn’t miss a beat. “That’s what makes it worth pursuing. The current methodologies rely too much on classical approximations, which are great until you start dealing with extreme conditions—then the models break down. I’ve been working on a way to bridge that gap, making the calculations more adaptable without losing accuracy.”

(a/n: this part took me two days just so it’d sound coherent)

Your uncle considered this for a moment before giving a small nod. “Well, we’ll see what can be arranged.”

You exhaled quietly. That was as close to an open door as anyone got from him.

As your uncle excused himself to greet another colleague, you exhaled, barely resisting the urge to shake off the strange, lingering heat in your body. You hadn’t expected to find Satoru’s sudden professionalism attractive—yet there you were, feeling an unwelcome pull toward the way he had so effortlessly commanded the conversation.

You turned to him, attempting to focus on something else—anything else—but the sharp intellect that had just been on full display. “Look at you—talking research proposals and theoretical applications like you weren’t the same guy who spent half our sessions drawing stupid little hearts in the margins of my notes.”

Satoru huffed out a quiet laugh, his hands sliding casually into his pockets, but there was something different now—his usual lazy confidence had been sharpened into something smoother, more deliberate. “What can I say? I have layers.” He glanced down at you, eyes flickering with something unreadable before his smirk deepened. “Besides, I really needed your uncle’s help.”

You crossed your arms, ignoring the way your pulse had started ticking a little too fast. “Right. That’s all this is.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Mostly.”

Something about the way he said it made your breath catch. It wasn’t a full admission, but it wasn’t a denial either. And when his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes this time—when there was something almost considering the way he looked at you—you suddenly realized just how close the two of you were standing.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “you looked real interested back there. Could’ve sworn you liked hearing me talk like that.”

You scoffed, desperate to shake off the sudden intensity of the moment. “I liked that you finally sounded like someone with a brain.”

Satoru let out a low chuckle, and then—before you could react—he leaned in, just enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the faintest brush of his breath against your skin. “You’re not very good at lying.”

“Funny,” you murmured, arching a brow. “Who's the one breaching professional conduct now?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, his voice dipping lower. “I don’t remember professionalism being part of our dynamic.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep your face neutral despite the heat creeping up your neck. “I do. And I’d like to keep it that way, so if you’re done entertaining whatever nonsense you were about to say, I’d appreciate some space.”

He stayed there for just a second longer, gaze heavy, assessing. Then, as if sensing just how rattled you really were, he grinned—lazy, smug, but undeniably pleased.

“Sure thing, cutie,” he murmured, stepping back like it was nothing.

And with that, he turned, heading toward the next part of the event like he hadn’t just left you standing there, heartbeat a little too fast, breath a little too uneven, wondering what the hell had just happened.

The event continued around you, but your attention was nowhere near the people mingling or the endless discussions of research you barely understood. You found yourself trailing behind Satoru like some kind of shadow, moving silently through the crowd. He was effortlessly charming everyone he came into contact with, his charisma filling the room as though he’d been born for these kinds of events. You half-wondered if he was putting on a show just for you.

Every time you caught yourself looking at him, you’d quickly look away, pretending like the flutter in your chest didn’t exist. It was hard not to notice how natural he looked here, with his casual confidence, mingling with colleagues and effortlessly slipping in and out of conversations like he belonged everywhere. People gravitated toward him, pulled in by his warmth and wit, and you were left hovering just out of the spotlight, clutching your drink like a lifeline.

You couldn’t tell if it was because you were so out of your element, or if it was because of him, but every time he glanced back at you, that tiny smirk creeping back onto his lips, you felt the heat rise to your face. He knew exactly what he was doing, effortlessly pulling you into his orbit without saying a word.

At some point, you found yourself standing at the edge of a conversation between Satoru and a group of physicists discussing some new model they’d been working on. You couldn’t follow half of what they were saying, but Satoru? He was holding his own, nodding along, asking questions, contributing like he was as much a part of the conversation as anyone else in the room.

And then, out of nowhere, he glanced at you over his shoulder, catching your eye. “You’re awfully quiet over there,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just been discussing complex theories with people who had dedicated their entire lives to this.

You raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just... observing.”

“Observing, huh?” Satoru's voice dropped to a playful lilt as he glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “You can just say you’re bored, you know. Honestly, I’m getting a bit tired of all these serious faces myself. Was really here for your uncle, anyway.” He waved a dismissive hand, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his words.

With a shift in his posture, he gracefully slipped back into the conversation with the group, offering them a polite bow. As he straightened, he placed a large hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the exit. The subtle touch sent a fleeting but undeniable shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you forgot about the formal event and the people around you. All you could focus on was the heat from his hand against your skin and the quiet thrill of his proximity.

You settled into the passenger seat of his car with a deep sigh, grateful for the moment of relief after spending what felt like hours in heels. Your feet were screaming, and you could feel a headache starting to creep in. Fastening your seatbelt, you glanced over at Satoru, who was still blinking as though trying to shake off the last remnants of his daze.

“You okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, puzzled by his sudden lethargy.

He blinked a few more times, still not fully focused, before reaching for the bag in the backseat. The sound of the Digimon keychain jingling broke the silence before he muttered, almost to himself, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just not used to wearing contacts most of the time.”

You watched him, now a bit more curious, as he fumbled for his contact lens case, carefully slipping the lenses out of his eyes and into the solution. The soft click of the case snapping shut broke through the air before he dug through his bag once more, this time pulling out his glasses. With a deep groan of relief, he slid them back onto his face, and you couldn’t help but notice how that small noise from him made something tighten in your chest.

You quickly turned your head away, trying to ignore the odd flutter in your stomach as his voice—so gravelly and worn—had an unexpected effect on you. Desperately wanting to get your mind off the way his voice seemed to reverberate in your body, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“So, like... is wearing glasses a, uh—genetic thing, or did you develop bad screen habits or somethin’?” You winced internally, realizing how dumb that sounded the moment it left your lips, but it was better than just sitting there awkwardly.

Satoru turned to you, that signature grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Screen habits, huh?" he teased, clearly amused by your question. "Yeah, let's go with that." He grinned at you, effortlessly starting the engine with a smooth motion, his voice dropping slightly as he spoke again. "Nah, my shitty vision is just from my mom’s side," he added, tapping his glasses.

His voice brought you back from your thoughts as he continued, the car rumbling beneath you. "I mean, I’d love to say I’m just a genius with impeccable vision, but… reality’s a little less glamorous than that."

You shot him a look, eyes narrowing teasingly. "Yeah, sure. Genius," you muttered, half-smiling at how easy he made it for you to fall into the banter. There was something about the way he carried himself, the way his words danced on the edge of charm and arrogance, that always kept you on your toes.

But it wasn’t just that. You found yourself wondering—just for a second—why you were so drawn to him. What was it about Satoru that made your thoughts race like this, every single time? You shook the thought off quickly, unwilling to dwell on it. Instead, you leaned back into your seat, giving yourself a small mental shake. You’d already accepted the fact that whatever this thing was between you two wasn’t exactly normal, but that didn’t mean you had to overthink it, right?

You’d known the guy for what—a month now? It wasn’t long, not really, but somehow it felt like so much more. You couldn’t help but dwell on the moments you’d shared—those tutoring sessions where he’d gently guide your hand away from the paper after you got the same question wrong for the fifth time. His usual cocky and irritable demeanor would vanish in an instant when he saw you were genuinely trying your best, his voice softening as he explained the concept all over again, using analogies he thought you’d understand. It was like he could read you, like he knew exactly how to reach you when you were on the verge of giving up.

And then there were the times he’d walk into the study room he always booked for you two in the library, carrying a small piece of strawberry shortcake from the university canteen and a cup of coffee. He’d claim it was the best delicacy on campus, his smile so wide and earnest that you couldn’t help but laugh. You’d roll your eyes, but deep down, you loved how he always seemed to think of you, how he’d notice the little things—like how you preferred coffee with just a hint of sugar or how you’d light up at the sight of anything strawberry.

But maybe what stuck with you the most was the way his face would light up when you finally understood something you’d been struggling with. You’d let out a loud gasp, and he’d grin so wide it was like he was the one who’d gotten it right. He’d cheer for you, his excitement so genuine and infectious that it felt like you both were happy about a shared achievement. And in those moments, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too—this connection, this spark that seemed to grow every time you were together.

It wasn’t just the tutoring or the cake or the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room when he looked at you. It was the way he’d greet you in the hallways with that loud, booming voice and that large smile, drawing the attention of everyone around you (much to your displeasure). It was the way he’d text you random memes at 2 a.m. just to make you laugh, or the way he’d tilt his head when he was thinking, his brow furrowed in concentration when figuring out the best way to explain a tricky concept to you. It was the way he made you feel seen, understood, and maybe even a little special.

But then there was the doubt. You’d only known him for a month, after all. Was it too soon to feel this way? Were you reading too much into his kindness, his gestures, his smiles? Maybe he was just like this with everyone. Maybe you were just another person in his orbit, another student he tutored, another friend he joked with in the hallways.

Yet, every time you tried to convince yourself of that, your mind would drift back to those moments—the way his hand lingered on yours a second too long, the way his eyes lit up when you walked into the room, the way he seemed to go out of his way to make you smile. And then you’d wonder if maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.

"By the way, (name), I wanted to thank you… for coming tonight." The car glides to a stop, and you suddenly realize you’ve been so absorbed in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed you’d already arrived at your student accommodation. Satoru turns to look at you, his white hair slightly tousled from running a hand through it, glasses resting comfortably on his nose. His cerulean eyes, still sharp and clear under the lenses, hold a sincere look you weren’t expecting.

You clear your throat, stumbling over your words. "Oh, it's nothing. Really, I– uh, your tutoring… it’s helped me more than I can say. This was the least I could do." Your pulse quickens as you realize just how intensely his gaze lingers, the usual playfulness gone, replaced by something more genuine.

Satoru tilts his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I get that. But still— I hope you know I’m genuinely grateful. I mean, I know this all started as a way to get involved with your uncle and his research project, but... I just wanted you to know—you're actually fun. Fun to hang out with. Fun to tutor." He pauses, a slight shift in his expression, as if searching for the right words. Then, as if caught off guard by his own vulnerability, he falters. You almost don’t believe your eyes when you see the faint pink tint spreading across his pale cheeks.

"I guess what I’m trying to say is," he begins, a little unsure, "I actually enjoy spending time with you. Not just because of your uncle, or his connections, but because of you." He looks away for a moment, exhaling softly as if he’s been holding this back for a while. "Also… I kinda owe you an apology. I was an ass when I turned down your tutoring request at the start. Totally a dick move. I really–"

“Satoru,” you interrupt gently, your voice steady despite the way your heart is pounding in your chest. “It’s okay. Really. I get it.”

You blink, taken aback. Satoru Gojo, always so composed and confident, was... apologizing? For real? It’s almost endearing, in an unexpected way. You watch him, his usual cool exterior gone, leaving behind someone much less sure of himself than you'd ever imagined.

He blinks at you, his rambling cut short, and for a moment, he just stares, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re being serious or just letting him off the hook. “You… get it?” he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You nod, your fingers fiddling with the strap of your bag as you try to find the right words. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the whole tutoring thing at first either. But… I’m glad it worked out the way it did. You’ve helped me a lot, and not just with maths. You’ve made it… fun. Even when I wanted to throw my textbook out the window.”

He lets out a small laugh at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Yeah, well, you’re a quick learner. Once you stop overthinking everything, you’re unstoppable. I’m just here to… y’know, guide you. Or whatever.” He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you he’s still a little flustered.

You giggle a little at his words, missing the way his eyes soften imperceptibly at your laugh.

“Well— I’ll see you during our next tutoring session then? There’s still a bit of time until that exam, y’know,” you say, shifting slightly in your seat, fingers playing absentmindedly with the strap of your bag.

Satoru exhales a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Always so studious.” He says sarcastically, but his voice is warm, and there’s an undeniable fondness laced within it.

“You say that like I have a choice,” you retort, arching a brow. “Unlike you, I can’t just wing it and still come out on top.”

His grin turns lazy, a flicker of amusement passing through his gaze. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short. You’re getting better. Almost makes me think I’m a pretty good tutor.”

“Almost,” you echo, narrowing your eyes playfully before reaching for the door handle.

Before you can step out, his voice stops you. “(Name).”

You glance back at him, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone��still light, still easy, but with an edge of something unreadable beneath it. “Hmm?”

He watches you for a second too long, his fingers drumming once against the steering wheel before he smirks. “Don’t stay up too late studying. ”

You roll your eyes, pushing the door open. “No promises.”

As you step out and shut the door behind you, you hear the window roll down.

“Oh, and (Name)?” His voice calls out, just as you’re a few steps away.

You turn, only to see that smirk still playing on his lips, eyes glinting behind his glasses.

“Seriously, don’t stay up too late,” he drawls. “I’ve prepared a short exam on everything we’ve covered so far for our next session.”

You freeze for half a second before narrowing your eyes. “You’re joking.”

His grin only widens. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

You scoff, flipping him off before making your way inside, ignoring the way your cheeks burn just a little too hot.

—

You watch nervously as Satoru goes through the answers on the quiz he had prepared. His long finger pushes the frame of his glasses up as he leans over the paper, broad shoulders casting a shadow on the side of the desk where you’re seated. The tension in the air is thick, palpable, and you can’t help but notice the way his proximity makes your pulse pick up.

You’re acutely aware of the space between you both, or rather, the lack of space. His scent, fresh and warm, clings to the air, and it does nothing to ease the heat rising in your chest. With only a short amount of time until your exam, Satoru had suggested extending your tutoring sessions, now stretched to three hours instead of one and a half, to really make sure you’ve got the material nailed down.

This exam is the one that matters—the one that decides if you can even pass the subject. You’ve floundered in the other chapter tests, but a solid performance here might just change everything. You’re not just worried about passing the math exam; it’s the one assessment that actually counts toward your grade, the only thing standing between you and passing the subject.

“Um… Satoru? How’s it going? Am I screwed?” you ask, your voice laced with more than a hint of anxiety as you lean over the desk. His eyes flick up to meet yours, expression unusually grim, and your heart sinks.

“You…”

“...Only got five questions wrong.” The faux-grimace fades into a cheery smile. Your body immediately reacts, a wave of relief sweeping through you as your heart rate steadies. But the tension doesn't quite disappear, especially when you realize it’s not exactly perfect either.

“Five? Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me,” you mutter, exasperated, but also trying not to laugh at how much of an overreaction you had. Getting up, you make your way to where he’s sitting, your thigh brushing his as you lean in to peer at the paper. He makes no move to put any space between the two of you, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, and the closeness makes it hard to focus on anything but the surge of heat pooling in your stomach.

You shift, shoulder brushing his as you lean in a little closer to the paper, your voice soft as you ask, “So, where’d I go wrong?”

He takes a breath, tapping the pencil against the table as his eyes scan over the incorrect answers. “This one, you mixed up the application of the limit as it approaches infinity,” he starts, his voice low but steady, sending a shiver down your spine. "You were too quick to plug in the values and forgot about the behavior of the function at that point."

You nod, trying to absorb his words, but when you look back at the problem, the concept still seems a little murky.

"Wait," you say, tilting your head, "like this?" You try to rework the problem on your own, but something about the approach still feels off.

Satoru watches you closely for a beat, his gaze sharp and focused. Then, before you can even process what’s happening, he grabs your hand, guiding your pencil back to the paper. His touch is firm but gentle, coaxing the motion, and it leaves you a little breathless.

“Here,” he murmurs, his voice so close it vibrates through your chest. He guides your hand, the warmth of his fingers lingering as he shows you exactly how to approach it. You can feel the intensity of his eyes on you, and you can’t help but steal a glance at him as he finishes the explanation, tilting his head just enough to lock eyes with you.

It feels like time slows for a moment. The silence stretches out as you both stare at each other, his hand still gently holding yours. It’s not lost on you how everything seems to intensify, how the distance between you two feels like it's narrowing with every passing second.

He smirks, that familiar playfulness creeping back into his gaze, but there’s something deeper in the way he watches you. “There. Got it now?”

You swallow, trying to find your voice, but the way his hand is still so close to yours makes it hard to focus. “I—I think so,” you say, your voice a little breathier than you intended.

His smirk turns into a more genuine, teasing grin. "Good. You’re catching on faster than I thought."

The moment lingers, the air between you two charged, but he pulls back, giving you some space again. You try to refocus on the problem, but your mind is still racing from the sudden, unspoken energy that’s filled the space between you both. He explains the final four problems you’d gotten wrong and gives you some additional homework involving similar questions

“O–okay, so that’s it for tonight then?” You sigh, leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms above your head. The exhaustion from the mock exam—a near-perfect replica of the real thing—settles into your bones, but there’s a sense of accomplishment too. You’d pushed through it, thanks to him.

As you stretch, your shirt rides up just enough to reveal a sliver of your midriff, and for the briefest of moments, Satoru’s eyes flicker downward. It’s so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already looking at him. His gaze snaps back to your face almost immediately, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to notice the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks. He adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat as if to cover up the momentary lapse, but the way his fingers fidget with the edge of his notebook gives him away.

“Yeah, that’s it for tonight,” he says, his voice a little too casual, a little too rushed. He leans back in his chair, trying to play it cool, but the way he avoids direct eye contact tells you he’s not as unshakable as he pretends to be. “You did good. Really good. Like, really good. Not that I’m surprised or anything, because, y’know, I’m an amazing tutor, but still. You’re… yeah.”

You can’t help but blink confusedly, catching the slight stumble in his words. “Thanks, I guess? You laugh, shaking your head as you stand up and grab your bag. Instead of calling him out on his rambling, you decide to let it slide, choosing to focus on the warmth of his praise instead. “Well, thanks for being so patient with me. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nods, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Yeah, tomorrow. Same time, same place. And don’t forget to review the notes we went over tonight. You’ve got this, (name).”

As you leave, a thought lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to be brushed aside so easily. Your tutor—confident, charming, effortlessly attractive Satoru Gojo—had gotten flustered over something as simple as a glimpse of your exposed midriff. Wasn’t that… strange? You’d always assumed someone like him, with his looks and charisma, would be used to far more than a sliver of non-sexual skin showing. Yet there he was, stumbling over his words and avoiding your gaze like a teenager caught off guard.

But then again, who were you to judge? You’d been with a few guys before, and you weren’t exactly immune to his charms either. There were those rare days when he’d ditch his usual cable-knit sweaters for something more fitted, and you’d catch a glimpse of his thick biceps flexing as he gestured wildly while explaining a concept. On those days, it was your turn to fumble, your focus slipping as you tried not to stare. You brushed the thought aside to the back of your mind– you needed to focus on solidifying the mistakes you’d made today.

In the final week leading up to the dreaded exam, your sessions with Satoru had taken on a new intensity, where he made you painstakingly work through what felt like hundreds of questions, each one diving deeper into the concepts that had once felt so foreign to you.

With each passing day, you found yourself understanding the underlying principles of the mathematics, no longer just memorizing formulas but grasping the logic behind them. The mistakes you once made so effortlessly were becoming fewer and farther between, much to the quiet satisfaction of both you and Satoru.

The days melted together, each one weaving you and Satoru closer in a way that felt almost inevitable. What had started as structured tutoring sessions began to blur into something softer, more organic, like the edges of a well-worn book. Before you knew it, he was just there —in your routine, in your texts, in your thoughts. 

Your phone buzzed more often now, his name lighting up the screen with a frequency that made your heart skip. The messages weren’t always about math, though sometimes they were—usually accompanied by his signature flair for the dramatic. “Help,” he’d write, “I decided to watch that k-drama you told me about while doing my quantam mechanics essay and now I’m fucking hooked.” Other times, it was a meme that made you snort-laugh in the middle of class, or a random thought he’d decided to share at 2 a.m. (“i’ve been thinking, if derivatives were a kpop group, would the quotient rule be the MAKNAE 💜 or product rule do u reckon? chain rule is definitely the leader. serious thought btw”). And then there were the check-ins, the ones that made your stomach flutter (“Sorry if I gave you too much hw :(( Lunch on me next time I promise ^_^”).  Every text felt like a little tug, pulling you into his orbit.

On days when he happened to see you on campus, lunch became an unexpected ritual. If his class finished early, or if he was just taking a break from the chaos of his research projects, he’d text you to meet up for a quick bite. It was never planned—more like a spur-of-the-moment decision—but you’d always find yourself sitting with him, talking about everything and nothing. The conversations were easy, effortless. Sometimes you’d talk about the latest problem set from his mini mocks, his hands gesturing wildly as he explained a concept you’d been stuck on, and tips on how you could manage not to forget it next time . Other times, it was about nothing at all—his latest obsession with a random YouTube rabbit hole, or bonding over an anime you had both watched, excitedly chattering about it a bit too loudly, garnering you both many pointed stares from other uni students in the area. The way his laughter would fill the space between you two, the ease in which he shared random facts about his day, or how he’d make some offhand joke about your sandwich choice made the time seem like it was slipping away unnoticed, and you genuinely enjoyed every moment of it.

And then there were the moments you couldn’t help but notice—the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he’d run a hand through his hair when he was explaining something he was passionate about, the way he’d lean in just a little too close when he wanted to make a point. You’d catch yourself staring, your chest tightening with something you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just the tutoring or the lunches or the texts. It was the way it all felt so natural, like you’d been doing this forever. Like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And so, the day of the exam arrived, and with it, a knot of nerves that you couldn’t quite shake off. You’d been preparing for this day for what felt like ages, the weight of it pressing down on you as soon as you opened your eyes that morning. But as much as the nerves gnawed at you, there was a part of you that was almost eager to get it over with. The constant studying, the endless questions and review sessions, the notes filled with scribbles from all the topics you’d gone over with Satoru—they were all leading to this moment. The anticipation had been hanging over you for weeks, and now, you just wanted to put it behind you.

Now, as you walked into the exam room, the weight of all that effort settled heavily on your shoulders. You took a deep breath, reminded yourself of how much you had covered in the past few weeks, and tried to calm the rapid beat of your heart. The nerves were still there, lurking in the background, but there was a quiet confidence now, too. You knew you were ready. Or at least, you hoped you were.

You sat down at your desk, glancing around at the other students who all seemed to be in their own worlds, some fidgeting nervously, others buried in their notes. You tried to focus, to block out the swirling thoughts, but your mind kept drifting back to all those late nights you’d spent going over practice problems with Satoru. He’d always been there, sitting across from you, ready to answer any question, pointing out where you’d missed a step, his encouragement pushing you to keep going. You hadn’t realized how much you’d come to rely on his presence until now—how much it had become a reassuring constant amidst the chaos of preparing for this exam.

Finally, the exam paper was placed in front of you, and you were off. The questions weren’t easy, but they weren’t impossible either. You recognized so many of the concepts you’d worked through together—limits, rates of change, applying the chain rule to integrals, etc. It felt like the culmination of everything you’d gone over, and the more you worked through the problems, the more confident you became in your understanding. There were moments of doubt, of course, moments where you hesitated and wondered if you were getting something wrong, but you pushed through, reminding yourself of the long hours you’d spent preparing, of the countless explanations and the way Satoru had always assured you that you were capable of doing anything you set your mind to.

And as you reached the final question, the one that had always seemed the most daunting on all the practice papers you’d done, you felt a strange sense of relief. You weren’t sure if you had gotten every single detail perfect, but you were confident. You had done everything you could. And that, in itself, felt like a victory.

When you handed in your paper, you felt a weight lift from your chest. The nerves had finally dissipated, replaced by a quiet sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t just about the exam—it was about all the work that had gone into it, all the progress you had made, the lessons you had learned. And as you walked out of the room, the thought that kept running through your mind wasn’t “I hope I passed,” but instead, “I’m proud of how far I’ve come.”

You stepped outside, the crisp air hitting your face, only to be immediately invaded by a familiar tall figure who seemed to have no concept of personal space. Satoru loomed over you, his face lit up with that trademark grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. 

“So?” he demanded, leaning in way too close, his eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “How was it? Hard? Easy? On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you feel like erasing your existence from this world?” 

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck in the back of your head. “I just finished,” you groaned, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “And you’re already annoying the shit out of me. Congrats.”

He didn’t even flinch, his grin only widening. “That’s my specialty. Now, spill. How’d it go?”

You sighed, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “For the record, it wasn’t that bad, actually. I mean, I think it wasn’t that bad. Like, maybe it was, and I’m just not aware of it—”

“Oh my god,” he interrupted, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “Please stop overthinking. You’re not only making a fool of yourself, but you’re also making a fool of my teaching skills. And that, my pupil, is a crime against humanity.”

Before you could retort, his hand shot out, flicking your forehead with a precision that suggested he’d been practicing. You hissed, swatting at him as he laughed, the sound ringing out like he’d just won some kind of prize. 

“You’re such a jerk,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. 

“Yeah, but I’m your jerk,” he shot back, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he steered you down the path. “Now, come on. Let’s celebrate your survival with food.” You tried not to look too pleased when he called himself your jerk, but the way he said it—so casually, like he was your boyfriend—made something warm unfurl in your chest. And you definitely had to try harder not to lean into his touch, not to give in to the way his large hand gently grasped your shoulder, his intoxicating scent even stronger now that he was this close.  

Leading you out of the campus, Satoru suddenly perked up, his hand still resting against you as his sharp gaze landed on someone ahead.

“Yo, Suguru!” he called out, his voice slipping into something even more boyish, eyes lighting up like he’d just found a rare treasure. His hand pressed tighter against your shoulder as he steered you toward the man with long, sleek black hair and striking amethyst eyes, who was just taking off a stethoscope, coming out of one of the labs. So he was a med student, you noted. That explained the calm, perceptive air about him.

Satoru, however, didn’t seem interested in formalities. Instead, he all but beamed, practically puffing out his chest as he motioned toward you.

“This is the one I was tellin’ you about—my student.” His grin widened, his excitement practically buzzing in the air. “Just finished her exam that I tutored her for, and apparently, it went amaaaazing.” He dragged the word out exaggeratedly, and you mumbled something under your breath about never saying that.

Suguru’s lips twitched into a smirk as he took you in with an amused glance, his eyes warm but knowing as they flickered between you and his best friend.

“Oh, so you’re (Name), huh?” He tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “Your tutor here doesn’t shut up about you—”

Before he could finish, Satoru smacked him—smacked him, right on the shoulder, his usual confidence momentarily faltering.

“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, but the betrayal in his expression was almost comical, and you didn’t miss the telltale flush creeping up his ears, nor the way his cheeks seemed a little too pink under the campus lights.

Suguru chuckled, clearly unfazed. “What?” he teased, rubbing his shoulder dramatically. “I’m just saying, you talk about her more than you talk about anything else.”

Satoru scoffed, crossing his arms, his fingers tapping restlessly against his biceps. “Don’t listen to him—he— I—what he meant was that I just—y’know, like tutoring you,” he said, clearly flustered now, his words coming out a little too fast. “You’re not as bad as the other people I’ve, uh, had to tutor.” His hands moved restlessly, gesturing as if that would somehow explain away whatever Suguru was implying.

“Alright, whatever you say, dude.” Suguru claps Satoru on the shoulder, shaking his head like he’s seen this all before. And maybe he has. You, however, are still adjusting to the sight of Satoru Gojo—the Satoru Gojo—looking this flustered.

It’s one of those rare moments where his usual bulletproof confidence actually lingers in a state of near-collapse instead of recovering in the blink of an eye. You file this moment away for later, something to tease him about when he’s being extra insufferable.

“Uh, yeah. So—so food,” he blurts out, as if physically ejecting himself from the conversation. “You don’t have any classes for the rest of the day, right? ‘Course you don’t, it’s Wednesday. You finish early on Wednesdays—”

You narrow your eyes, amusement flickering across your face. “Satoru,” you interrupt, tilting your head. “Please enlighten me as to how you know when my classes end?”

Because first, he took a wild guess about where you lived, and somehow got it right. And now, apparently, he’s got your timetable memorized? You weren’t sure if you should be impressed or creeped out.

Satoru, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch. If anything, he seems pleased that you asked.

“Well—" he adjusts his glasses, looking smug, “—based on the impromptu lunches we’ve had, as well as the times I see you around campus, it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

“Oh, do explain,” you say, crossing your arms, thoroughly entertained now.

He clears his throat, straightening up like he’s about to deliver a goddamn lecture.

“So, on Mondays, I almost always see you at that corridor near the main library around 2 PM, which suggests you either finish class at 1:50 or you have a break around then. And considering you usually look pissed off, I’d wager it's a stats class—”

You blink. “How the fuck—”

He waves a hand dismissively, grinning. “Tuesdays, I don’t see you until later in the day, usually near the café on the west side of campus, which means you either have a morning class that finishes around noon, or you just happen to crave overpriced lattes at exactly the same time every week.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Satoru—”

“Wednesdays? Easy,” he continues, completely ignoring your growing bafflement. “You’re free early—I know this because every time I see you after 12, you look significantly less dead inside, which must mean your shitty morning lectures are over.”

You gape at him. “You’re actually—what the fuck—”

He just keeps going. “Thursdays, you’re usually at the study hall near the east wing, which means you probably have a class nearby before that. And Fridays—oh, Fridays are my favorite—”

“I really don’t want to hear this shit anymore–.”

“—because you always look like you deeply regret every life choice when you come into the study room that I book, which means you probably have an early morning class. And since I’ve definitely caught you sneaking a Red Bull at 9:30–I was just passing by to my aerodynamics lecture by the way, it’s also like really fucking early in the morning, and in the same building– I’d say I’m pretty spot-on.”

You stare at him, part horrified, part awed. “You’re a freak,” you say finally.

Satoru just smirks, preening under your attention. “Nah, just observant.”

You shake your head. “No, no, you’re actually so pathetic. You’ve got my schedule memorized like a fucking stalker—”

To your surprise, the motherfucker just giggles—an actual giggle—before throwing up a lazy peace sign and sliding into the driver’s seat like he hasn’t just admitted to memorizing your entire schedule like some overgrown nerd.

“Hurry up!” he calls out, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. “I wanna take you to my favorite kakigōri place, and you’re just standing there like an idiot—”

You huff but climb into the passenger seat anyway, still mildly dazed by the whole he-knows-my-schedule-by-heart thing. Is it wrong that instead of feeling creeped out, you…kind of like it?

No, you tell yourself. You know Satoru. You know exactly how his brain works. If it were anyone else, maybe you’d be concerned, but this is him—someone who notices everything, whether you want him to or not.

You mean, this is the same guy who once caught you using PhotoMath to solve a particularly tricky problem, not because he saw you do it, but because he noticed that your numbers were written too neatly. “You don’t write your fives like that,” he had said, squinting at your paper with an almost offended expression. “You scrawl like a serial killer under normal conditions, and suddenly you have impeccable penmanship? Suspicious.”

You shake your head, exhaling a quiet laugh at the memory as he starts the car.

“So?” he glances at you as he merges onto the road, one hand draped over the wheel, the other adjusting the glasses now perched on his nose. “You’re awfully quiet. No scolding? No accusations of being a pathetic little nerd?”

You cross your arms, leaning back into your seat. “Oh, I still think you’re a pathetic little nerd. That hasn’t changed.”

Satoru snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Keep lying to yourself. I know you enjoy the attention. I mean who wouldn’t, seriously, from a guy like me?”

You roll your eyes, muttering something about reporting him for harassment, watching the city lights blur past the window. The late afternoon sun casts long, golden streaks along the streets, the air warm and buzzing with the gentle hum of life winding down after a busy day.

After a beat, you glance at him. “So, what’s so special about this kakigōri place?”

“Oh-ho, so now you’re interested?” His smirk is immediate. “I was expecting you to fight me on it.”

You give him a look. “I was going to, but then I remembered the last time you bought some of those insanely good soufflé pancakes for our tutoring session when I refused to come to the cafe with you, and I kinda regretted being a little bitch about it.”

Satoru cackles. “See? You do trust my taste.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

The drive is…comfortable. You don’t even realize you’ve fallen into such an easy rhythm with him until the conversation veers into the absurd—Satoru somehow starts ranting about how calculus would lowkey be kinda sexy if the concept was remodelled into a human female (which is, frankly, an argument you refuse to engage with), and in return, you accuse him of being the type of guy to correct someone’s grammar in the middle of a confession.

“For the record, I would let them finish first,” he argues, turning into a quiet side street lined with small, traditional storefronts. “Then I’d correct them.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he parks the car smoothly, grinning at you as he unclips his seatbelt, “here you are, willingly getting kakigōri with me.”

You scoff, pushing open the door. “Yeah, well. Might as well get something out of the suffering.”

The shop Satoru leads you into is small but cozy, the kind of place that’s been around for ages, with worn wooden counters and the lingering scent of fresh fruit and syrup. A few older patrons are seated inside, quietly chatting over bowls of delicately shaved ice piled high with vibrant toppings.

The menu is hand-written on wooden plaques above the counter, featuring everything from classic strawberry milk kakigōri to elaborate matcha creations with red bean and mochi.

Satoru gestures toward the counter with a flourish. “Go crazy, cutie.”

You hum, scanning the options. “Hmmm…what’s your go-to?”

“Me?” He grins. “Mango and condensed milk. Simple, classic, elite.”

You snort. “You act like you didn’t just call calculus sexy thirty minutes ago.”

“Hey, that was a very valid intellectual discussion—”

You shake your head, placing your order, and before long, you’re both seated at a small wooden table, your respective mountains of kakigōri in front of you. The ice glistens under the dim lighting, the syrup gliding down the soft, fluffy peaks in slow, tempting drizzles.

Satoru takes a dramatic first bite, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes as he lets out a satisfied groan. “Mmm, fuck, that’s good.”

You blink at him. “Did you just moan over shaved ice?”

He winks. “I moan over a lot of things, (name).”

You stare. “Satoru.”

He just laughs, leaning in slightly, spoon balanced between his fingers. “What? Scared you’ll start associating me with pleasure?”

You nearly choke on your own spoonful of kakigōri. “Oh, my god, shut up.”

Snickering through a mouthful of sweet, mango-shaved ice, you point your spoon at him, shaking your head.

“Honestly? I feel so bad for any girl who’s been intimate with you.” You let the spoon linger in the air for dramatic effect. “You definitely seem like the type to start listing the top ten most interesting facts about the human body mid-way through sex.”

Satoru chokes on his kakigōri, hastily swallowing before shooting you an indignant look. “Excuse you! I would never—”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe one fact, but only if it was really interesting.”

You deadpan. “I rest my case.”

Satoru huffs, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “For your information, I’d be great in bed.”

You let out a skeptical hum. “Mmm. Right. You sound like the kind of guy who would start explaining the scientific accuracy of a sex scene in the middle of it.”

“What—no—”

“Or pause everything just to adjust your stupid glasses.”

Satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I wouldn’t do that—”

“Actually, you know what? I bet you’d get distracted mid-sex just because you started thinking about some dumb physics theorem.”

“Oh my god—”

“I bet you’d be like, ‘oh wait, this position actually follows the law of—’”

“Okay!” Satoru interrupts, waving his spoon at you in exasperation. “I get it!”

You grin at him, resting your chin in your palm. “So, tell me then, oh great Satoru, have you actually tested these so-called ‘amazing skills’ of yours?”

And that’s when it happens. The slip-up.

“Ehh? I mean, I’ve never actually had sex before, but if I did—”

You blink. “Wait.”

Satoru freezes.

You blink again. “You’re a virgin?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you see it—the way his entire body tenses, the way his fingers tighten slightly around his spoon. The tips of his ears turn pink first, then the color quickly spreads down to his cheeks.

“I—what?” His voice jumps half an octave, and he immediately clears his throat, forcing a casual chuckle. “Pfft. What? No. What are you—who told you that? That’s—”

“You just told me that.”

He visibly short-circuits for a second, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to find an escape route in real time.

“No, no, no, that’s not—I misspoke,” he rushes out, suddenly looking anywhere but at you. “What I meant was, I could have if I wanted to, but I chose not to, you know? Because—uh—”

You lean in, relishing this moment. “Because what, Satoru?”

His knee bounces under the table, his spoon now aimlessly stirring the ice in his cup. “Because, I have standards, okay? I’m not just gonna—gonna throw myself at the first girl who bats her eyelashes at me. Which many have done, mind you.”

“Oh my god, you really are a virgin.” You burst into laughter, barely able to breathe.

Satoru groans, shoving his hands into his hair. “Okay, can we not make a big deal out of this?”

You wipe your eyes, still giggling. “No, no, it’s just—you of all people! Mr. Flirts-Like-It’s-A-Sport. Mr. ‘I’d Be An Amazing Lover.’ You never actually—”

He slumps back in his seat, arms crossed, pouting. “You don’t have to say it like that,” he grumbles.

You lean in again, dropping your voice, just to mess with him. “Wait… have you at least kissed someone?”

His eyes snap to yours, his mouth opening—then quickly snapping shut.

You gasp.

“Oh my god.”

“No! Obviously, I’ve kissed people before, I’m not that pathetic,” Satoru huffs, but the blush dusting his cheekbones betrays him.

You narrow your eyes, tapping your spoon against the rim of your cup. “Huh. That was a weird reaction for someone who’s supposedly kissed people before.”

Satoru scoffs, shifting in his seat like he’s physically shaking off the conversation. “Well, sorry if I don’t like being interrogated about my sex life over shaved ice.”

“You don’t have a sex life,” you remind him, your voice dripping with mock sympathy.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again before he glares at you. “You’re such a little shit, you know that?”

You flash him an innocent smile, savoring the last bit of mango syrup before pushing your cup aside. “Fine, fine, I’ll believe you,” you say breezily. Then, as if the thought just occurred to you, you add, “Wow. You, a virgin. I would’ve never guessed.”

For a split second, he looks embarrassed again. But then—fuck—his usual arrogance comes rushing back, and you regret your words the moment you see that telltale smirk creep onto his face.

“Oh?” He leans forward, elbow resting on the table, chin propped lazily against his hand. His lips curl, azure eyes flashing mischievously behind his glasses. “And why’s that, hmm?”

You blink. “…Why’s what?”

His smirk deepens. “Why’d you never guess? What exactly about me gave you the impression that I wasn’t a virgin?”

Your stomach plummets. “Oh, fuck off, Satoru.”

“Nah, nah, I’m genuinely curious.” He tilts his head, that cocky grin widening as he watches you squirm. “You must’ve thought I was getting some—why’s that? Because I’m tall? Handsome? Sexy?” He bats his unfairly long ivory lashes at you, because of course he does.

You groan, shoving your empty cup at him, which he barely dodges. “I swear to God, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He’s grinning now, leaning back with a self-satisfied expression. “You thought about it, huh? Imagined me—”

“Satoru, if you finish that fucking sentence, I will walk home.”

He barks out a laugh, standing as you both make your way toward his car. “Aw, don’t be shy now. I knew you found me attractive, but damn, I didn’t know you were thinking about me like that.”

You whirl on him, pointing a finger at his chest. “I wasn’t! I just meant—”

“Meant what?” He grins, effortlessly slipping into the driver’s seat while you slip into the passenger seat, fuming. “That I look like someone who knows what he’s doing? That I exude sex appeal?”

“I hope you crash this fucking car.”

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and unrestrained, like he actually enjoys teasing you this much. The sunlight from the setting sun catches on the graceful slope of his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips—it’s honestly annoying how good he looks right now.

Then, just as your thoughts start veering dangerously close to he’s actually so fucking handsome, he casually drops—

“So, you’re not a virgin?”

You snap out of it instantly. “Huh?”

His eyes flick towards you, mirth dancing behind the lenses of his glasses. “You heard me.”

“Oh—uh, no. I’m not.” You shift in your seat, suddenly hyper aware of the way his long fingers tap lazily against the wheel.

The car slows to a stop at a red light, and he turns fully to look at you, lips curled in that signature smirk. “Would it be breaking our oh-so-formal professional relationship if I asked when you lost it?”

Your breath catches for a second—not because the question itself is shocking, but because the way he asks it is so casual, so genuine, like he’s just indulging a passing curiosity.

Then again, that is Satoru. No filter, no shame. Just whatever crosses his mind, slipping past those ridiculously smug lips.

“You don’t have to answer,” he adds, tilting his head slightly, watching you. “Just kinda curious.”

You raise a brow. “Why?”

He hums, like he’s actually thinking about it. “Dunno. Just want to know.” A beat. Then, with a grin: “Guess I just like knowing things about you.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does. You glance out the window, lips pressing together before you huff a quiet laugh. “Fine. It was during freshman year.”

Satoru whistles lowly. “Ooh rebellious, I-just-moved-out-from-my parents-house-and-am-an-adult, era?”

“Not really,” you say, rolling your eyes. “It wasn’t that dramatic. Just… someone I was dating at the time.”

“And was he any good?”

You turn back to him, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you asking?”

The light turns green, and Satoru faces forward again, still grinning. “Just trying to gather intel.”

“For what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” His voice is obnoxiously smug, but the way he grips the wheel a little tighter—how he suddenly refuses to look directly at you—tells you something.

And that something makes your heart pound just a little harder.

Your eyes narrow at him, trying to gauge whether this is just his usual teasing or if there’s something else laced in his words—something a little less cocky and a little more… interested.

You lean back in your seat, arms crossing over your chest. “You’re acting real nosy all of a sudden.”

He hums, tapping his fingers against the wheel again, that smirk never leaving his lips. “I just think it’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“That you thought I wasn’t a virgin.” He throws a glance your way, smirk widening when he sees your unimpressed expression. “Like, really thought it.”

You scoff. “So? A lot of people would probably assume the same.”

Satoru chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, I bet they would.” His voice lowers slightly, playful and taunting. “Especially if they find me attractive.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. He’s so fucking obnoxious.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “This is the most pathetic attempt at fishing for compliments I’ve ever seen.”

“Fishing? Babe, you just admitted it.”

You glare. “I never admitted anything.”

His grin grows impossibly wider. “Didn’t have to. You assumed I wasn’t a virgin, which means you thought I’d gotten some before. Which means you think I could get some. Which means—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

He just laughs again, eyes flicking toward you, head tilting slightly like he’s soaking in every bit of your flustered irritation. “Aw, c’mon, no need to get all embarrassed. It’s cute.”

You blink, thrown off by how smoothly he slips that in. There’s no teasing lilt, no exaggerated drawl—just a quiet, easy amusement.

And suddenly, your skin feels way too warm.

You turn away, lips pressing together as you stare out the window. “Fucking insufferable.”

Satoru snickers, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and lets the conversation settle for a moment as he takes a turn down a quieter street that leads to your college dorm accommodation.

“Anyway,” he says after a beat, voice lighter again, “care to rate your first time? Was it  mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex?”

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, absolutely not.”

“Knew it.” He clicks his tongue, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “Bet he didn’t even make you come.”

Your head snaps toward him so fast you swear you almost get whiplash. “Satoru!”

“What?” He looks at you innocently, like he didn’t just casually say that while driving down the fucking road. “I’m just sayin’. Most guys don’t know what the fuck they’re doing at that age.”

Your mouth opens, but words fail you. It’s not that you disagree—it’s just the way he said it. So fucking confidently.

You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “How do you even know that if you’re a virgin?”

He grins, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got eyes, don’t I? And ears. Plus, I’m a quick learner. Just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I don’t know how it should be done.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Yeah, as if. Satoru, I bet you don’t even know where the clit is.”

At your words, something in his gaze hardens—not in a mean or harsh way, but in a way that you usually only catch glimpses of when he’s serious about something. His smirk doesn’t falter, but there’s a shift in his demeanor, a subtle intensity that makes the air between you feel charged. His fingers stop tapping the wheel, and for a moment, the playful banter gives way to something quieter, more deliberate.

“Oh, I know exactly where it is,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost too casual, like he’s stating a fact rather than engaging in your back-and-forth. His eyes flick to you briefly, and there’s a glint of something—confidence, maybe, or challenge—before he looks back at your dorm complex where you both are currently parked outside. “And I’d bet my life I could find it faster than whoever your first was.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. His words hang in the air, heavy and unapologetic, and you can’t tell if he’s still teasing or if he’s dead serious. Either way, it’s enough to make your face heat up, and you quickly turn your gaze back to the window, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your pulse has picked up.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, though your voice lacks its usual bite.

Satoru chuckles softly, the sound low and warm, and you can feel his eyes on you again, even if you refuse to look at him. “What? You started it,” he says, his tone lightening again, though the edge of that earlier intensity lingers. “Besides, I’m just saying—if you ever want to test that theory, I’m more than willing to prove you wrong.”

This is wrong. You know it’s wrong. He’s your tutor, and whatever’s happening right now is definitely crossing that invisible professional line you’d drawn in your mind—though, if you’re honest, that line had blurred long ago. Still, this wasn’t right. This was—

“Fine. Prove me wrong, then.”

And so that’s why you’re now in your dorm room, pressed into the sheets with Satoru’s broad frame hovering above you, his lips crashing against yours like he’s been starving for this. Those plush lips—the ones you’d secretly imagined during countless tutoring sessions—move with an intensity that catches you completely off guard. You’d assumed his claims of kissing others were just innocent pecks, maybe a few shy brushes of lips. 

But this? 

His tongue slides against yours effortlessly, his head tilting to deepen the kiss as he swallows your soft whimpers. Your mind races because what the fuck—how is he this good at it? 

He leaves your lips for a moment, his own going down to press wet kisses to the column of your neck, your smaller frame squirming underneath him.

“Can I..?” He asks, lifting his head up from your neck, glasses a little askew and pink lips kiss bitten, a delicious flush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. His large, warm hands make their way under the sweater you were wearing, resting on your hips as he kneels between your legs, torso hunched over you to assess your reactions. 

You nod, a little too eagerly, and his hands eagerly push the sweater up under your chin to expose your tits covered in a plain black bra— but with the way Satoru’s eyes are gleaming, you might as well have been wearing some lacy bra from Victoria’s Secret.

“Fuck. Your tits are so pretty.” He mutters, large hands squeezing the supple flesh and making you gasp. His lips slot themselves against yours again, and one of his hands goes behind your back to unclip your bra deftly. 

If you weren’t thrumming with need, you might’ve asked how he knew to do unclasp a bra, but you’re too busy focused on the feeling that his lips have moved down from yours to your breasts, lips wrapping around a nipple and rolling his tongue around it, making you shriek. He lavishes the same attention to your other breast, and then pulls back to rub his thumbs around your now peaked nipples, snickering.

Your hips thrust upwards at the feeling, and his hands come down to grasp them to stop them from moving, glasses slipping down a little as hooks a thumb into the waistband of your pants.

“Can I?” He asks sweetly, and you nod, caught up in completely taking off the sweater he’d tug up above your chest.

“Please.” You murmur, watching as he tugs your pants down, revealing simple black panties, and once again, Satoru’s eyes light up as if he’s being offered a treat.

His thumb comes down to press against the hood of where your clit is under, atop your panties, letting out a small gasp as he feels how slick you are– not visible due to the fact you’re wearing black panties.

“Shit–you’re so wet,” he mutters, more to himself than you, and presses his thumb down a little harder, rubbing circles on your covered clit as you squirm beneath him, a hand coming to grasp the sheets beneath you at the way he’d seemed to find your clit before even taking your panties off.

“Hmm– so I was right, this is the clit… with the way you’re squirming it has to be it. Besides… What else did Suguru’s anatomy textbook say…?” He blinks, rubbing your clit absentmindedly. Even while your skin feels hot, and you feel like you’re ridden by lust from watching your extremely hot tutor finally touch you after weeks of subtly pining after him, even you have the ability to muster up an exasperated expression at his chattering while he’s supposed to be making you feel good. 

“Suguru’s textbook? Satoru, what– ah– what the fuck are you on about?” You murmur annoyedly, momentarily distracted by him replacing his thumb with his middle and ring finger to rub a little harder.

“Oh—I was reading Suguru’s anatomy textbook, and when I came across the female human body, it said the clit has about 10,000 nerve endings…” he says casually, his voice low and steady, like he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather; as if his fingers aren't slipping into your panties to touch you directly on your pussy, fingers expertly locating your sensitive pearl as he continues his relentless probing against it.

You squeal, legs attempting to lock around his hand, but one hand comes in to grip one of your thighs to push it back, while a knee pushes the other leg, opening your legs for him.

“Satoru– when I said you’d list facts during sex, I didn’t think you’d mean it–”

“... 10000 nerve endings. Well that settles it.” He says thoughtfully, pausing his fingers much to your displeasure. 

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, bucking your hips up against his still hand, now getting thoroughly annoyed.

“Teach me how to eat your pussy.”

“Huh?”

“I said, teach me how to eat your–”

“I h–heard it! I– what– why the sudden interest?” You ask, a blush spreading across your cheeks at his words. You glance at his face, a forced look of the calm, arrogant composure plastered on it, but you can tell he’s just as flustered as you are, the pink tips of his ears a huge giveaway.

“Since the clit has 10000 nerve endings, the best way to stimulate the majority of said nerve endings would be with dual stimulation, so in this case, I’d like to have my tongue involved too. So, teach me how to eat your pussy.” He says, and you just blink. Not only does him speaking to you in such a manner turn you on immensely, but your face is probably emanating steam from how red it is. 

“I–I’ve only been given oral once, you know, so I don’t think I’ll be a very good teacher–”

“Did it make you come?” He interrupts you, and you scowl, reluctantly shaking your head.

“Oh, okay. Then teach me, please. Tell me what mistakes he made, and what you would’ve wanted him to do. I– I wanna make you feel good..” He says softly and you almost come alone from his words. Nodding wordlessly, you slide down your panties, legs closing instinctively at the way his gaze focuses on your core. 

“Shit– don’t do that! It looks so fucking pretty… Okay, where should I start?” He asks eagerly, getting on his stomach between your thighs, large hands prying your legs apart. 

“Wait, these are getting in the way.” He murmurs, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, blinking a few times. 

“Uh– so.. Um.. he kept.. Like he didn’t know where the clit was, so he was just like… licking me where it wasn’t pleasurable at all–” You begin, but in true Satoru fashion, he cuts you off, this time not with his words, but directly pressing a kiss to your clit, making you squirm in surprise.

“So the problem was him not giving enough attention to the one part responsible for all the pleasure? What a dumbass..” And with that, he begins, spreading you open with two fingers to lick a long stripe up to your clit. Doing this a few times, he lets out a breathy yeah when you jolt, nose nudging against your clit as he brings his mouth up to it, giving it a harsh suck. 

“Oh my god–” You moan, pushing your hips up into his face, hands winding into his white hair as he smiles against your pussy, pulling back to swirl his fingers against your clit. Gathering the amount of wetness that’s formed, he slides down to your needy hole, pushing a finger in, sharp eyes focused on your face to assess your reaction.

“Feels okay, baby?” He asks, inching his long, middle finger in slowly. Heat crawls up your spine at the way he calls you baby, but you nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth and eyes scrunched half way shut in pleasure. 

He grins, curling the long finger inside and making you let out a low moan as you get up on your forearms, aching for the sight of seeing him between your legs and doing things like this to you. It makes the feeling much better, you think. I mean, who wouldn’t enjoy seeing the sight of the Satoru Gojo, eating your pussy like a pro?

His mouth is attached to your clit again, licking and sucking as he slowly starts pushing his finger in and out of you at a steady pace, his actions making you roll your eyes back in your head. 

“Ah–nnh– Tastes so good, I could do this forever..” He murmurs against you, spreading your lips open again to flatten his tongue against you, while simultaneously slipping another finger past your clenching hole, ignoring your protests of being too much! (I mean, they are canonically six inches long.)

He continues pumping his fingers in and out, while his tongue continues rotating between licking and sucking on you. But what really draws the most reaction out of you is when he nibbles lightly on the spongy tissue of your clit, making you press the heels of your feet into your bed, when you’d really like to lock your thighs around his head but his hands have such a strong grip on them while he eats you out that you really can’t do much. 

Your back arches up and he does it again, sensing how your reaction was much more intense, and you abruptly come, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra, your lower half trying to escape his strong grip as he pushes your thighs up to press his tongue flat against your hole, trying to get as much of your essence as he possibly can. He’s moaning against your pussy, savouring the taste before you come to your senses through your overstimulated mind, tugging on his hair and he stops, sitting up between your twitching legs.

The lower half of his face is adorned with your release, his pink lips glistening as he draws in ragged breaths. His tousled white hair falls in disarray, delicate strands cascading into his eyes, framing a visage that radiates an almost otherworldly allure. He is the very embodiment of divine beauty.

“You– how was that your first time… Satoru, this is the fastest I’ve ever come before.” You say weakly, sitting up to straddle his thighs, tits pressing into his chest as you move in to kiss him, tasting yourself.

He moans, kissing you back with gusto as his hands ghost your sides, moving up so his thumbs are situated on the underside of your breasts.

With a sudden, deliberate motion, you press him down onto your narrow bed. As he settles, his long, graceful limbs sprawl effortlessly, consuming every inch of the modest space. You move down, lips still slotted against his as you move your hands up under his sweater, tugging it off. The sight underneath you makes you nearly blanch.

He’s undeniably built—broad, powerful, and sculpted in a way that commands attention. His wide chest boasts firm, defined pectorals, and his abdomen is a masterpiece of taut muscle, abs the kind that might be described, in the most clichéd terms, as a "washboard." But the most striking detail, the one that draws your gaze irresistibly, is the faint, silvery trail of hair that begins at his navel and trails downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his slacks.

“Just for how good you ate me out, I think you deserve a reward too, don’t you?” You say quietly, a sweet smile on your lips, as you look down at the man below you, thoroughly enjoying how his face turns a pretty shade of pink at your words.

“I–I do? A reward? Wh– what, okay! Yeah!” He nods his head mindlessly, a whimper escaping him as you cup his very prominent bulge through his slacks. He’s fully hard, hot and throbbing under your touch even through the layers of clothes. You begin undoing his slacks, and push them down along with his boxers, stifling a gasp when his cock slaps against his stomach.

Just like the rest of him, his dick is also beautiful. The tip is flushed the same pink colour as the one you’ve been recently seeing on his face, and the shaft is pale, prominent veins on the underside.

Giggling at the strangled noise that escapes his throat when you wrap a hand around him, you pump him a few times, relishing in the noises that he makes. You shimmy your way out of his legs and sink down to your carpeted floor, watching as he adjusts himself to sit in front of you with his thighs spread, cock bobbing in your face.

“You don’t have to gimme head jus’ cause I ate you out–”

You cut him off by resuming your previous motions, pumping his shaft and watching him turn into a mess from just that. 

“I want to suck you off. So shut up, please?”

 Leaning in, you place a kiss on his tip, and take it into your mouth, eyes trained on his face.

Instantaneously, his head is thrown back, and you can tell it takes all of his self control to not buck his hips up directly into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. Trying your very best to remember that this is his first time doing something like this, you inch your mouth down on him further slowly, to make sure this experience lasts long enough for him. To nobody’s surprise, you gag once he’s half way in– his size is too impressive for you to take all of it. So using your hands, you pump the part of his cock that can’t reach into your mouth, while bobbing down your mouth on what it can take.

You can feel slickness pooling between your thighs at every deep groan that escapes him every time you take him in your mouth after pulling off of it. Determined to make him lose control, you bob your head a little faster, ignoring the way his tip keeps slamming against your throat every time you try to take him in deeper. You’re definitely gonna have a sore throat after this.

Your hand grips tighter on the base of his cock, and he yelps out your name, a hand fisting into the back of your hair. He mumbles out a broken sorry, and you’re about to ask him what for, but the answer becomes clear once he gently pulls your head off to thrust his hips back into your mouth, using your mouth to get him off.

The action of him doing something so domineering makes you grip his thighs firmly so he can properly fuck your mouth. It seems like that even through the lust filled haze, Satoru knows you can’t take him fully, so he sharply thrusts until he can see more than half of his dick in your mouth, repeating the action before he’s cussing and babbling, the thrust of his hips becoming sloppier and sloppier.

“Ah! Nnhn– I– (name), you’re making me feel– ngh– so good, so good. Can I cum in your mouth, please can I come in your mouth?” He begs, and you nod to the best of your abilities while having his cock shoved into your throat. You pull back from him fucking your throat to suck at his tip, tongue running over the leaky slit, and that’s what it takes him to reach the edge, emptying himself into your awaiting mouth. His hands are clutching at the sheets under him, abs clenching deliciously as he downright whimpers, hazily watching as thick ropes of cum deposit themselves on your pink tongue.

You swallow while maintaining eye contact with him, trying to stifle a grin as the sight makes his cock twitch weakly. 

“You’re—oh my god, that was… so fuckin’ amazing,” he murmurs, his breath ragged, his hands settling firmly on your waist as you shift to straddle him once more.  

“Really? You think my mouth is that… skilled?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He nods fervently, his expression utterly sincere.  

“I mean it—I think you just sent me to another dimension,” he says, his voice low and awestruck. “Honestly, if physicists ever needed proof for string theory, they’d only need to study the way you sucked me off like that—” He cuts himself off, and you laugh softly, shaking your head at his hyperbolic charm.

“Would you like to have sex, Satoru?” You purr, running a hand down his chest as you look down at him. You feel his dick immediately harden and twitch against your ass, a barely concealed smirk making its way onto your lips.

“Looks like I got my answer”

“Shit—I really, really want to,” he admits, his voice tinged with frustration, a faint pout forming on his lips as his piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, brimming with longing. “But…”  

Your heart softens instantly. You realize you might have been too insistent—this is his first time, after all. He’s probably nervous, maybe even scared.  

“Aw, I’m sorry for pushing you, Satoru,” you murmur, leaning down to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. “I should’ve been more understanding. It’s your first time, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”  

“Oh, it’s not that,” he interrupts, his tone suddenly serious, one hand cradling your cheek as he looks at you with unwavering sincerity. “It’s just… we don’t have any condoms. I don’t want to risk anything, you know? I’m not the kind of guy who’d be irresponsible about this.”  

You can’t help but roll your eyes, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Satoru, I’m on birth control,” you say, your voice laced with amused exasperation. 

He blinks a few times. Instead of getting happy like you thought he’d get, his face, if even possible, turns a deeper shade of red.

“You’d seriously let me cum in your pussy?” 

You choke at his words, slapping his chest. “Don’t say it like that! But yes, I suppose if you wanted to… I mean.. I wouldn’t mind..” You say, cheeks turning pink yourself, trying not to imagine Satoru pumping you full of his seed. 

“Huh? I just ate you out like you were my last meal, and you sucked the life outta my dick until I reached an alternate reality but you draw the line at me saying I wanna cum in your pussy? Weirdo.”

You don’t respond, instead grabbing his semi erect cock. Your touch alone both helps him shut up and get fully hard again. Lifting your hips up, you align his tip with your entrance, looking down at him.

“You ready?” You ask softly, and he nods, breathing already heavy just from seeing his shift gently probe at your hole. You nod, before sinking down, inch by inch onto his cock. The stretch is delicious, you don’t think you’ve ever had anything this big inside you before. Your reaction is nothing compared to Satoru’s, whose eyes have dilated so much with lust that you can only see a faint ring of azure lining his enlarged pupils.

“Fuck— you’re so tight, and warm. Holy shit y’r pussy is suckin’ me in.. Oh my god,” he grits out, watching as your warm, fluttering heat takes his cock in entirely, and you’re sitting atop him, naked and stuffed full with his thick shaft.

“Wait!” He says, scrambling to get his glasses and hastily planting them on his face. 

“Wanna see you— wanna see you better.” He pants, twitching inside of you as he sees your beautiful face, and your titties in his face. He hopes he dies like this.

Your heart warms at his words and you reach down to kiss the corner of his mouth. You let him get used to the feeling of being inside you, honestly even getting used to it yourself, before you’re lifting your hips up and slamming back down on him, ass meeting his pelvis.

“Feels good?” You ask breathily, feeling him so deep inside of you from this position. He chokes out a yes yes yes fuck—

And you take it as a sign to plant your knees down on the bed, before you’re moving your hips up and down, little whimpers leaving your mouth every time his dick is stuffed inside you to the brim. He feels so good— so good that you think you’ll come again without any clitoral stimulation. You’ve never experienced such pleasure just from penetration before. 

Slowing down to catch your breath, you grind sensually atop him, clit brushing against the coarse white hairs of his happy trail, making your hips stutter with each movement.

Satoru watches you on top of him, hair disheveled, lips glistening, and eyes hooded as you tire yourself out while milking his cock, an experience he didn’t know could feel so extraordinary. And thank fuck he put his glasses back on because he can notice that you’re slightly tired, pride and arrogance swirling in his chest when he realised you’re tired because you’re trying to pleasure him and he’s too much for you—

“Is my baby tired?” he coos, the teasing lilt in his voice making your breath hitch. But there’s something different now—something in the way his tone has dropped, in the way his whole demeanor shifts like he’s just remembered exactly who he is and what he’s capable of.

And taking charge? Oh, he’s always been good at that. Too good.

He tilts his head, watching you with sharp, calculating eyes, his smirk deepening as he takes in the way your breathing has changed, the way your body reacts before you can even think to stop it.

“C’mon,” he drawls, leaning in, so close that you can feel his breath fan against your cheek. “You were takin’ my cock so well  earlier, acting like you could keep up. Don’t tell me you’re already wearing out on me? ‘S my cock too much for you? Too much for your body?”

The worst part? You can’t even think of a good comeback, not with the way he’s looking at you now, with that smug little smirk, with the casual arrogance that makes your stomach tighten and your pulse race. How is it that he could switch instantly from that pathetic man asking if he could eat your pussy and losing his shit when you gave him head to… this?

“Dumb now? Need your Satoru to help you?” He hums, and before you know it, he’s effortlessly lifting your hips up to start plummeting himself into you, making you double over as you fall into his chest, hands on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. 

How the hell is he a virgin? No other man you’ve been with, has ever had so much stamina like this?

“Satoru, please don’t stop. It feels so good,” You whine, grasping the headboard behind you as he Satoru continues to fuck you roughly. Obscene, slapping sounds fill the room as he continues slamming his cock into you. One hand is on your hip, and the other on your ass, hand squeezing the flesh.His pace is a little off track, probably because he’s trying not to bust inside of you, but he’s still hitting that spot into you again and again.

His face reaches up in between your tits to bury it between them, all while his strong grip holds you up. You’re probably going to have hand shaped bruises on your hips but you don’t really care, too focused on the fact that you’re going to come for the second time right onto his cock. The vein on the underside of shaft is dragging deliciously against your velvety walls, and you can feel yourself clenching, about to–

“Oh fuck— (name), ‘m sorry, can’t hold it in—“ He says, before he reaches a hand from your hip up to the back of your neck to pull your face down to mesh his lips with yours. His tongue swirls around against yours quite obscenely, as he buries himself to the hilt deep in your pussy, spilling himself with an intensity that makes him gasp and groan against your mouth as he bucks his hips up again, releasing the last bit of his load in you, 

The feeling of him filling you up in such an unrestrained manner pushes you over the edge as you clench desperately around his cock, and Satoru— smart Satoru realises, bringing a shaky hand down to play with your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. He stays buried in you until you’re panting, slumped over him.

Both your bodies are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he pulls your hair to kiss you again. The kiss this time is slow, languid and sweet, all while his hands run soothingly down your sides. 

“I came too early, didn’t I—“

“No, you— you were perfect.” You break him off, wincing at the feeling of his cock softening inside of you as you look down at him. “Honestly, you uh, you had a lot of stamina, actually.” You giggle as he smirks, reaching up and kissing your lips as an apology as he coaxes his dick out of you. 

You wince some more as you feel his seed spill out of you, and Satoru lays you gently down, a little flustered by watching himself spill out of you.

“Let me clean you up— wait—“ He says, grabbing the tissues situated on your bedside table and spreading your legs gently to clean you up as thoroughly as he can.

“I’m really tired now,” you yawn, stretching your arms over your head, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in your bones. Satoru lets out a quiet chuckle, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he leans over to grab the crumpled tissues and tosses them into the bin.

You watch as he moves across the room, the way the muscles in his back flex slightly, the definition of his lean form on full display. He’s only bothered to pull on his boxers, and you can’t help but admire the way they sit low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

He catches you staring in the reflection of his mirror, and when he turns, there’s an unmistakable glint of amusement in his cerulean eyes.

“Are you checking me out?” he asks, grinning as he stretches his arms above his head in an exaggerated display, making a show of the way his abs contract.

You don’t even bother denying it. “Yeah,” you admit shamelessly, your voice still a little hoarse, a little sleep-heavy.

His grin deepens, cocky and self-satisfied as he prowls back toward the bed. “Y’know, most people would at least pretend to have some shame,” he teases, hands bracing on either side of you as he leans down, his breath warm against your cheek.

You smirk, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “And yet, you like me because I don’t.”

Satoru laughs, a deep, satisfied sound, before he presses a quick, teasing kiss to the tip of your nose. “Fair point. But before you get too comfy…” His fingers trail down your arm, touch featherlight, before he straightens. “You should go pee.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the abrupt shift in conversation. “What?”

He shrugs. “Aftercare, babe. I read somewhere that you’re supposed to pee after sex so you don’t get, like, a UTI or something.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head with a chuckle. “That might be the single least sexy thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Wow, and here I was just trying to be a gentleman,” he huffs, flopping onto your tiny dorm bed as you drag yourself to the bathroom.

When you return, he’s sprawled out like he owns the damn thing, taking up more than half of the already-cramped mattress. You clamber in beside him, and as soon as you settle, he immediately pulls you into his chest, long limbs wrapping around you like a human octopus.

“You really need a bigger bed,” he grumbles, shifting as he tries to get comfortable, which is difficult when he’s all legs and arms and your bed is barely big enough for one person.

You snort, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “It’s a college dorm, Satoru. I don’t exactly get to choose the furniture.”

“Well, the furniture sucks.” He presses a slow, lazy kiss against your forehead. “Or maybe you’re just tiny.”

“Or maybe,” you counter, poking his side, “you’re just huge.”

Satoru suddenly shifts, propping himself up on one elbow as his fingers idly trace patterns along your arm. His voice takes on that telltale tone—the one that means he’s about to drop some nerdy fact on you.

“Hey, you ever heard of convergence theory?”

You groan. “Oh my God, Satoru, not now.”

He ignores you, of course. “It’s from social psychology. You should know this, considering your major and all… Okay, anyways, so, it’s this idea in social psychology that people with different backgrounds and experiences will—over time—start to develop similar beliefs and behaviors just by being around each other.”

You lift your head slightly to squint at him. “Are you seriously psychoanalyzing us after sex?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “And I’m saying that clearly, you and I spend way too much time together because you’re starting to become just as shameless as me.”

You roll your eyes, flopping back against his chest. “Yeah, or maybe I was always like this and you’re just now realizing it.”

He hums, tucking his chin over the top of your head. “Dunno… guess we’ll have to spend more time together to find out.”

You feel his smile against your hair, and your lips twitch. “Oh? Sounds like you’re trying to extend our little tutoring arrangement.”

“Mm, maybe. Though I think it’s safe to say you’re officially a math genius now, thanks to me.”

You snort. “Math genius is a stretch.”

“Nah, you’re brilliant,” he counters, his tone uncharacteristically soft before he ruins the moment entirely. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—sometimes I still think your brain is full of shit, but you’ve come a long way.”

You gasp, lightly smacking his arm. “Asshole.”

He laughs, catching your wrist with ease before lacing his fingers through yours. “You love it.”

“You wish.”

“Actually, I know,” he says smugly. “Because if I remember correctly, you were very, very into me just a few minutes ago. Actually scratch that, I was very into you, literally, I mean I literally came inside—“

Heat creeps up your neck as you scoff, pulling away slightly to glare at him. “And you absolutely just killed the moment.”

Satoru just grins, unbothered, before something flickers in his expression—something nervous, hesitant. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

He clears his throat. “Uh, speaking of… y’know… us.”

You blink. “That’s a weird segue.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to—” He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I swear it’s not just because we had sex—not that the sex wasn’t great, because it was, I mean, obviously, it’s me—”

“Satoru.”

“Right, right, I’m getting there.” He shakes his head, then glances down at you, nervousness creeping into his normally easy confidence. “I just… I really like you. Like, not just in a ‘this is fun and flirty’ kind of way, but in a ‘holy shit, I actually care about you and want to keep seeing you’ kind of way.”

Your breath catches, your heart suddenly hammering against your ribs.

He fumbles on, growing more flustered. “And—fuck—I don’t want you to think this is some post-sex high talking because I’ve actually liked you for a while now, and I thought I was being all cool and subtle about it, but Suguru told me I was being about as subtle as a brick to the face, so—”

You laugh, cutting him off. “Wow, you’re really bad at this.”

He groans, flopping onto his back dramatically. “I know! This is so much harder than it needs to be.”

You grin, shifting to prop yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him. “Well, since we’re doing confessions, I should probably tell you that I’ve liked you for a while too.”

His head snaps toward you, cerulean eyes wide. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Obviously,” you say, mimicking his earlier words. “I mean, did you think I let every annoying asshole bully me into extra tutoring sessions and make fun of the way my graphs are wonky?”

“I knew you liked me,” he says smugly, but his voice is softer now, like he’s savoring the words.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, are you gonna ask me properly or just keep making a mess of it?”

Satoru exhales, shaking his head with a grin before he turns onto his side, looking at you seriously. He lifts a hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before letting his fingers linger against your cheek.

“Be my girlfriend?” he asks, and for once, there’s no teasing in his tone. Just sincerity.

Your lips curve as you reach up, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I’d love to.”

His smile is instant, bright and dazzling, before he’s suddenly pulling you on top of him, wrapping his arms around you as he rolls onto his back. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “You’re mine now.”

You laugh, settling against his chest. “I guess I am.”

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his grin still evident against your skin. “Good. Because I plan on annoying the hell out of you for a long time.”

You sigh dramatically. “Lucky me.”

But really, you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

—

bonus - 

You sit cross-legged on Satoru’s ridiculously plush couch, one of his oversized hoodies draped over your frame as you anxiously refresh your university portal for the hundredth time. The apartment around you is an unfair testament to just how absurdly wealthy he is—floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek modern furniture, a TV that takes up an entire wall.

But right now, none of that matters. All that matters is the stupid little number that’s about to determine whether you passed your math exam.

“Babe,” Satoru drawls from behind you, where he’s lounging far too comfortably. “You’re gonna give yourself a stroke. Just wait for the email.”

“I can’t wait for the email,” you hiss, refreshing again. “I need to know now.”

Satoru sighs dramatically before sauntering over, flopping onto the couch beside you. He props his chin on your shoulder, peering at your screen with an exaggerated squint.

“Oh, look at that,” he muses, lips curling at the corner. “Anxious little thing, aren’t you?”

You elbow him in the ribs. He just grins, unfazed.

And then—

Your breath catches in your throat. The grade pops up on the screen, crisp and undeniable. A good grade. A very good grade.

“I—holy shit, I passed!” You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands before twisting to look at Satoru, eyes wide with disbelief. “I actually passed!”

He lets out a loud, triumphant whoop, grabbing you by the waist and hauling you into his lap. “Knew it! Knew my baby was a genius!”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you slightly, pressing sloppy, exaggerated kisses all over your face. “Satoru, stop—”

“Never,” he declares, before finally catching your lips in a proper kiss—deep, warm, tasting like sugar from whatever ridiculously expensive snack he’d been eating earlier.

He pulls back just enough to grin down at you. “Sooo… celebratory sex?”

“Oh my God.” You smack his chest, and he cackles. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?” he says, all faux innocence, but then his grin turns slow and lazy, and he suddenly looks far too pleased with himself. “You know, Aristotle once said that excellence is not an act, but a habit.”

You narrow your eyes. “And?”

“And I think,” he murmurs, nosing along your jaw, “that we should make this a habit.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “You are so horny. Give it a rest, freak”

He smirks. “Mmm, I can’t help it.”

You roll your eyes. But then—maybe it’s the rush of relief, or the way he’s looking at you, or maybe you just don’t want to hear any more Aristotle quotes—

You thread your fingers into his hair and tug, just hard enough to make his breath hitch.

“Alright,” you say, lips curling. “I’ll take you up on that previous offer. Just to shut you up.”

Satoru just grins, eyes dark and so smug.

“Baby, you are so gonna regret saying that.”

You don’t.

a/n: i hope everyone knows i had to research physics in my free time to get the convos to sound somewhat coherent AND go through my old mathematics textbook and math notes-- BUT ITS WORTH IT I LOVE EVERYONE ON TUMBLR AND I LOVE PHYSICS NERD SATORU!!!

can't even think of the word physics anymore without thinking of my glorious king..

but thank you for reading and waiting for this fic :)

[hisnameisbeanie]

^ Hope it's cool to add to this, because that ending line caught me off guard, lmao! (No hate, just surprised!)

I'm a transman, and maybe I can share information that might help people who are either considering transitioning themselves, or trying to write about a trans character. Though it's worth mentioning that everyone's experience with transitioning is different, and there is no 'right way' to transition. (I've personally been on testosterone for 7 years).

That being said, I knew about some of the changes I could expect from taking hormones, but I wasn't prepared for all of it.

My voice got squeaky and would crack, and now it's deep. I have facial hair, which is taking it's time with filling in properly, but it's noticeable! And not really having to deal with periods anymore has been amazing, though a change in meds has caused occasional spotting, which sucks.

There was also a huge shift in my mood, because testosterone makes you angrier. Like you're just...mad, for no fucking reason. And it took me a while to figure out that that was a side effect, and once I did, I worked at handling myself better.

My libido went up, my pain tolerance went down, my acne came back shouting, "AND ANOTHER THING," and my facial structure changed. And because of that last one, I now have to wear swimmer's ear plugs in the shower, or I will end up getting an ear infection, because my ears can't drain the water normally anymore. (I use a wax removal spray now so I can still keep my ears clean).

I knew I'd get chest hair and the trail on my stomach, but holy shit the sheer amount of hair that is just EVERYWHERE? My arms and legs are hairier (like the hair is thicker), and while I don't have hairy feet, I do have hairy TOES?? And somewhere else that was an oddly specific choice for my body to make, and would probably be TMI for this post, so I'll spare everyone.

But I think the thing that caught me the most off guard, was the pain. It thankfully didn't happen for long, and it hasn't happened in years, but testosterone can cause a condition known as clitoromegaly. The symptoms include:

The clitoris and clitoral hood can grow longer and wider.

The clitoris might feel different during sex.

It might get hard when you're aroused.

You might experience some pain or sensitivity.

(Thank you Google).

And there are a lot of different types of testosterone that you can take, though I've taken it in shot form for the majority of my transition. Minus like a 2 month period where I had to use the gel, which I was not a fan of for texture sensory reasons.

It always fascinated me that when trans people took hormones, they. Worked. I mean this PURELY from a biological standpoint. We think of "male" bodies and "female" bodies as so different, but the reality is they just aren't. A human body will know what to do with the tools you give it, even if it's never had those tools before.

Put testosterone in a "female" body, and it'll know how to grow a beard. It just will.

Put estrogen in a "male" body, and it'll know how to form breasts. It just will.

It doesn't matter what the "original" sex was, a human body is a human body and it knows what to do. We were never different. We just think we are because we think it makes more sense. But it doesn't. I make way less sense, actually.

I think that's fascinating and kind of beautiful. Honestly

And I never thought the place to explore this line of thinking thoroughly would be a Hazbin Hotel mpreg fanfiction but HERE WE ARE

[gb-patch]

Structure Poll Results

Hello again everyone, GB here!

The release structure poll for Our Life: Now & Forever has closed. Nearly 10,000 people voted, and we got hundreds and hundreds of thoughts people left about the idea. I want to say thank you so much for the supportive and understanding messages. It made me pretty emotional to see how much people loved the game and cared about the team 😭 💖

To restate how this worked, players could vote for or against the idea of OL: N&F releasing Step by Step. We would change our original plan to launch the first three Steps together if people wanted us to. But we wouldn’t do such a major shift if people weren’t interested or there was more of a split in the community. With that said, this is the poll-

Yeah, it’s almost exactly 50/50 between people who want the episodic release and those who don’t actively want it! That could have made this complicated, but after thinking about it and reading the reasons for and against the options, I do think the decision we’re going with will be for the best.

Our Life: Now & Forever will not release episodically. However, there’s going to be truly massive updates to the demo this year.

And this is why: a true early access release with DLC content becoming available would impact things in ways that might not be worth it. Us as a company would have to promote an episodic release the same way we would the entire game launching, and then we’d have do that again when the next Step came out. We’d have to be concerned with sales numbers and such before the base game was even done. Also, the game would be releasing for the entire world, not just for our current players. That isn’t the type of work we want to jump into ASAP unless it was what a majority of players really wanted. The point of this was always meant to be something good for the people most excited about the project.

If we keep OL:NF as a demo and focus on putting out a ton of the free-to-play parts of the story, we can make this all about our fanbase and that’s it. We could drop a 100,000 word demo update and move on with our day like it’s nothing ‘cause it’s not a proper launch. A lot of the best content has been left out of the demo, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. We could make the demo a more fulfilling experience without impacting anything behind the scenes or putting anything up for sale.

Not only that, but those who don’t want to see too much of the game before it’s fully launched will then be able to avoid the extra content more easily since it’s hidden away as a demo instead of getting the full marketing treatment. Sure, it might confuse newcomers who try the demo and find out it’s absurdly long for a demo, however that’s not the end of the world.

Since there is this clear divide, I think a compromise that tries to avoid the main things people were worried about while keeping as many of the benefits as we can is better than simply choosing one side or the other.

I hope that sounds like a positive development. Look forward to future announcements about the mega-sized demo expansions that will be on the way in coming months! And thank you again for following along with the development of Our Life: Now & Forever ����️

[bunni-v1]

Pure Vanilla Sfw & Nsfw Headcanons

🍓These are shorter than SMC's, purely (hah) since there's less to say about nsfw headcanons. He's a really simple guy, alright? Anyway, I hope you enjoy these. I'll be working on the poly hc's soon and also some requests -- cookie run related and not. Love you all MWAH!

MDNI (Seriously I'll find you)

Tw: None?; Grammar errors

Info: Pure Vanilla Cookie x Reader; Fluff; Angst (only a little); nsfw

-Pure Vanilla Cookie is a gentle soul. His hands are soft and kind to any and all he meets, and he does the most he can to keep the peace amongst those he holds dear. His calm demeanor makes him seem like the perfect candidate for a partner, but I’m gonna be 100% this guy has issues. 

-He has very real trauma from the Dark Flower War that keeps him up at night, despite how much he tries to hide it. Betrayal from one of his dearest friends also haunts him, despite things being… different now… it sticks with him as it would any normal cookie. He’s insecure to a level that a god-king should not be capable of, but he certainly feels that insecurity deeply. Oh, and he never got over White Lily Cookie.

-It’s also very likely that he wouldn’t deem himself ‘worthy’ of being loved in such a manner, especially after the situation with White Lily. He can’t save his friends, he can’t save his subjects, what would he do if he couldn’t save a lover? It would be better not to have his heart broken like that.

-Not to mention his experience with relationships is… sparse. Other than White Lily Cookie, he hasn’t really had much romantic experience – nor did he want to. His focus is often set elsewhere, and his humility can frequently get in the way of forming genuine connections with others.

-He’s so incredibly old now, he feels like his time has passed. Besides, any cookie who might proposition him is far younger, and while he respects them he wouldn’t want to get in the way of their opportunity to connect with someone who could be a better match.

-Not to mention he gets propositioned a lot. Many cookies like the idea of him, but few can actually handle how patient and gentle he really is. It doesn’t upset him, nor does he hold it against them, it’s just how the world seems to work out.

-Excuses, excuses, excuses with him. They’re never-ending.

-Then, of course, there was you. The sweet cookie you were, you had the patience of a saint. Any excuse he came up with, you seemed to find a way to prove him wrong. (You make him second guess if he really is patient, with how much you wait on him and work to prove him wrong).

-He isn’t testing you by any means when he pushes you away. Pure Vanilla Cookie really does believe you could do better than him. (Him! How could you do better than him!?) He’s trying to save you from himself, but the more steadfast you are the more he starts to fold and bend to what you like.

-It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy having you around, he quite prefers it when you’re by his side. You’re also so very pretty, he gazes at you when you aren’t looking more than he’d like to admit (his staff gives him quite the stink eye for this one). Your patience with him is admirable, and you make such an effort to get close to him. You’ve more than proven that you are serious about your confessions to him.

-After (literally) a thousand years, he decides just to try again. Leading you on was cruel, especially when he reciprocated your feelings, so he makes the effort of a confession – and great cookies above it was sweet.

-He brings you to his pagoda, a place you frequently spend sitting quietly next to him. He knows you’re fond of it, especially of the white lilies that bloom around it. You sit next to him as usual, staring off into the distance in thought while he watches you through his lashes. Your beauty is something he loves to behold, and he wonders if the kingdom would be alright if he did so for the next thousand years. Just like this, quiet and alone in the place you’ve both made your own.

-You laugh when you catch him staring, and his dough burns hot – both from the melodious sound and from being caught so shameless. He doesn’t let it linger too long, taking your hand in his with care he hadn’t shown you much yet. It’s a bit odd for him to suddenly be physical with you, but when he looks at you, and I mean looks at you, you understand what's happening.

-He tells you how he’s grown into his fondness for you, that he appreciates your patience with him and giving him a chance to think things over in himself before pushing him into a choice. He expresses what he loves about being around you and how he feels like himself when he is near your side. How he aches when you aren’t around, and that he worries for you all the time even though you’re more than safe in the walls of the kingdom.

-He goes on for so long that you have to cut him off and tell him you get the point, which just makes him laugh because that is something he likes about you. You never let him get too far ahead of himself or too deep in his head before you pull him back up for air.

-And, while you might’ve fallen first for his gentleness and his kindness, he falls leagues harder than you ever could. After his confession, he goes out of his way to have you around, and it’s not until nearly all of your things are within his room that he realizes maybe he got a little too deep a little too fast.

-Then you smile that smile and all his thoughts are washed away in favor of following after you on whatever adventure you had planned in the kingdom for the day.

-As a partner, believe it or not, Pure Vanilla Cookie is not physically affectionate so much as he is verbally affectionate. He prefers showing his love through words and acts of service. He will run himself ragged to make sure you won’t worry about anything. You’ll have to step in and stop him at times because he will go to the ends of earthbread for you.

-He’s so giving, always thinking of things he can do for you or gifts to get that would make you smile so widely at him. It’s something the other Ancients tease him relentlessly for, especially Golden Cheese and Hollyberry. 

-Though, they are all fond of you in their own way. It’s been a long time since Pure Vanilla has been so… contented with things. He finds pure joy in doting on you, and he feels secure having someone who loves him as he is. None of them can disapprove of you when you make him so happy.

-They tell you embarrassing stories of him when he was younger, not a hero or a god, but a regular cookie who tripped over his own two feet and made a fool of himself. They tell you plenty of embarrassing stories about him having earned his power too and believe that to be true, but the ones they seem most fond of are those before they rose to their current titles.

-Pure Vanilla always huffs and pouts, but doesn’t interject much more than that when he sees the wide grin on your face. Seeing you get along with his long-time friends is very important to him, so he’s glad they’ve taken a liking to you. 

-Even Dark Cacao Cookie seems to like you, humoring your little jokes and jabs as you give them. He feels as though he’s chosen the right cookie to love – though, he supposes you chose him and he just followed your lead like he always does.

-There is one tiny dilemma, though… White Lily Cookie. See, it’s not as though she is a threat to your relationship at all. She would never and could never interfere, even if she still held feelings for Pure Vanilla (if she ever did in the first place). Pure Vanilla is just a trainwreck of grief and regret surrounding her, his dearest friend.

-His love for you has never wavered, not once since he fell for you, but for a moment when he sees her, he’s terrified that it might. All of those feelings hit him at once, and he is again that reckless young cookie at the academy following her around like a lost puppy. She looks at him and his heart races, then it sinks to the pits of his stomach.

-How could he be so selfish to consider hurting you in such a way, for even a moment? He and White Lily Cookie were no longer the same as they were before their falling out, he knew that, and yet his past crept up on him like a monster in the shadows. It makes his stomach churn.

-But you lay a hand on his arm, and you give him this look like you know exactly what’s going on, and suddenly it’s all alright. You’re right here, and you’re all he needs. He knows that more than anyone else.

-That doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting in your chest when you see the way he looks at her, but you know your Pure Vanilla. He would never do anything to hurt you, he was the kindest and most loving cookie you have ever had the privilege to share your life with.

-Now, with that established, we can divulge into him as your partner.

-As I mentioned he’s very giving, but he’s terrible and receiving gifts from you. He’s not used to it, and he may outright refuse to accept it, but if you push him he’ll give. He always loves what you give him anyway, even if it’s the smallest insignificant thing. It always gets displayed somewhere he can see it, or he makes a way to use it in his daily life.

-It takes him a while to be open with you. He feels his feelings and thoughts are a burden on you, so his worries usually go unspoken unless you notice them yourself. 

-If you notice something and point it out, he’ll tell you what's wrong. He wouldn’t want to lie to you and make you more worried about things. He downplays it a lot, though. It takes a lot of stubbornness on your part to get him to open up and admit when he’s feeling really bad.

-He does let you in little by little, and you get to see more of Pure Vanilla as he is beneath all the smiles and passivity.

-I also mentioned that he’s verbally affectionate over physically. He gives you so much praise it makes your head spin in circles. Everything you do is worth praising in his eyes, even silly little things like finding your way through the castle or grabbing yourself something special to eat one day.

-Constantly mentions how lucky he is to have you, his admiration truly knows no end. Ah, and he speaks of you all around the kingdom. Other cookies think you’re a literal saint thanks to him, and you’re treated with so much respect by those in the cookie kingdom.

-Gingerbrave, Strawberry, and Wizard Cookie all adore you, and get so very excited when you offer to go on an adventure with them. (Much to Pure Vanilla’s worry and dismay.) The way you interact with them makes Pure Vanilla’s chest ache at the sight. You’re so wonderful with children, he loves seeing the way you handle them with love and care. Makes him wonder what you might be like with children of your own… Ah, that’s not a trail of thought he should go down too far just yet. One day, though.

-As sweet and loving as he is, he’s fiercely protective of you. He’s lost quite a bit in his life, and he knows he will lose more, he’d like to prevent another loss if he can help it though. If you argue with him, it’s almost always about this.

-He doesn’t like you going to dangerous locations, he doesn’t like it when you leave his side for more than a day or so, and he certainly doesn’t approve of you putting yourself at risk for adventure. Usually, you settle this by just having him come with you, but sometimes even that isn’t enough for him.

-Regardless, the angriest you see him (other than the Shadow Milk incident lol), is when you are at risk. It’s easy to forget he’s very powerful, akin to a god, but he is. He is not afraid to use that power to protect you if he must. (It’s lowkey hot I’m ngl.)

-Now he’s not the type to go overboard with this kind of stuff, he’ll only do what he must to remove the threat if he has to. He is not afraid to be violent if he needs to be, though. Immediately after he will worry over you with such gentleness it will give you whiplash.

-He’s aware his outbursts of anger are uncommon and jarring from his usual demeanor, but he’s just a cookie after all. He loves you very much, and if he can keep you safe he will for as long as you live.

-Jealousy is rare from him, which is to be expected, but he does get jealous. Specifically when he sees you interacting with cookies in a way he can’t interact with you. Physical affection is usually what gets him upset.

-Not that he can’t be physically affectionate, but that he has a hard time being physical with anyone. It’s a difficult thing he struggles with, and while you’re understanding and loving, he can’t stop the rare annoyance bubbling up in his chest when he sees one of your friends touching you so casually.

-It’s the only time other cookies might get to see him frown around the kingdom, a displeased expression etched across his normally gentle features. It won’t fade until you return your attention to him and make him feel validated in his feelings.

-After these stints, it is common that he drags you (pulls you gently by your hand) back to his room and cuddles up to you in the quiet of his bedroom. He’ll whisper his worries at your insistence, and melt into your touch as you soothe him instead of scolding like most others would.

-Oh, and it’s very very bad when Shadow Milk Cookie is involved. Shadow Milk knows just how to get under his skin, and you are an easily accessible soft spot.

-Not only is Shadow Milk far more open in expressing himself than Pure Vanilla is, but he’s very physical with everything. While Shadow Milk may not see you as anything more than a doll to play with, it infuriates Pure Vanilla to see him touch you and flirt with you like you are his when you are Pure Vanilla’s. 

-He brings out that possessive side of Pure Vanilla that he represses as hard as he can. He doesn’t want to share you, though. Not with anyone and especially not Shadow Milk Cookie. You are his life partner, the person he loves more than anything in the world, that’s not something he’s ever had before and he doesn’t want anyone else to be able to feel what your love feels like. Allow him to be selfish just this once.

-I also have a belief that ancients have something similar to a beast bite, though it’s less common that any of them “mark” a partner. Pure Vanilla is the least likely to leave such a mark on you unless you seem insistent upon learning about it.

-Functionally it’s similar to the beast bite, but there is no need for biting in their case – they can if they’d like to, though. Instead, it’s just a magical seal that can be placed upon your dough that resembles their souljam. It connects the two of you physically and emotionally. 

-When Pure Vanilla misses you, it sends a wave of sadness through you. A longing that is not your own, but feels so familiar to your own that you could easily mistake it as such. His emotions always come in big waves that nearly drown you then quiet down again as soon as they come.

-Pure Vanilla, again, wouldn’t place one on you unless you really wanted it. If you did, though, he would place it right where your spine meets your neck. The little blue mark peeks over the tops of your shirts like a tease, reminding everyone who you are with.

-Just because he is kind doesn’t mean he can’t also be a little possessive of you. You’re wonderful, after all, he can’t risk any cookie thinking you’re available.

-Besides the blue looks stunning on your dough, if he says so himself. And he does.

-Now, onto the bedroom.

-To start I’ll say Pure Vanilla is deceptively innocent-looking. It’s easy to imagine he feels no urges or wants in a sexual sense, but that’s not true at all. He’s just good at repressing them. And he’s repressed them for years and years and years.

-His sexual experience is probably also low, but I can imagine he’s had sex previously with a cookie or two (maybe even White Lily, depending on the circumstances). The important thing is that he has experience, and he’s not as awkward about it as one might think.

-It’s very similar to how he falls in love with you, once he gets a taste he really can’t stop himself from falling further and further down.

-He’s very patient though, so he won’t initiate your first time together. He’d rather you decide that since he’s more than ready to do whatever you’d like. (He’d been thinking about it since three months in, but he didn’t want to move too fast so he just pretended nothing was wrong.)

-When you do decide you are ready, he is there waiting with open arms for you. He makes sure your first time together is all about what you want and focuses on making sure you feel good. He’s a people pleaser in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

-But, if he had to pick what he preferred, he’d probably admit to being a service top. He likes to make you feel good, and he wants to know everything that makes your body react to him. He treats it like a secret ancient knowledge that only he is privy to. 

-He likes to know you in every aspect of your life, the bedroom is no different. He takes his time always, preferring to go slow and steady rather than fast and rough. He’s a quick learner too, picking up your likes and dislikes with an ease that would make any student jealous. Within two, maybe three sessions he’s got you read like a book. It’s infuriating how easily he manages to get you to melt under his touch.

-If you want to top, he’ll oblige you, though you can tell he really prefers taking care of you over being taken care of. There’s just something so special about being allowed to have you like this. So soft and pliant beneath him. All the trust in the world rests on his shoulders, and he holds it like it is the most important thing in the world.

-And he is so, so giving during sex.

-He takes his time with you, starting with slow and deep kisses that trail down your neck. He worships you like a god, smothering your dough with his affections. Not an inch of you will be left untouched from his lips, burning your skin into his memories so he never forgets how it feels beneath his tongue.

-And he whispers such loving words of admiration, talking about how wonderful you are for him. Mumbling against you that you taste so sweet and that each noise you make sounds like a symphony to his ears. He encourages you to let go, allow him to love you as you are, and let him see all the most vulnerable sides of you because that is all he wants.

-When he tastes your juices he sighs like he is in heaven. His pleasure is only found in you, after all. Your taste is something he could easily fall into addiction for, just like every other part of you.

-You can be rough with him while he goes down on you if you’d like, he doesn’t mind at all. Grab and pull at his hair, grind yourself into his face, and squeeze him between your legs with all your might. They’re just signs he’s doing his job right, after all.

-Oh, he’s a huge proponent of eye contact. While he can’t quite see well all the time, he always has his eyes open and on you when he can help it. This is especially prevalent when he is inside you (or when you are inside him).

-He presses his forehead to yours and watches your face contort in pleasure, allowing you to do the same. It makes the act more intimate, and he feels so much more connected to you like this. Like he can really see you for who you are in these moments, and feel that love that burns for him in your gaze.

-Alongside this, he always holds your hand. Regardless of if he’s going down on you or if you’re riding him or anything he is adamant your hands remain interlocked. It’s another layer of connection that he uses as a means of expressing his love for you.

-If you can’t tell, he’s seriously into body worship. He loves every inch of you, and sex is the easiest way that he can express this to you.

-He uses sex as an extension of his affection for you, rather than something for fun or to stake claim. It’s another form of love to him, and you can feel this through the way he treats you with such gentleness during the whole act.

-I don’t believe he’s into much other than what I’ve listed above. He’s very vanilla (lol) and traditional about sex, preferring things to be simple, sweet, and loving. 

-He prefers to keep things in the bedroom, the idea of being caught makes him run hot, but you can convince him to try a few riskier places. Like the pagoda or in quiet rooms near other cookies, so long as the doors are locked and there’s no risk of interruption.

-He does not like being cared for during the deed, it makes him feel guilty that you’re caring for him when he would rather care for you. If you are insistent he’ll give in, but he makes it known he would prefer to be providing than being provided for.

[lifeisbutadream444]

Playing Games

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: A passionate yet complicated friends-with-benefits arrangement unravels as you finally confronts Aaron about his inability to commit.

Warnings: 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, p in v, bdsm themes

A/N: First thing I've ever posted, mostly porn with a crumb of plot.

The hotel suite is dimly lit, city lights flickering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your skin is still warm, the sheets tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the air. Aaron lies beside you, bare-chested, arm draped lazily across his forehead, his breathing steady but not quite asleep.

"You good?" His voice is rough, sleep-laced, breaking the silence.

You hesitate. "Yeah."

He turns his head, studying you. "Liar."

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you're about to say. " I don't think we should do this anymore."

Aaron's brow furrows slightly at your words, his striking blue-grey eyes searching your face. He props himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping dangerously low on his hips.

"Hey now, what's all this about?" His deep voice is soft, almost concerned, but there's an undercurrent of tension. 

"Talk to me, sweetheart." He reaches out, fingers brushing along your arm, touch feather-light. It's a gesture meant to soothe, but you sense the calculation behind it. Aaron is always aware, always assessing.

"I thought we had something good going here. No strings, no bullshit." A slow smirk curves his full lips. "Or am I mistaken?"

You sigh. "I need to focus on finding someone to build an actual future with Aaron. We’ve been doing this for over a year. I obviously love fucking you, but watching you constantly flirt with other women at every event, seeing them leave your apartment at 3:00 am on TMZ, it gets old after a while."

Aaron's hand stills on your arm, his expression shifting - surprise, then a flash of something harder to read. He sits up fully, running a hand over his face. "Shit..." He sighs, the sound heavy in the quiet room. "I didn't realize it was bothering you that much. I've always been straight up about... my preferences."

His gaze finds yours, intense and searching. "But I get it. You're looking for more than just a good time these days." There's a note of understanding in his tone, but also regret.

He reaches for you, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. "I care about you, you know. More than just as a friend with benefits or whatever we are. But I'm not sure I'm built for that whole 'forever' thing yet."

"I understand Aaron, I really do." I sit up too, pulling the sheet around myself like armor. My heart aches but I force myself to hold his gaze steadily. This is important. I need him to truly hear me.

"I want to respect your boundaries and your current lifestyle. But I also need to respect my own needs and desires. And right now, those are leading me in a different direction. I hope we can still be friends though."

Aaron's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to your words. When you finish speaking, he's silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.

"You say you need to find someone to build a future with, but baby, look at what we have." His other hand slides from your cheek to tangle in your hair, tilting your face up towards his. "The chemistry between us is off the charts. I make you feel things no one else ever could."

“How would I know if I don’t even try?” you say, voice steady. “I haven’t been with anyone else since we started whatever this is.”

Aaron's eyes flash with anger and hurt at your flippant words. His grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Don't fucking joke about that," he snarls, voice rough with emotion. “You're not like me. You're better than that shallow shit."

He looms over you, naked and powerful, muscles coiled with tension. But there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a crack in his usual confident facade. "Is that what you really want? To be just another notch in someone's bedpost? Because I can tell you from experience, it's a lonely fucking road."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, touch almost tender despite the intensity smoldering in his eyes. "We can’t end things like this. Let me show you how good we can be together, outside the bedroom too."

You pull back slightly, meeting his intense gaze steadily, your own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Aaron, please... don't make this harder than it already is.” Your voice wavers slightly but you push on. "I appreciate everything you're saying, I do. But I can't keep settling for less than what I truly want and need."

I place my hand over his on my hip, squeezing gently. "We have an incredible physical connection, yes. But I need more. I need a partner, someone to build a life with. Someone who chooses me completely and exclusively."

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you continue. "As much as it hurts, I have to accept that person isn't you. We’ve been doing this for over a year now, and that would definitely be enough time to know if I’m worth that commitment. In your eyes, I’m obviously not considering you’re still fucking other women every week."

Aaron's eyes blaze with a storm of emotions - fear, anger, desperation, and beneath it all, a flicker of something deeper, more vulnerable. As the tear traces down your cheek, his expression crumples.

"Fuck, baby, don't cry," he rasps, voice thick with feeling. His hands move to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the moisture. "You are worth it. You're worth everything." He takes a shuddering breath, clearly struggling with his next words. 

"I know I haven't shown it well, but fuck, you mean more to me than anyone else. Than all the other women combined." Aaron's forehead comes to rest against yours. "I'm scared, okay? Scared of fucking this up, of losing you completely."

You sigh, "I think that if you were really scared of losing me we would’ve progressed into something more by now. Surely you didn't think I was just gonna be your fuck buddy forever, right?"

Aaron pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath. "You're right. I should have done something sooner." He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. 

"But I'm done being afraid. Done letting my own bullshit fears push away the person who matters most. Losing you is a lot scarier." One hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb stroking softly as he continues.

"Baby, I... I love you. Have for a while now. And I know I don't deserve you, but I'm asking anyway - give me a chance to be the man you need."

You stare at him in shock, hardly daring to breathe. Those three little words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise and possibility.

"You... you love me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, trembling with a fragile hope. "Really?"

Tears well up again, but this time they're tinged with joy rather than sorrow.

 "I love you too, Aaron. So much it scares me sometimes. But I know you too well. You love women. You love attention. You hate commitment. I feel like you’re only saying this as a last resort because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

You start removing the sheets from your body, moving to get up from the bed. Aaron's eyes widen in panic as you start to rise, his grip on your shoulders tightening. 

"No, wait! Don't go, please." Desperation colors his deep voice. He shifts, using his body weight to gently but firmly press you back onto the mattress. His gaze bores into yours, blue-grey eyes blazing with sincerity and barely restrained emotion. 

"I'm saying this because it's true, because I can't bear the thought of you walking out that door and out of my life." One hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you close. 

"I know I have a reputation, and I can't change my past. But I want to change my future. With you."

Aaron's heart clenches painfully as he sees the tears streaming down your face, hears the hitch in your breath as you try to pull away. He knows he's caused this pain, this doubt, and the realization guts him.

"Shh, baby, please don't cry," he murmurs, voice raw with emotion. Gently but insistently, he keeps you in place, one strong arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand cups your face, thumbs wiping away the tears.

"I know I have to prove myself to you. And I will, every fucking day if that's what it takes." His eyes search yours, pleading and determined. 

"Give me a chance to show you how serious I am. Stay with me tonight, talk to me in the morning. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust, your heart."

"It's just too late Aaron,” you reply through your tears. “It kills me, but I have to go."

Aaron's expression darkens, a flash of possessiveness and desperation in his eyes as he tightens his arms around you, holding you in place on the bed. 

"No, you don't have to go anywhere," he says, his voice low and insistent. “Not like this, not when we're finally being honest with each other. He shifts, hovering over you, using his larger frame to pin you gently but firmly to the mattress. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck.

"I know I've fucked up, that I've made mistakes. But I'm trying to make this right, baby. Can't you see that?" His eyes bore into yours, blue-grey irises swirling with emotion. "Don’t leave me, please."

Inside, your heart pounds—he’s finally refusing to let you go. But you keep up the act, teasing the edge of goodbye, waiting to see if he’ll chase you, if he’ll prove just how much he cares.

"Sweetheart, stop fighting this," he growls, the words rumbling through his chest and into yours. 

"I'm not letting you leave until you understand how much you mean to me." One large hand splays across your lower back, holding you flush against him while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back slightly to expose the column of your throat. Aaron dips his head, lips brushing the sensitive skin there as he speaks.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you here, to show you that you're the only woman I want, the only one I need." His lips graze your pulse point. "Tell me you'll stay."

You whimper softly, your body betraying you as it melts into his touch despite my resolve to leave. The heat of his skin, the strength of his embrace, the desperate need in his voice - it's all so overwhelmingly tempting.

"A-Aaron... you breathe, voice shaky. I want to believe you, I do. But I'm scared. Scared that this is just an empty promise, that you'll go back to your old ways as soon as I give in." Even as you speak, your hands come up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Tears still leak from the corners of your eyes but t

"How do I know this is real? That you're not just saying these things to get me to stay the night?"

Aaron's eyes flash with determination and raw, unfiltered emotion. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he speaks, voice low and fervent.

"It's real, baby. Every word, every feeling. I may not have said it before, but I've loved you for so long." His hand in your hair gentles, fingers combing through the strands almost reverently. 

"I know I have a lot to prove, that actions will always speak louder than words. But I'm ready to put in the work, to be the man you deserve." He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze head-on.

Your voice shakes, a mix of anger and something more painful. “How can you say you love me while you’ve been out fucking other women constantly? I haven’t even been able to think about anyone else since I’ve met you. I know we're not in a committee relationship and you have every right to sleep with whoever you want. I do appreciate you always being honest about it, but that definitely doesn't feel like love to me. ”

Aaron's expression contorts with guilt and frustration at your accusation. He shakes his head vehemently, dark hair falling into his eyes. 

"No, baby, it's not like that at all." His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn't release you entirely, as if afraid you'll slip away. 

"Those other women, they meant nothing. They were a distraction, a way to avoid facing my feelings for you.” He takes a shuddering breath, eyes pleading. “Please give me a chance to make this right. "

You wipe tears from your face. "Let me go, Aaron."

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he slowly releases his grip on you. His hands fall away from your body as he sits back on his heels, giving you space even as his eyes remain fixed on your face, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

"If that's truly what you want, then... I won't stop you," he says quietly, voice rough with emotion. "But please know that I meant every word I said. I love you, and I'm going to spend every day proving it to you, whether you're here with me or not."

You tell yourself you have to leave. That if you don’t walk away now, he’ll never take you seriously, never realize what he stands to lose. You want him to fight for you, to prove that this is more than just convenience, more than just a game he always wins.

As you move to leave, Aaron leaps up from the bed, his tall, muscular form blocking your path to the door.

"Baby, wait!" he calls out, voice cracking with urgency. In two quick strides, he's in front of you, one hand coming up to grasp your wrist gently but imploringly. 

His grip on your wrist tightens fractionally as he pulls you a step closer, using his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears.

Aaron captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up passion and desperation into the heated caress. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you, as his strong arms wrap around your waist to lift you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist instinctually. In a few swift strides, he carries you back to the bed, laying you down on the rumpled sheets.

He looms over you, eyes dark with lust and determination. "I'm gonna remind you exactly why you belong with me." His hands make quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside carelessly as he exposes your skin to his hungry gaze. Calloused fingertips trace the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Aaron settles between your thighs, pushing them apart to grant himself unrestricted access to your most intimate area. He inhales deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent before diving in, his skilled tongue delving between your folds to lap at your essence.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, circling and flicking the bundle of nerves with practiced precision.

As your moans fill the room, he reaches for the vibrator you kept in his nightstand, turning it on to a low hum. "Let's see how many times I can make you come undone," he purrs wickedly, dragging the toy along your slit teasingly before pressing it firmly against your aching clit.

Aaron works you relentlessly with his mouth and the vibrator, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. Just as you teeter on the cusp of climax, he pulls back, denying you that final push.

"Not yet, baby," he murmurs, voice husky with desire. "You don't get to come until you say you’re mine. Until you promise to give us a real chance."

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts, suckling and teasing your nipples until you're writhing beneath him. His hard length throbs against your thigh, a testament to his own arousal, but he ignores it in favor of focusing solely on your pleasure... and your compliance.

"I can do this all night, sweetheart," he warns playfully, nipping at your earlobe.

You’re trembling, your body wound tighter than a bowstring, desperate for release. I look up at Aaron, his handsome face blurry through the haze of lust.

"P-please, Aaron," I whimper brokenly, hips bucking futilely against the cool air. "I can't... I need... Fuck!"

He grins wickedly, clearly reveling in the power he holds over you. "What was that, baby? I didn't quite catch what you said." He circles your clit with the vibrator, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm.

Aaron drinks in the sight of you, sprawled out beneath him, trembling and desperate, your tear-streaked face a beautiful portrait of need. He feels a surge of masculine pride, mixed with genuine tenderness, at the effect he has on you.

"That's it, sweetheart," he croons, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Just say the words. Tell me you'll stay, that you're mine, and I'll give you everything you crave."

He increases the pressure of the vibrator, holding it steady against your throbbing clit as his free hand slides down to tease your entrance. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust and challenge. "I can feel how badly you need this, how much you need me. Don't fight it anymore, baby. I’m tired of arguing with you.”

Aaron’s frustration mounts as you continue to resist despite your obvious desperation.

"You're so stubborn, baby girl," he growls, equal parts exasperated and aroused. "But I'm more determined than you are. I'll keep you right on this edge until you surrender to me completely."

To emphasize his point, he suddenly plunges two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked channel, curling them just right to stroke that special spot inside you.

At the same time, he sucks hard on your clit, the dual stimulation threatening to overwhelm you. "Last chance, sweetheart," he pants against your flesh, eyes glinting with challenge and dark promise.

"Or what?" you challenge. Your body is on fire, but you’re not giving him what he wants so quickly.

Aaron's eyes flash dangerously at your defiant question, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He withdraws his fingers from your aching core, ignoring your whimper of protest, and flips you onto your stomach with ease.

"Oh, baby girl," he purrs darkly, draping his larger frame over your back, caging you in with his arms. "If you keep testing me like this, I might just have to punish that sweet little ass of yours."

One large hand slides down to grope your rear roughly, kneading the supple flesh. The other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his.

You gasp and moan as he manhandles you, your body responding eagerly to his dominant touch despite your lingering resistance. The threat of punishment sends a forbidden thrill racing down your spine, even as a part of me rebels against being so thoroughly conquered.

"P-punish me?" You manage to stammer out between shaky breaths, trying to inject bravado into your voice that you don't quite feel. 

"And what exactly did you have in mind, big boy?" You arch your back slightly, pressing your ass more firmly into his groping hand, torn between the desire to submit and the need to maintain some semblance of control. Your inner walls flutter weakly, still aching for the fulfillment only he can provide.

"Mmm, such a naughty girl, taunting me like this," he murmurs approvingly. "I think I'll start by turning this pretty pink ass a nice, deep red. Maybe that will get your attention..."

To punctuate his words, he delivers a firm spank to your right cheek, the sting quickly melting into warmth. His palm rubs the abused skin soothingly before repeating the action on the left side. All the while, he rocks his clothed erection against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal. "And if that doesn't convince you to behave..."

Aaron leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "Then I might have to tie you up, spread you wide open, and tease this needy little body of yours for hours. Keep you right on the razor's edge, begging so sweetly for release, until you're ready to agree to anything just to cum."

His hand snakes around to your front, fingers dipping teasingly through your slick folds. "Would you like that, baby girl? Being completely at my mercy, helpless to do anything but feel?"

You shudder and moan, your body following your true desires even as your mind struggles to hold onto its reservations. The spanks send jolts of painful pleasure radiating through you, stoking the flames of your arousal.

"Ahh...f-fuck, Aaron..." you pant, your voice thick with need. "You can't...can't just...ah!" Another spank cuts off your weak protests, the sensation making your toes curl. The image he paints - of being tied up, spread out, and teased mercilessly - sends a bolt of liquid heat straight to your core. "Yes I want that." you admit.

Aaron smiles triumphantly as he hears the breathy admission fall from your lips, your body's reactions telling him everything he needs to know.

"That's my good girl," he praises huskily, rubbing your ass. "Admitting what you really want. And we both know what that is, don't we, sweetheart?"

True to his word, Aaron secures your wrists above your head with soft ropes, the silky material a delicious contrast to your sensitized skin. He takes a moment to admire the view - you, splayed out and vulnerable, flushed with arousal and anticipation. His eyes rake over your body hungrily, drinking in every dip and curve.

Aaron starts with feather-light touches, tracing the delicate folds of your labia with the tip of his tongue. He laves at your slit, savoring your unique flavor, before zeroing in on your aching clit. A single, purposeful flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud has you keening, your back arching off the bed.

"Mmm, so sensitive," he murmurs appreciatively, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. "I could make you cum just like this, couldn't I? With barely any effort at all."

To prove his point, he seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently, alternating with quick, pointed flicks of his tongue. Two fingers plunge deep into your weeping channel, curling to stroke that special spot inside you.

Aaron works you over with single-minded focus, determined to push you to the brink of ecstasy again and again. He varies his technique, switching between broad licks and targeted flicks, alternating suction and pressure on your clit. His fingers pump steadily, twisting and curling, finding new angles to stimulate your innermost depths.

Your thighs tremble and quake around his head as he feasts on you, the obscene sounds of your arousal filling the room. He can feel you tightening around his invading digits, your body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Just as you teeter on the very edge, he pulls back, denying you that final push. "Not yet, baby, he admonishes playfully, blowing cool air over your drenched folds. You haven't agreed yet."

You writhe and moan, tears of frustration leaking from the corners of your eyes as Aaron edges you relentlessly once again. Your body is wound so tightly, every nerve ending screaming for release, but he denies you again and again, keeping you balanced precariously on the knife's edge of climax.

"Please, Aaron!" you beg, voice raw with need. "I can't.... Ahhh!" Your words dissolve into incoherent cries as he suckles particularly hard on your clit, the pleasure bordering on pain. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" You tug desperately at her bonds, craving something, anything to ground yourself. But there's no escape from the exquisite torture he's inflicting.

Aaron notices your continued resistance, even as your body screams for release. A wicked gleam enters his eye as an idea takes shape. He reaches into the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a sleek black anal plug and a small, soft-bristled brush.

"Let's see how long this stubborn streak of yours lasts, baby girl," he purrs, voice dripping with dark promise. Without warning, he presses the tapered tip of the small plug against your tightly furled rosebud, applying gentle but insistent pressure.

The cool metal contrasts deliciously with the scorching heat of your skin as he slowly works the toy deeper, pausing to let you adjust. Once seated fully, he gives a subtle wiggle, sending sparks of new sensation radiating through your core.

You gasp as the foreign object invades your ass, the stretch and fullness sending shockwaves of sensation through her body. You feel impossibly empty and aching, yet stuffed so deliciously full at the same time. The anal plug shifts with every movement, keeping you hyperaware and on edge.

"Aaahh! Aaron!" you cry out, back arching off the bed as he wiggles the toy teasingly. Tears of overwhelming stimulation prick at the corners of her eyes. "It's too much, I can't-" But your protests are cut short as he dives back between your thighs, that wicked tongue of his lashing at your swollen, throbbing clit again.

He laps at your clit with broad, flat strokes of his tongue, reveling in how sensitive and responsive you've become. The addition of the anal plug seems to heighten every touch exponentially.

He picks up the small, soft-bristled brush, the fluffy head barely an inch wide. Teasingly, he runs the delicate bristles along your slit, catching on your engorged clit with each pass. The light, tickling sensation is maddening, keeping you poised on the knife's edge of orgasm without allowing you to topple over.

You're practically sobbing with need now. Every brush of the soft bristles against your aching clit sends lightning bolts of pleasure zinging up your spine. Combined with the constant pressure and stretch of the anal plug, you feel like you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

"P-please, Aaron," you whimper brokenly, voice hoarse from crying out. "I can't... I need... Fuck, I need to cum so badly!" Tears stream freely down your face now, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations consuming her.

Aaron pauses his torment, lifting his head to take in the sight of you - tear-streaked face contorted in agonized bliss, chest heaving with ragged breaths, muscles pulled taut as a bowstring. He drinks in your desperation like fine wine, relishing the power he holds over you.

"Shhh, I know, sweetheart," he croons, voice low and soothing despite the wicked glint in his eyes. "I can see how much you need it. How close you are. But you know what you have to do to earn that release."

He leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "Tell me you're mine, baby. Give yourself to me completely, and I'll let you cum harder than you ever have before. Keep fighting it, and I'll leave you like this, aching and unfulfilled."

Aaron watches your anguished pleas with a mixture of dark satisfaction and growing impatience, shocked that you haven’t used your safe word yet. He can see the war raging within you - the desperate need for completion battling against your stubborn refusal to surrender completely. It's a delicious sight, but he's tired of these games.

"Enough," he says sharply, voice brooking no argument. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, the sudden change in position making the plug shift inside you deliciously. He drapes himself over your back, one large hand splaying across your shoulder blades to pin you down. His other hand snakes around to your front, fingers delving between your legs to circle your clit with ruthless precision.

"Listen closely, baby," he growls in your ear, hips grinding against your ass. "This is your last chance."

Your body suddenly seizes with the force of a life changing orgasm, Aaron curses under his breath, equal parts frustrated and impressed by your lack of control. He doesn't let up his ministrations, fingers continuing their merciless assault on your clit as you thrash beneath him, lost to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Didn't I tell you not to cum without permission?" he growls, voice thick with disapproval even as he grinds against your spasming body, prolonging your peak.

"Such a naughty girl, disobeying me like that." Despite his stern words, there's a note of dark satisfaction in his tone. Your loss of control is a testament to how thoroughly he's unraveled you, brought you to the brink of madness with desire.

Your body trembles and jerks as the aftershocks of her climax roll through you, leaving you boneless and spent. You've never felt so utterly owned, so completely at someone else's mercy.

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I couldn't help it." Even in the aftermath of your orgasm, your body aches for more, craving his touch like a drug. The anal plug shifts inside you with every shuddering breath, keeping you acutely aware of your own arousal. You've never felt so desperate, so willing to submit to another person's every whim.

Aaron's expression softens slightly at the genuine remorse in your voice, though the hunger in his eyes remains undiminished. He gentles his touch, fingers slowing their frenzied pace to languid circles around your still-throbbing clit. His other hand slides up to cup your cheek and tilt your face towards his.

"Shh, it's alright, baby," he murmurs, voice a low, soothing rumble. "I know it was too much to resist. You did so well holding on for as long as you did." He captures your lips in a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing your whimpers and moans. He flips you on your back again, his gaze is intense, boring into yours with smoldering intent.

Aaron's eyes flash with sadistic glee as he reaches for the vibrator, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He knows exactly how to push you to your limits, to make you scream and beg and plead for mercy. And he intends to do just that.

"Since you seem to enjoy cumming without permission so much," he purrs, turning the toy to its highest setting, "I think it's time for round two of your punishment."

Without further preamble, he presses the buzzing head directly against your throbbing clit, holding it steady despite your bucking hips. The intense vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure-pain ricocheting through your oversensitized body, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.

Aaron watches with dark satisfaction as you writhe and convulse beneath the relentless assault of the vibrator, your body no longer your own. He can feel the tension building in your core, the way your walls flutter and clench around nothing, desperate for something to fill them.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Cum for me again. Show me how much you love being punished, how much you need my touch."

“I can’t, Aaron!” your scream. Aaron ignores your anguished pleas, keeping the vibrator pressed firmly against your abused clit. He revels in the sight of you, so beautifully broken, tears and sweat mingling on your flushed skin as you fall apart in his arms once again.

Even after another orgasm, he doesn’t relent, keeping the vibratior on your swollen clit no matter how hard you buck your hips to avoid it.

"Shh, just breathe through it, baby," he croons, voice deceptively gentle even as he continues the torturous stimulation. "You're doing so well, taking your punishment like a good girl."

His free hand strokes down your trembling thigh, almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the brutal pleasure he's inflicting. Suddenly, he stops the vibrator.

"Ready for more, sweetheart?" he purrs dangerously, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“No, I can’t take anymore, please.” you reply, your voice raspy from screaming.

Aaron hilts himself inside you with one powerful thrust, groaning at the exquisite tightness enveloping him. He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours as he pounds into your sensitive flesh. Each drag of his cock against your inner walls sends sparks of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe." To have Daddy's big, fat cock all to yourself? To be the only one I fuck, the only one I give attention to?"

One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the column of your throat. He latches onto the delicate skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, to brand you as his. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight, holding you in place as he rails into you.

You whimper and moan, overwhelmed by the intense sensations "Y-yes, yes, I want you all to myself!" your nails dig into his back, clinging to him desperately as he claims you thoroughly, chasing his own release.

"Okay baby," he whispers, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "I'm not gonna fuck anyone else again. Only you, okay?" He grinds against your cervix with each snap of his hips, determined to stake his claim on your very soul. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he pants harshly.

"I’m serious Aaron... I can't take anymore!" Your hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The anal plug shifts with each movement, adding to the cacophony of sensations assaulting your nerves.

"That's it, baby," he encourages darkly as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Let me hear those pretty sounds. Cry for me, beg for me. Show me how much you need me."

"Please," you rasp, voice little more than a broken whisper. "Please, Aaron. I... I won't leave you. I'm yours, okay?" The words fall from your lips like a prayer, a desperate supplication.

In that moment, you know you'd agree to anything, give him anything, if only he'd put an end to this sweet torture. Your pride, your stubbornness, all the walls you've built around her heart - they crumble to dust in the face of her all-consuming desire.

Aaron slows his thrusts, grinding deep inside you as he gazes down at your face intently. His eyes bore into yours, dark with possession and barely restrained lust.

"If you want to come one last time," he says, voice a low, dangerous purr, "tell me you love me. Tell me you'll never even think about leaving me again." He rolls his hips deliberately, stirring up your insides. "Tell me."

Shaking, you finally say, "I-I love you, Aaron. God, I love you so much. I'll never leave you, never threaten to go. Please, please let me come!"

"Those are the magic words, baby," he growls in satisfaction, eyes flashing with triumph and dark desire. "Come for me then. Now." With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, grinding against your cervix as his fingers attack your clit.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. He follows you over the edge moments later, flooding your spasming pussy with his hot seed, marking you as his inside and out.

Collapsing against the sheets, utterly spent and satisfied, "Wow, I think that was your best work yet. I need time to recover." you say, panting between words.

He chuckles lowly, nuzzling into your neck as he pulls you close, still buried deep inside you. "Mmm, I aim to please, sweetheart.”

He presses soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, finally capturing your lips in a tender, loving kiss unlike any before. He unties your hands gently.

When he pulls back, his eyes are warm with genuine affection. "I meant what I said, you know. About not seeing other women anymore. I can't believe you thought I was just gonna let you walk away."

Aaron’s forehead rests against yours, his breath unsteady, his grip unrelenting—like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. His hands tremble slightly where they hold you, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to memorize the shape of you.

He leans in, his voice a hushed whisper against your lips. “Go to sleep, baby.”

And just like that, the fight is over.

Because you were never going anywhere.

[bombshellsandbluebells]

(didn't even get to the part where Ford comes in, but I loved the idea of a sentient Mystery Shack that grows to love Stan - mostly because Stan ends up treating the place more like a home than Ford ever did and goes through all those years alone with him and wrote a drabble)

At some point, Stan realizes he should clean the house. The epiphany comes around the same time he realizes he should also take care of himself—eat, probably, since he can't recall when he last did that. Shower now that he has access to one—even though the thought of using Ford's shower because the man himself can't makes his skin crawl so much he wants to peel it off.

He'll start with the house, then. It feels less like stealing a space that shouldn't be his if he convinces himself it's for Ford's sake—tidying the books and washing out the mugs growing their own ecosystems as some kind of apology. 

As soon as he starts cleaning, though, the mess seems endless. He wonders again at the state his brother had been in—at the barbed wire and panic, at the blood stains in the bathroom—and he wonders if the fear had come from Ford knowing what was beyond the portal, if he'd known the nightmare Stan was dooming him to, if he was even still—

He loses a few hours cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing everything from the floors to the inside of the fridge, but that's a few hours not spent tearing his hair out over the portal, and it feels nice to succeed at something for once. Even the house seems to breathe a little easier in the space he clears—though he can't really explain what he means by that. 

It's just a building, obviously, but it seems…happier. Like it's proud of the changes he made. Whatever, grief is weird, he knows that—their Ma had hit denial so badly after their Bubbe passed it took a full two months for her to even admit she'd died. If he feels better because he tells himself Ford's house is happy he cleaned it up, who cares.

 At least it will help him get out of bed tomorrow. 

-------

About two months in, Stan realizes there are probably bills of some sort he's ignoring. He's never owned a place of his own, but he remembers the whole song and dance with his parents, pouring over electricity and water bills at the kitchen table and debating which ones would be easier to argue—arguing with each other about who had dropped the ball on making enough sales that month.

Considering his new business is based out of the house, he can't risk losing power, which leaves him hunting around Ford's stuff for old utility bills—with no luck. His brother is probably the least organized person he knows, and it looks like that hasn't changed much. Somehow the man can keep up a meticulous system for his bookcase that doesn't make sense to anyone else but can't keep important documents in a folder somewhere. Hell, Stan would take a messy drawer.

He practically tears the house apart but can't find anything, getting increasingly pissed with every upturned cabinet—pissed at Ford for not taking better care of his house, pissed that he's not even here to deal with this, pissed that Stan's now actively seeking out bills to pay like some kind of lunatic. By the time he finally finds a number for Gravity Falls' one electricity company in the yellow pages, he's mad enough to curse out the employee on the other end when he informs him they have no record of an account for Stanford Pines.

"Then how the hell do I have power?!" he yells before realizing it's probably in his best interest to not reveal the fact that Ford has somehow slipped through the cracks and ended up with free power this whole time.

When the guy tries to talk Stan into setting up a new account, he quickly hangs up. 

So it's a mistake, probably—one actually working out in Stan's favor. Or Ford set up a generator somewhere he's yet to find. Either way, he just has to hope whatever's keeping the lights on doesn't decide to crap out on him soon; he could use the extra money he'd waste on bills right now. The Hut isn't that successful.

"Please," he says weakly, not quite sure who or what he's talking to. The concept of electricity itself, maybe. "Just—don't go out."

Maybe it's just his imagination, but the light above him seems to burn a little brighter in response.

Whatever. Grief works in weird ways.

–

It becomes harder to shake it off as just grief. 

Sometimes when the endless slog of the portal is getting to him, the lights burn brighter. Despite never paying a gas bill of any kind, the house stays warm around him. He never seems to lose anything, either—no matter how many times he misplaces something, it turns up right when he needs it. Sometimes it's not even something he's looking for: painkillers on the kitchen table after he smashes his fingers, Around the World in Eighty Days sitting innocently on his bed just when he starts thinking he needs to take his mind off of things for a bit. Once, he mentions missing the ocean out loud and turns the corner to see a painting of just that where he knows it wasn't before.

Terrifyingly, the first thing he thinks of are ghosts. Maybe Ford hadn't even made it to whatever lay on the other side of that portal. Maybe he'd just stuck around where Stan couldn't see him anymore.

He dares to ask one night, sitting in the kitchen where he'd first felt the feeling of not being alone, almost too scared to get an answer. The room ripples around him in reply. The light above him flickers. Stan watches it, trying to swallow down the sudden dryness in his mouth.

"Blink once for yes, twice for no," he says.

No, the house flickers.

He drops his head into his arms and just breathes. Squeezes his eyes shut so they stop feeling so wet. "Okay," he says. "Not the weirdest thing I've seen, I guess."

The way the light flares feels almost like a laugh.

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling. 

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up. 

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that. 

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb in. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

[machetelettuce]

One of the most interesting things to me is how, even after indoctrination, Narinder's name doesn't change from "The One Who Waits" it's there by default. YOU have to change it to Narinder. But even then, it's not really his name anymore.

I think the horror of being trapped in one place, in one area, for literally HUNDREDS of years, is unexplored in this fandom. Even though Narinder is a god, it's heavily implied he was bored with his task. He felt stifled by being the god of Death. Constant, Unmoving-- A binary. He was not in the flux his siblings were. And at the end of the day that feeling-- feeling stuck, is what led him to act. Also funny thing here; Feeling trapped in his domain is what led him to being literally trapped in his domain. LMFAO.

But the point of explaining that is to point out how he DID feel trapped and it was irritating him in some way. Great, now what happens when you trap someone who is irritated with their purpose in a room with nothing and nobody (spare 2 people) for a thousand years. Oh and also he just got betrayed by his siblings, one of whom is punishing him for doing what THEY introduced to him. Speaking of Shamura and Aym and Baal actually-- Fun fact, Solitary confinement is still Solitary confinement even if you have three people in a room together. It's still torture!

ANYWAYS all of this is to say Narinder losing his name is indicative of an identity change. Which makes complete sense, being trapped in one room with nothing to do but state and idfk guide souls to their destination (a task he was already fed up with) would drive someone actually insane. It's. Horrifying to think about. His name is completely erased from all records and history, he's given the title 'The One Who Waits' in response to a prophecy, thousands of innocent sheep are slaughtered to stop the prophecy from commencing, etc. Of course he's not going to be 'Narinder' anymore, the Bishop Narinder is long dead. He's replaced that with so much rage and anger and misery. The One Who Waits is the only part of him that remains.

Its so miserable and sad and it makes me SICK actually. Especially in relation to the other bishops. I like to think that even after they've 'made up' in some sense of the word, that their dynamic is completely changed. They're all wildly different people due to everything, yes, but Narinder-- The One Who Waits, is unrecognizable. I love playing with my toys i hope if you read this it makes you as ill as it makes me

[capseycartwright]

everything that's heavy, i check it at the door (wouldn't want to do it with anyone else)

Eddie had always found Texas to be suffocating, but in the years since he’d left the state, he’d put that down to the stifling heat – surely, he was remembering the way the soaring temperatures of the summer felt, the oppressive heat and humidity of a Texas July affecting the way he remembered life in his home state to be.

It was February now, though, and Eddie still felt like he couldn’t breathe – so it wasn’t the heat, was it?

eddie goes to texas. he fights for christopher, fights with his parents, and loves buck from afar - mostly in that order.

ao3 link

an offering of my own for friends to fiances february.

Eddie had always found Texas to be suffocating, but in the years since he’d left the state, he’d put that down to the stifling heat – surely, he was remembering the way the soaring temperatures of the summer felt, the oppressive heat and humidity of a Texas July affecting the way he remembered life in his home state to be.

It was February now, though, and Eddie still felt like he couldn’t breathe – so it wasn’t the heat, was it?

Deep down, he’d always known that: the heat had long-since been a convenient excuse for his dislike of Texas, a reason to not return. California had better summers, he’d always said – warm, and dry, and close to the beach, unlike El Paso. It was a convenient excuse he could have kept using for the rest of his life, if not for the fact he found himself back in El Paso again, and not for a few days this time – no, this was a longer-term situation.

Eddie hoped it wasn’t too long-term. He had decided against selling his house in LA, in the end, Buck moving in to help him cover the mortgage, but that meant he was stuck in a month-to-month rental in El Paso, his son still living with Eddie’s parents, and everything just felt –

Suffocating. 

“This feels like old times.”

Eddie blinked up at the shadow that was obscuring his view of the late-evening sun. His sister, Sophia, was standing, hands on hips, her dark hair flowing in the evening breeze as she fixed him with a serious look. “I figured I might as well commit to regressing,” he huffed, not moving from where he was lying on the grass. “I’m already back in El Paso – mom and dad are controlling my life. Hiding in the garden because I don’t want to talk to our parents felt like the natural next move.”

Sophia barely concealed an eye roll at his self-depreciating comment but eased herself onto the grass next to him all the same – impressive, given she was nearly six months pregnant. Eddie would hear it about her back, later, but he didn’t quite have it in him to protest, in that moment. 

“I thought that dinner went surprisingly well,” she said, a serious expression on her face as she looked at Eddie.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Sophia cracked, a cackle escaping her mouth as she shook her head. “No, it was bad,” she agreed. “It feels like we’re teenagers again – you’re seventeen, I’m nineteen, and neither of us can do anything right.” 

Eddie grinned. That had been the best part of growing up, sometimes – Sophia was barely a year older than him, and as much as Eddie had borne the brunt of expectation, being the old boy in the family, Sophia had dealt with her fair share of their mother’s expectations too, Helena Diaz having the perfect vision for her daughters lives, one that Sophia had never adhered to. 

Sophia had left for Oregon when she was eighteen, for college, and came back with a degree in interior design, an East coast husband with a terrible beard, a career of her own, and no plans for children – well, until now. Late, by their mother’s standards, the opposite to Eddie, who’d given her a grandchild years too soon. 

“When you have a baby girl you name after mom, you’ll be in her good books,” Eddie hummed, knowing he earned the punch he got from his older sister. That was sort of his job, really, to wind Sophia up - it was in the younger brother contract. 

“Yeah, that’s going to happen when hell freezes over,” Sophia rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to them, Eddie. I know that they like to peck, and push, and they think their way is the only way, the right way – but it’s not. You’re a damn good parent, regardless of what they believe – you’ve been doing this alone for so long, and I know I’m not exactly a parent yet, but I can’t imagine doing it alone. They should be proud of you, for how you’ve managed - not judgemental.” 

Eddie was quiet, for a second. It was true, that for a few years, he had done it alone – but he hadn’t been alone for a long time now. Buck had been the kind of coparent he never thought he deserved, attentive and present, willing to pitch in for the good, and the bad. It had started with Buck being a fun uncle, sure, but his role in Christopher’s life was so much bigger, so much more, now – he was a co parent to Eddie. 

Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to express quite how grateful he was to Buck for that. 

read the rest on ao3

[mooosicaldreamz]

follow the signs (supercorp)

this is for @ekingston's crazy prompt-a-whirl thingy. i got fluff + fake dating + forced to share a cab + fortune cookie which was very lucky in my opinion. and they all start with f! wow. anyway here it is, sitting at EXACTLY 1K. here's the thingy if you want to do it too.

Kara is waiting for a cab. It is midnight in Jacksonville, Florida. She’s here for a wedding she’d planned to avoid, but then Mon-El had called her and Kara had lied out her butt and said yes, me and my girlfriend will be there. And it hadn’t even been grammatically correct, let alone true.

Kara didn’t have a girlfriend. She had a career and hopes for a puppy. She and Mon-El had broken up a year ago and that’d been her last romance.

Lena had been a random choice for her fake girlfriend, the only person Kara could think of who she was close enough to ask to participate in this harebrained scheme, but also someone who had never met Mon-El. She and Lena had met at a press conference when Kara had cornered Lena in a hallway and been tased by Lena’s security guards.

Lena had been less than pleased with their actions and had offered Kara a one-on-one interview, and it’d been off to the races from there. It was nice to have a new, different kind of friend - Lena was rich, too smart for her own good, and indulged Kara more than others might advise. Case in point: they are sitting on a bench outside Jacksonville International at midnight.

“I’m starving,” Kara laments, digging through her bag in the hopes that she’ll unearth something.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call a chauffeur?” Lena asks.

“No, the cab should be here soon,” Kara sighs. “I’m sorry for this mess, Lena. I know this probably isn’t how you like to travel.”

“I don’t mind,” Lena shrugs. “Flights get delayed whether they’re private or not, and it’s not as though commercial domestic first class is terrible. I think you’re overestimating my need for fancy things.”

“Tell that to your Balenciaga sweatshirt,” Kara says. Lena smacks at her lazily. She’s so pretty, is the thing. Kara could have gone out and got a real girlfriend, or asked someone Mon-El hadn’t known well, but when she’d settled down a few weeks ago and convinced herself to go through with her nonsensical lie, Lena had been the only option in her mind. She’d been the only option she even wanted to consider.

“Is that them?” Lena asks, nodding as a bright orange cab pulls up. Kara jumps up excitedly - and then stalls as the driver climbs out of the car and comes sprinting around the hood directly at her.

“Kara!” Mon-El yells.

“Frick,” Kara mutters as he pulls her into a hug. She looks over at Lena with wide eyes and makes sure to enunciate: “Mon-El, it’s so good to see you!”

She watches as Lena raises one eyebrow and then sighs loudly with an incredible amount of boredom. It distracts Mon-El enough that Kara can withdraw from his cloying hug. He’s sweating. It’s gross.

“Hi, you must be Kara’s girlfriend!” he says enthusiastically. Lena shuffles closer to Kara’s side until she can grip Kara’s whole elbow in her fingers in a vaguely possessive way. 

“Yes, this is Lena,” Kara says, nearly swallowing her tongue. She and Lena are not really touchy, which is not how Kara would prefer it, but Lena is sometimes shy and unsure and one time Kara had hugged her in greeting and Lena had almost cried, so Kara’s been taking it slow. This is the fourth time they’ve touched with this amount of intention today alone. It’s a new record. Maybe Jacksonville wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mon-El,” he grins, looking happy. “Just making a little extra cash before the big day this Sunday. Did you guys just get in?”

“Yeah,” Kara says, grabbing Lena’s suitcase as well as her own and starting to wheel them over to the curb. Mon-El had always hated when she did things that were, per his understanding of the world, things the guy does, which she had on rare occasions found sweet.

It doesn’t matter now, because Kara is swiftly and decisively entering Lena Luthor girlfriend mode. And that includes putting the suitcases in the back of the cab, despite the fact that Lena’s is tagged overweight and nearly breaks her wrist.

When she turns back after shutting the trunk, Lena is smiling at her, and Kara is pretty sure that Jacksonville might really be alright. She takes Lena Luthor girlfriend mode a step further, opening the passenger side door for Lena and waiting gallantly for her to slide in before closing it. 

Mon-El looks giddy when they meet face-to-face at the driver’s side. He points subtly down at the cab and goes, “Dude. Hell yeah.” And then he raises up his hand for a high-five.

When Mon-El hadn’t been the most infuriating boyfriend possible, Kara had liked him. This was one of the reasons why. She smacks her palm into his and then slides into the car, smiling probably dopily over at Lena, who smiles back before digging into her leather tote purse thing and extends, out of nowhere, a fortune cookie.

“I think this is from when we got Chinese last week,” Lena says, shrugging. “If you’re still hungry.”

“I am so hungry, you are the best,” Kara gasps. Lena laughs at her as she pulls the package open and the cab pulls away from the curb. When she cracks it in half, she shoves half of it in her mouth and unfurls the paper. She laughs at what she reads. “It is time you ask that special someone on a date.”

She watches as Lena’s cheeks go a little pink in the lights beginning to whiz by. She’s pretty.

“Oh, Mr. Fortune Cookie, Kara’s already there,” Mon-El says. Lena laughs quietly. Kara reaches out to grasp her hand where it’s clutched in the supple leather of her bag, initiating their fifth consequential touch of the day. Lena looks at her for a long second before she moves to lace their fingers together. 

Jacksonville is gonna be so good. She can feel it.

[sucker-just]

I really get Desperately Wanting A Vitamin. Right now I'm trialling light therapy glasses (just blast the shit out of your eyes in the money and bam you're doing more stuff) and retrying vitamin D (had a test come back literally undetectable levels and my feet have started hurting again). I'm going to try THC this year too maybe, it might help with some stuff if used judiciously.

I always feel like I'm a failure positing that there could be Another Vitamin, like I'm some soulless husk of a wellness junkie for saying hey, maybe taking up running again would be nice. Maybe a sleep study. Maybe I need iron tablets again. Add in the fish oil and the b vitamin and some magnesium. Maybe try another antidepressant or get a more structured food plan. Fantasize about hey, maybe if I got a formal diagnosis on some stuff I could try better treatments for that. Maybe I should try psilocybin or something just to see if it helps. Maybe I need to do my floor practise (getting up from the floor no hands style) or lift weights or pat my cat more or do any particular thing to improve things.

As if it's an admission of failure to want things to be better, like if I was strong enough to be better by this point I would be and it's pure wishful thinking to want to have been broken in some easily fixable way this entire time, a way to abdicate responsibility for the pain of admitting that failure. I think it's from years of mental health problems being equated by people with authority over my life as simultaneously with "attitude", something that is supposed as entirely within my control, and being fundamentally irredeemable as a person, which is not, in a pattern of shifting rhetoric that places the fault on whatever is most convenient for the placer. That and a fear of being in any way like those dead eyed people who run to sun their testes or fast for days on end drinking nothing but salted water or take ozone enemas to run away from some glaring internal crisis, oftentimes interpersonal sometimes their own mortality or such, and never really seem "okay". They always seem deeply hurt or deeply hurt covered with a manic glee at how great the new thing they have found is, how much it will or is going to fix, until it doesn't again. You see a lot of those guys on the internet. I get stuck in a dual dilemma of, you just need to have the right attitude to get better a choice you are making actively but unknowingly constantly and forever but could totally stop any time so you don't need to do something to make it better but also you'll never really change and how stupid you look here with your dumb glasses that blast your eyes and new migraine meds and vitamins and hopes for maybe more energy.

I think sometimes it gets so mortifying to even think, like imagining how you would save all your friends in a fire or cow those who've hurt you, a juvenile fantasy best suited for some romantic fantasy manhwa. But like, this one is worth betting on a little maybe. Better living is possible maybe and hey if it doesn't work at least you get to tell people how much keto really sucks (so so so bad) and that blasting your eyes has been tried already. I'd be living worse if I hadn't learned to brush my teeth or gotten an IUD (one of the most premium Vitamins for me), maybe there's more. Maybe there's more for most people.

My deepest darkest fantasy is that I collapse on the street and I am rushed to the hospital. They perform a bunch of tests and find out I am severely deficient in some kind of vitamin. Then I start taking the vitamin and I become the happiest cleverest person alive because all my problems were caused by this one deficiency

[screwpinecaprice]

Oh oof I slipped and hit them with dark and serious beam. 😣

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 14

Summary: The universe (and some people) conspire to reunite you with Wanda.

“Y/N” Wanda says, and your heart beats faster.

“Hey. Hi. How…”

How are you? is such an idiotic question to ask. You clear your throat, running your fingers through your hair.

“What’s up?”

Ok, that’s worse.

“Sorry for bothering you, I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking clearly. Tommy ran away…”

“Wait, he what? Hold on, I’ll call you when I’m at the airport”

“No, no” Wanda pleads, regretting her choice of words. “He’s safe. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”

“Ok. Maybe lead with that next time?” you sigh, collapsing in the sofa.

Wanda laughs and it makes your heart swoon. And ache.

“You’re right, I’m so sorry. Like I said… I wondered if he might have been in touch with you or something and that’s why I called. But he’s safe now”

“I haven’t spoken to them since I left” you say in a small voice, and Wanda falls silent for a moment.

“They ask about you all the time”

“I think about them all the time”

And about you.

“Anyways. Sorry for scaring you and interrutpting”

“Just watching a movie” you say, knowing she’s referring to Natasha. Though you don’t owe her an explanation.

You both stay silent and you have to hold back tears.

“Uh, sorry about leaving my stuff. I could get someone to pick them up. I’m not going back to Westview until Carol’s wedding in April” you say.

“No, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it, leave them here and just come over when you’re in town” Wanda says, disappointed to hear that you don’t have any immediate plans to come back to Westview.

“Ok, thanks. I should…”

“I follow Jenny on instagram” Wanda says, clearly ignoring your attempt to end the conversation.

“Really?” you play dumb. “You know I don’t have social media, so we just text”

“She posted a picture of you. And your brother I assume?”

“Zach, yeah. She’s applying to NYU, so we had a weekend there. The usual, Broadway, baseball. It was fun”

“It looked like fun, yeah” Wanda nods, remembering how much joy it brought her to see you again.

You looked fine. A little tired, but the smile was there, maybe because your sister was hugging you close while your brother made a face.

Of course they’d love you, even if you hadn’t been in contact for years. You are amazing.

And Wanda fucked it up. She stares at the ring, still thinking about whether or not to tell you she found it.

“Y/N…”

There’s the distinct sound of a pager and you sigh.

“Great. I’m sorry, I have to go”

“I understand” Wanda says. “You take care of yourself now, ok?”

“Bye, Wanda”

You hang up, because you can’t stand the idea of saying goodbye to her. Is this really how it ends? A stupid phone conversation and you taking back boxes of clothes in a few months.

You wish you could call her back and tell her this is bullshit, she was an ass and so were you, but you can work through it.

But you don’t, because you’re scared of what she has to say.

So you leave for work, thinking about her voice, her laugh, her lips on your skin.

And how the memories are all that’s left of your life together.

—

Wanda stares at the phone. Just when she had gathered the courage to tell you about the ring, you hung up.

Maybe it was for the best.

What would you even say? That you planned on proposing and then Wanda ruined everything? Hurt you, destroyed your relationship beyond repair.

Knowing about the ring didn’t change things, not on your side.

Wanda sat on the porch, holding on to the ring box. She opens it again, amazed at how beautiful and perfect it is. It was obvious you had put so much thought into picking the right ring.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha calls for him, around the corner. “Why didn’t Rio give me a freakin fish instead? Hey, Wanda”

“Hi, Agatha. Your bunny again?”

“Yeah, he likes to escape. Heard you have one of those as well” she smiles, referring to Tommy.

“How did you…?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard” the woman keeps chatting as she looks around, hoping to spot the animal. “Your mom and I are besties. I was just with Mrs. Davies”

Of course.

“I think he’s right here” Wanda thinks she spots the bunny, moving forward. She tries to catch him with both hands, but ends up dropping the box, revealing the ring.

“Damn, that’s nice” Agatha whistles, picking it up and examining it. “Family heirloom?”

“No, not exactly” Wanda shakes her head, picking up the bunny and hugging him close to her chest.

Agatha sits next to her, still looking at the ring.

“So, she was proposing. Come on, it doesn’t take a genius to know” she says when Wanda gives her a look.

“God, I screwed up so bad” Wanda shakes her head. “She left for good and I won’t ever be able to fix this”

“Did she really?”

“What?”

“Leave? For good. Don’t you have all her clothes here? If she was done, she would have taken them out, changed her number, thrown the ring into the river” Agatha argues, placing the box down.

“I hurt her too much. She’ll never forgive me”

“Are we talking about the same Y/N? The one that brought medicine to that old lady down the street even if she was a homophobic demon?”

“Agatha, don’t speak ill of the dead” Wanda says, though Mrs. Miller was the worst person she ever met.

“Well, she’s in a warmer place now. But anyway! That’s not the point. You can stay here and cry all day or you can at least try. You’re assuming the worst and that’s what led you here, isn’t it?”

“Well…”

“Get your sorry ass from the floor and do something about it, Maximoff! Get the girl back” Agatha says, shaking Wanda by the shoulders.

“Ok, ok! I’ll think of something”

“Good girl. Now hand me back my bunny. We’re past our bedtime”

—

Darcy’s walking down the hallway when she gets a text from you.

Y/N: Out on a sidequest, call you later. Love ya

“Who does she think she is, deciding when I get to scold her?” she complains. The brunette is so busy typing out a response that she misses the man that almost crashes into her.

“So sorry. I’m looking for Chief Fury”

“Job interview?” she says, arching her eyebrow.

“Yes, for Head of Trauma”

“Right. Well, I’m sorry that no one told you before, but that position’s been taken. Better luck next time…” she dismisses the man, the way she’s been tricking the few people who have been meeting the chief.

Darcy’s always looking for a way to sabotage the interviews, either by lying and saying the position’s closed or by feeding them false information. Like Fury likes to be greeted with two kisses, one on each cheek.

That was a fun day.

The man walks away, and she’s about to reply to you when someone calls her from the corner.

“Psss”

Darcy looks around, her eyes meeting Rio’s. This is gonna be interesting.

“What’s up, girl?”

“I know someone who is looking to form an alliance… to bring Y/N back” she whispers, and then smiles like a psycho. “She wants to speak to you”

“If it’s Wanda…”

“Nope. Do you agree to a meeting? I’ll set it up”

Darcy thinks about it for a second, considering if it’s worth it. She should at least get to know her potential ally.

“Fine. But I’m not meeting them in a dark alley”

“I’ll arrange it”

Darcy is about to change her mind when Chief Fury calls for her. In the split second it takes her to look back at her boss, Rio has completely vanished.

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen a doctor that was coming for an interview?”

“No, and boy, look at the time, it’s appy hour at Stark Hospital!” she glances at her wrist watch. “See ya around, boss!”

“You can’t keep sending them home, Lewis! We need a new Head of Trauma” Fury says.

“Totally, good luck with that!”

—

“Ready?”

“No” you say, refusing to leave the dressing room. You see Darcy typing but then her text is never sent. She’s probably working.

Which is what you’d rather be doing instead of trying on dresses.

“Come out now” Natasha commands, and her tone leaves little room for argument.

“Fine”

You stumble awkwardly out of the changing room, not used to wearing dresses.

“I look stupid” you complain, and Natasha supresses a laugh. “I’m not going!”

That makes her jump.

“You look fine!”

“It’s not my style. And why are you picking out dresses for me?”

“Because I already have mine, and I know what will match” Natasha explains, handing you another one. “Try this one”

Before you can protest, Yelena jumps out, admiring herself on the mirror.

“My boobs look great in this!”

“Yeah, they do” you nod, which earns you a slap on the arm by Natasha. “Hey, I’m just being supportive. Unlike that bra she’s wearing”

“I’m not wearing a bra. I think it will look better that way” she comments.

“No, you just want to piss off mother” Natasha says, leaning against the wall. She waits until you step out to help pull your zipper up. “See? You clean up nice”

“I still don’t like it” you mutter. “I’m a pants kinda gal through and through”

Yelena has settled on her dress, which makes you feel pressured to pick something. So you just let Natasha decide and walk with her to the register.

“I’m paying for it”

“Nu-uh”

“You’re going as a favor to me”

“It’s an open bar, you will regret inviting me”

You try to reach for her hand and drop her credit card, but she’s faster. And infuriating. The struggle makes you lose your footing, dropping to the floor.

“You’re both idiots” Yelena steps over you to pay for her clothes.

As Natasha helps you up, you look at a shop across the street.

“Wow, those are pretty cool”

“Huh…” Natasha looks you up and down, evaluating the possibilities. “Leave that dress. We’re finding something else”

—

Wanda’s looking at her phone again. Ekaterina and Pietro share a look, knowing something’s up.

Everyone’s home today, even if it’s a school day. Considering everything that happened yesterday, Wanda thought it might be a good idea to let the kids stay, watch movies and have some family time.

Though she still has to go to a meeting with Laura. The book is getting published soon and there are events they have to plan, like readings at bookshops or libraries.

It was Wanda’s favorite part about releasing a new book. And the worst thing is she was looking forward to having you by her side, to share all the things that happen while doing it.

“Gotta go meet Laura. I won’t be long” she announces, and is pleasantly surprised when the twins rush to hug her goodbye. “Let’s all go out for dinner, what do you guys think?”

“Yeah, sounds fun” Tommy says, going back to the couch where he’s playing videogames with Pietro.

Before starting her drive, she breathes deeply and decides to just pull the plug. So, she sents you a message and hopes you’ll answer.

Wanda has to remind herself that you’re probably busy and that’s why there’s no reply when she parks outside of her friend’s office.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Laura goes straight to hug her. “I’m happy Tommy’s ok”

“Yeah, we’re all good. Just hoping things get better soon”

“Of course. Honestly, we don’t have to talk about the promo tour today, you should go home and spend time with them, Wanda”

“No, that’s fine. I could use the distraction” she nods, pulling out her laptop.

For the next hour, they go over the calendar, deciding which events will take priority. It’s a month and a half away, but Wanda knows time flies when you have to meet a deadline.

“There’s one last thing” Laura says, trying to sound normal. “And listen, just give it some thought, ok?”

“What is it?”

“You know Wendy Lawson, right?”

“The legendary author? Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”

“She’s working on a new book, and she asked specifically about you to illustrate it” Laura says, with a very distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“Ok, that’s amazing! That’s every artist’s dream. Why are you making it sound like a bad thing?” Wanda says, confused.

“Well, here’s the thing. She doesn’t want to just do everything over video calls or anything else. Wendy is asking for you to go back and forth to review designs in person. And it’s right before the tour, so… it’s gonna be a hassle”

Wanda realises a second later that Wendy Lawson is currently living in Boston.

“I’ll do it” she says, her mind racing with ideas.

She could go and look for you, try to talk face to face. Fix everything, or at the very least try.

This seems like more than a coincidence.

It’s meant to be.

“Really? What about the kids?”

“Well, it doesn’t look like my mother is planning on leaving anytime soon. And seeing as this is a once in a lifetime opportunity…”

“Yeah, it is. Alright, then let’s set up a meeting with her team. I do think you have to speak with her editor first, but they’ll be happy to fly you to Boston” Laura says, shocked that it took no effort to convince Wanda. This really was a great opportunity, but all things considered, she was expecting a very firm no on her friend’s side.

“Great” Wanda says, putting her things away. “It’s settled then”

She feels very optimistic once she gets in the car.

It’s even better when you finally reply to her text.

The music’s loud as she drives home, but for the first time it isn’t to keep her from thinking about you. It’s just because she’s happy.

—

Darcy’s not sure this is a good idea.

She’s sitting at the diner like Rio told her, with her back to the door.

“Whatever you do, don’t look at the people coming in. They want to remain in the shadows” Rio had said with a somber expression.

Maybe it was all a prank.

But still, she hears the door open and close, and then someone is sitting on the booth behind her, and she’s back to back with her mysterious ally.

“Doctor Darcy Lewis?” a woman says.

“Yes” Darcy frowns. “Who am I speaking to?”

“That is not important, Doctor Lewis. What’s important is that we share a common goal”

“Bring Y/N back”

“With Wanda” the mystery woman adds.

“Now wait a minute!” Darcy snaps, ignoring the warning of not looking at the woman. “Nu-uh. I don’t give a damn if she gets back with Wanda. In fact, I don’t think she deserves her, not after all the shitty things she said to my friend”

“Love is complicated, Doctor”

“Is it now, Mrs. Maximoff?” Darcy glares.

The woman sighs, moving to Darcy’s booth and sitting in front of her.

“How did you know?”

“Gut feeling. Plus you have the same eyes” the brunette crosses her arms, ready to continue arguing. “Like I said, I want my friend back because this is where she belongs. Whatever the deal is between her and Wanda is none of my concern. Especially because she’s the reason Y/N left in the first place”

“And you don’t think they can fix it?” the woman asks. It sounds like she really wants to know, considering Darcy is your best friend and knows you better than anyone.

And truth is, you were really happy with Wanda. It felt like you had found a place in the world, with a family that loved you.

“Maybe. I know Y/N still loves Wanda. That’s why she ran away. She was probably scared to ask Wanda to work it out and have her slam the door in her face”

“Yes, well, my daughter isn’t particularly good at dealing with rejection either” Ekaterina sighs.

“Fine. If it means I get my best friend back I can work with you. But I won’t put in a good word for Wanda unless I’m convinced she’ll do better”

“That’s fair”

“So, let’s get some food. Seems like we have a lot of planning to do” Darcy says, smiling at the other woman.

—

It’s all moving surprisingly fast. As in, Wanda already has a flight booked for Friday, returning early Saturday.

Her mother takes the news surprisingly well.

“Mama, if it’s too much work I’m sure I can get a babysitter…”

“A stranger to look after my boys!” Ekaterina sighs, exasperated. “I’m not that old, malyshka. I can handle it for two days”

“Alright, if you’re sure…”

“Yes. Now I have to take my daily walk. Come, little dog” she calls for Sparky, who is eager to get out of the house.

There’s a reason behind it, though. She needs to call her secret ally and update her on the news.

“Darcy here” the brunette greets. “I know you’re calling to scold me, but I haven’t been able to convince her to come back for Carol’s fake bridal shower”

“That won’t be necessary. Wanda’s going to Boston”

“Damn, you’re good. How did you get her to do it?” Darcy says.

“Oh, the universe works in mysterious ways. It’s actually something about work but it might be a good chance for them to meet. Can you find out what Y/N is doing this week? I’ll try to convince Wanda to meet her”

“Wait, when did you say she was going to Boston?”

“Oh… you heard already” Kate Bishop comes out of nowhere. “I-I’m sorry, I meant to tell you sooner, and it’s only going to be a week, I promise I’ll come back”

“Bishop, what are you babbling about?” Darcy interrupts, frowning. She’s definitely not as patient as you were with the resident.

“I thought you knew about me going to Boston for a few days. Just to observe the kidney transplant. Yelena invited me”

“Ok, hold on. Ekaterina, we have someone on the inside”

“Inside of what? You Americans and your vulgar…”

“Gotta call you back” Darcy hangs up, pulling Kate along. “Ok, tell me everything you’re supposed to do. If you want Y/N back to teaching you, you have to agree to be our doble agent”

“Our?”

“That’s not important” Darcy dismisses her question. “Now speak”

—

Wanda: Do you have a moment to chat?

Y/N: Hey, I’m going to join a surgery. Can call in a few hours.

Y/N: Everything ok?

Wanda has been texting you here and there to ask about small stuff. It’s always something related to things you were in charge of, like Sparky’s vet appointments or her car’s maintenance.

If it makes her life easier, you’re more than happy to help. It’s the least you could do.

Except today. She texted early and you honestly didn’t check your phone. Now calls aren’t coming through either.

“Hey, Kate” you greet at the front desk, still looking at your phone. “Checked my post ops yet? There’s this guy in room 1045 that I need to…”

Wait a damn minute.

You finally look up.

“Hi” your former resident greets with a smile and you finally snap out of it.

This is Boston. Kate doesn’t work here.

“What are you… is Darcy here?” you look around, knowing your friend is capable of kidnapping you if that’s what it takes.

“No, I’m here because Yelena invited me to see the kidney transplant” she rushes to explain. “Also, hi Doctor Y/L/N. It’s good to see you”

“Call me Y/L, I’m not your superior anymore. And yeah, right back at you” you smile at her. You’re about to say goodbye as you have some patients to check still but she speaks again.

“We all miss you. Barnes and Doctor Lewis fight all the time”

“That sounds about right. I miss everyone too” you admit with a sad smile. “Anyway, gotta check on post ops. See you there”

It’s a little freaky, to see Kate in the midde of a hospital that is not Stark. Like you’re having deja vu or something. It almost feels like you’ll run into Darcy next, or get a surprise visit from Wanda to drop off some cookies.

Stop it.

You need to focus. All eyes are on the hospital for the next few days as they’ll perform the second xenotransplant. It’s amazing, really. A genetically-edited pig kidney into a living recipient.

And although you’re not in the surgical team, you are allowed in the OR to observe and help.

“You’ll never believe who I ran into” you say when you spot Natasha. “Kate. She said Yelena invited her”

“Huh. Do you think that she’s also her date to the gala?” Natasha frowns. In that precise moment, Yelena walks by, making you both turn to look at her. Without saying anything, you run after her, Natasha close behind.

You manage to catch up, blocking her path and making sure Natasha doesn’t let her escape either.

“I don’t have time to play games”

“Is it because you’re little girlfriend is already here?” you mock.

“What?”

“Kate Bishop” Natasha clarifies.

“That is not… you don’t even know what… сука! Both of you” Yelena blushes. Natasha and you laugh at her expression, and she uses the distraction to walk around you. She makes sure you get to see her flipping you off before disappearing around the corner.

“Are you ready?” Natasha asks, turning her attention towards you.

“Yeah. I’m just observing, never been to one”

“I meant the gala”

“Oh, that. I’ve never been to one of those either”

“Just eat, drink, laugh” Natasha eases your nerves. “Mother is the only one giving a speech. She wants to let everyone know we’re doing another transplant”

“Wait, but why would she schedule the surgery after the gala? Is it because post op is a lot of work?”

“You know the rejection risk is higher with genetically altered organs” Natasha explains. “If the gala happens before the surgery, she can just mention we are doing it. Now, if it goes wrong, it won’t be part of the speech”

“Oh, ok”

“It’s all politics” she says, understanding you’re career has never been about that.

“Well, I’ll see you in the penthouse? Don’t know if the lovebirds are riding with us”

“Seven thirty” Natasha nods, leaving to check on some patients.

The sound of your phone makes you turn back, but it’s not Wanda.

“Hey, Darcy. Guess who’s in Boston?”

“Hey, pal. Oh, do tell” the brunette asks, curious if Ekaterina convinced Wanda to let you know about her travel plans.

“Kate. Yelena invited her to this gala the Romanoffs are planning. It was so crazy running into her in the front desk. For a moment I thought I went back in time”

“Oh. Yeah, Kate” Darcy sounds disappointed, which is weird. “She took some days off but I had no idea that was her plan” she lies.

“Well, I’m sure she didn’t want anyone to think I was convincing her to leave Stark Hospital”

“So, a gala!” Darcy changes the subject. “Sounds fun. Are you going?”

“Yeah. There’s an open bar”

“And are you bringing a date?”

“Well, I am the date. I’m Natasha’s plus one” you explain, and there’s an awkward pause on the other side of the line. “Uh, Darcy?”

Damn it, damn it.

Darcy already knew about the gala. It was so easy to make Kate crack under the slightest pressure.

But her plan was to make Wanda reach out today and you’d ask her to be your date. You being Natasha’s date is not gonna work out.

“Yeah, I just… so what are you doing the day after the gala?”

“Kidney transplant. I mean, not doing it. But just watching and assisting for a bit”

For fuck’s sake, would you even have a spare moment to meet Wanda?

This might be the only chance she’d get, considering it wouldn’t be certain she’d be getting the job.

“Ok, well. Have fun doing everything. Sounds like you’re booked and busy”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you how it goes. Bye, Darcy”

As soon as you hang up, Darcy calls Wanda’s mother.

“We need to delay the operation contact zero for one day”

“I’ll call my insider” the woman answers criptically.

“You scare me, Ekaterina” Darcy says, questioning if the woman is some sort of retired spy. When she hears the older woman laugh and hang up, she’s 99% convinced that’s the case.

—

“What do you mean, if I can keep her occupied for the entire day? Laura, I’m pregnant!”

“Lily, I know…”

“So pregnant, that if I so much as sneeze, I’m positive this baby will just pop out!”

“That’s not how it works, thankfully. Trust me, I know”

“Laura…” the woman pinches the bridge of her nose.

Should have taken maternity leave sooner.

“Look, I get it. It’s complicated, but I promise you, if you listen to me, Wanda will sign the deal and go back and forth between Boston and Westview”

Thing is, Lily really needs this. If her boss finally finds an illustrator that can live up to her expectations, then she can take her leave and not be bothered by work in the upcoming 12 weeks.

“Ok, fine. I’ll figure something out”

“Thank you, I owe you big time”

“Uh-hu. Yeah, you do, Mrs. Barton”

“Oh, and try to keep her away from her phone”

“Anything else? Oh, gotta go”

Wanda Maximoff comes out of the arrival’s section in the airport, looking around. Lily waves her hand, and the redhead walks towards her with a smile.

“Hello, you must be Lily…” she goes to shake her hand, but the other woman pulls her in for a hug.

“Sorry about the baby bump, he wants to say hi as well”

“No, no worries at all. How far along?”

“Well, 39 weeks which means I’m ready to pop any day now! That also means we get a driver to take us anywhere you want. So get in the car and prepare for a very busy day, Wanda”

“Oh, my phone is in my bag…” Wanda says as Lily throws it in the trunk.

“No worries, Laura has my number. If anyone needs to reach you she can text or call” the woman insists, hoping Wanda doesn’t push it.

Of course, she doesn’t as she wants to make a good impression on her potential employers.

“Let’s start with the Paul Revere house, shall we?”

—

You look at yourself in the mirror for the tenth time. When was the last time you dressed fancy?

Even if it’s tailored to perfection, you’re still making sure the red suit is looking fine, adjusting the white shirt underneath the jacket.

Though you don’t know what Natasha’s wearing, she promised you’d match.

And she’s right, because when she knocks on your door and you open it, she’s wearing a black and red sequenced dress. It’s a mermaid cut that favors her figure.

“Shall we get going?” she says when you keep staring.

“Yes, of course. Don’t laugh at me” you add when you spot a faint smile on her face.

“I already told you, it’s fun to see you flustered”

“Mhm. Are the lovebirds joining us?”

“I think they’ll be arriving separately. It’s not like prom where we all ride a limo”

“Well, I didn’t go to prom, and if I had, it certainly wouldn’t have been on a limo” you say, making Natasha laugh.

She drives you to the gala, as you have no idea where it’s all happening. A man approaches to open your door and help you out.

“Fancy” you comment when a valet takes Natasha’s car. “And I’m surprised you let anyone else drive that thing”

“They already know how much it costs” she comments.

If you think a man opening the car door is fancy, then what the hell is the thing waiting inside? There’s a chandelier, a string quartet, servers dressed to the nines and the best part, an open bar with all the things you could dream of drinking.

“Hey, where are you dragging me?”

“We have to say hello first” Natasha says through her teeth. “You’ll get drunk later, trust me”

The woman drags you to a table where Melina is chatting with two men, and they introduce themselves. The names don’t ring any bells, but apparently they are congressmen.

“A pleasure” you say, hoping the small talk can end soon.

“Is this your first gala? I don’t recall seeing you before”

“Yes, I’m working as Head of Trauma at Romanoff Medical Center until they can find someone to stay for good” you explain.

“Why not stay here? Is there somewhere else you might want to go?”

“I’m not sure. Coming to Boston was never in my plans but here I am. I guess I’m just living one day at a time” you say with a fake smile. Natasha picks up on your discomfort, ending the conversation and excusing the both of you.

She goes around the room to introduce you to other people, but when Yelena finally arrives you walk up to meet her.

“Took your sweet time” Natasha scolds her.

“We got caught up… in something” Yelena explains as Kate joins her. You notice she’s wearing an all black suit, which is a stark contrast to Yelena’s golden, low cut dress.

“Oh, looks like you have a hickey there” you point at a spot in Yelena’s neck, her hand flying to cover it.

“I told you not to…” she glares at Kate, and you laugh.

“She didn’t. But now we know you both were getting nasty”

Natasha laughs as well. Yelena is about to curse at you, when her mother interrupts her.

“Behave” she warns. “Hello, I am Yelena’s mother”

“Kate Bishop” the girl introduces herself, and Melina arches an eyebrow.

“Bishop, as in Bishop Security?”

“Yes, that would be correct” Kate says, visibly awkward.

“Well, I’d love to catch up with your mother. Had I known you’d be here, I would have invited her as well. Next time” Melina nods, leaving as someone calls for her a moment later.

“So, am I the only one who isn’t some sort of nepo baby?” you throw the question in the air, making the Romanoffs roll their eyes.

“I’ll find our seats”

Yelena leaves too, but Kate stays behind, sitting next to you at the bar.

“So…”

“Whisky neat” you ask the bartender as he walks by.

“When are you returning to Westview?” Kate says.

“Make it a doble” you add, sighing. The brunette doesn’t take the hint, though.

“You are returning to Westview, right? Doctor Lewis mentioned your contract is only for three months…”

“Yeah, but I quit. And I doubt Fury will want to hire me again. I was a jerk that left without any notice, all because I couldn’t handle my break up” you mutter against the glass, sipping.

But Kate’s always been curious, questioning everything. It’s what makes her a great student, but right now? She’s a pain in your ass.

“So, what are you doing when the contract…?”

“Jesus, Kate. I don’t know. I try not to plan ahead ever since I bought a ring and fucked up my entire relationship. I had expectations about the future and now I can barely leave my bed. So, when my contract’s done I’ll decide what to do next”

“Right, I’m sorry”

“Kate, come sit” Yelena calls for her, her tone gentle. You look up, meeting hazel eyes that are glaring at you. But you decide to ignore Yelena and keep drinking.

The bartender sneaks out to smoke every ten minutes. Though this last break has been longer and you are in desperate need for more alcohol.

Another woman walks up to the bar, looking around.

“Ugh, I’ll do it myself. What can I get you?” you give up, walking behind the bar. You nod as you listen to the woman ask for a gin tonic. Between sips of your own drink, you pour gin over the ice, add tonic water and lime juice.

“Delicious!” the woman says. “Are you a bartender as well?”

“No, I’m a surgeon, which is why that lemon wedge is so perfectly cut” you joke, raising your glass to clink it against hers. “I’m Y/N”

“Valkyrie” the woman introduces herself. “Which hospital?”

“Stark Hospital” you answer out of habit. Then you shake your head, and clear your throat. “Sorry, meant to say I was at Stark, now I’m at RMC”

“So you must know Maria”

“Rambeau? Yeah, she’s great. I’m actually going to be her fiancee’s bridesmaid” you say, smiling.

“Glad to hear they were able to fix things. I was sad to see her go from the program, though, it was great to have such an experienced Peeds surgeon” she sighs.

“Wait. You’re on Doctor’s Without Borders?”

“Yes, I coordinate international programs. Why? You interested?” the woman smiles.

“Well… my contract is temporary. And I’ve always wanted to do that, but never really had the time or means”

After med school, it took a while for you to settle and pay off your student debt, so even participating in something like that felt like a bit of a luxurious career detour that you couldn’t afford.

But now, with all the money you’re earning -and saving on rent- it could very well be the next step in your career.

“You don’t have to answer right away. Here’s my card” Val says. “Remind me your specialty”

“Trauma”

“Never mind, you’re coming on the next flight with me” she jokes and you laugh.

Someone else calls for her and Val raises her glass, grateful for the drink. As you wave goodbye, you notice yours is painfully empty.

“Can I get some tequila, please?” you ask the bartender, who is finally back. However, Natasha comes out of nowhere, speaking over you.

“She’ll have water or coffee”

“Hey! Are you this controlling with all your dates?”

“Only when I find out my mother wants to put you on the spot in the middle of her speech” she whispers, which makes your eyes widen. “You’re too drunk to be coherent, so better sober up, now”

“What does she even want me to say?” you whisper yell as Natasha takes you to the table.

“That we’re a Level 1 Trauma Center and will continue to be one with your work”

“I’m not staying…”

“She’s hoping that putting you on the spot will awaken some sense of duty. Don’t expect it to make sense” Natasha mutters, sitting next to you.

Kate is to your left, chatting with Yelena, tensing when you sit down next to her.

Melina walks up to the small stage, and people clap as she prepares for her speech.

“Hey, about before…” you lean towards Kate, trying to apologize. Yelena shushes you and you glare. “I’m still your boss, Belova”

“Not tonight” she says, pulling Kate by the hand so she turns to the stage, her back to you.

“Evening’s going great” you grumble next to Natasha.

“I see why you only leave the penthouse to go clubbing”

But you can’t say anyhting as Melina begins her speech, thanking every big donor of the Romanoff foundation, NGOs working to bring awareness about certain diseases and the hospital staff, of course.

“It’s an exciting time for us. We are gearing up to do the second xenotransplant of a genetically altered kidney” Melina pauses when people clap again. “We’re also advancing and innovating in the ER, and as some of you may already know, we have a new…”

“I’m gonna throw up” you complain, hating whenever there’s attention drawn to you.

“Just clap and smile along”

“I’m seriously gonna throw up” you say, regretting the amount of alcohol you drank.

And just as Melina is about to say your name and point towards you, a man walks in the room, shouting.

“Is there a doctor here? We have an emergency!”

—

Wanda’s had quite the day. She’s now barely making it to the hotel, Lily waddling next to her.

“Oh, looks like there’s a fancy gala happening” she points out as they walk across the lobby.

Wanda doesn’t pay attention to that, finally able to check her messages.

The last one was of you saying you’d be out for the evening but that Wanda could call anytime if she needed something.

Honestly, she can’t wait to go up to her room and call you.

Unless…

Did you mean you were out on a date?

Wanda’s still trying to figure out the meaning behind the message when Lily, who was speaking to the receptionist to confirm Wanda’s reservation, laughs nervously.

“Well, looks like my water just broke”

“What did you just say?” Wanda snaps out of it, looking at Lily’s feet. “Well, ok, calm down. It’s gonna be fine. Can we get some help here?”

“What’s wrong?” the concierge asks, but catches on a second later when Lily sits on the floor, breathing heavily. “Oh, crap. Let’s just…”

For some weird reason, he runs to the other room where the fancy event is happening, shouting that they need a doctor.

Half the room turns to look at him and at least an entire table stands up.

“What kind of emergency?”

“A woman’s in labor”

“Ok, show me. Excuse me, ER doctor coming through”

Wanda’s so focused on helping Lily breath, that she doesn’t fully notice what’s happening or rather, who kneels beside her until she hears your voice.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. What’s your name?”

You’re completely immersed in your work, removing your jacket and pulling up the sleeves of your shirt to move around freely.

“Lily. I’m 39 weeks pregnant, should I push?”

“No, no! Absolutely not!” you rush to say, “Let’s call an ambulance, please?”

As you look around the room, seeing who will do as you ask, you finally notice someone who is kneeling next to you. Must be a friend of the woman.

You turn to ask if there’s anyone you should call when you meet those beautiful, green eyes. Ones you’d recognise anywhere.

“Wanda?”

“Hey”

Hey? Seriously?

A whole month thinking about you every second of every god damn day and the best Wanda can do is say hey

Are you fucking kidding me, Maximoff.

“Do you need help?”

“I’m here, I’m her resident”

Even if Yelena and Kate are… whatever they are, they’re still going to compete over getting some cases.

“Check her pulse and time contractions, if there are any” you tell them both, standing up and dragging Wanda with you. “I’m very confused right now. Are the kids ok? Why are you here?”

“It’s kind of a long story… and I, that’s why I texted earlier, but then the day got crazy and you told me you were on a date”

“Not a date” Natasha clarifies, appearing behind you. “Ambulance is here, the hospital’s been alerted. You should ride with them, get out of the speech while you can”

“Thanks” you nod, seeing the EMTs pull over. You turn to Wanda. “Are you coming with her?”

“No, Wanda, stay and get some rest, I made you walk around the city all day” Lily pleads.

“Are you crazy? No one should be doing this alone. I’m coming with you until your boyfriend gets to the hospital” Wanda decides, jumping on the back of the ambulance with Lily and you.

Yelena and Kate scramble to their feet, trying to get on the vehicle as well.

“Ok, it’s a little crowded in here, plus this is your family’s gala and Bishop, you are Yelena’s date. No one else goes”

“Fine” they mutter, disappointed.

The ride to the hospital is silent except for the machines monitoring Lily’s blood pressure. You’re keeping an eye on that, while checking on her heartbeat, using a stethoscope that you found in the ambulance.

“I forgot how good you are at that” Wanda says when your eyes meet again.

“At what? Checking a heartbeat?”

“Handling toddlers”

She’s talking about Yelena and Kate, which makes you laugh.

“Well, Billy and Tommy behave a hell of a lot better than those two back there”

“Not lately” Wanda sighs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess everything up so badly, Wanda” you regret, leaning back.

“Am I missing something? You two know each other?” Lily says, pointing at Wanda and then at you. “Is that why Laura asked me to keep you busy this entire day?”

“She what?”

“We dated” you offer as an explanation, smiling at the woman in the stretcher.

“How long ago? Because you are still giving each other some major heart eyes”

It’s clear that the mild sedative is making the woman spill her every thought.

“Until a month ago”

“Well, whichever one of you screwed up, better get their act together because you’re clearly not over each other” Lily says.

“It was my fault” Wanda says at the same time as you. You both look at each other and you give her a small smile.

“I beg to differ, Miss Maximoff. It was me who got it all wrong”

“Not just you. I messed up real bad” Wanda says, leaning forward.

You’re about to say something else when the ambulance stops, and the doors open. You excuse yourself, giving the nurses and doctors a summary of the patient, walking next to Lily’s stretcher.

“I’ll come find you once she’s settled in a room” you promise Wanda.

She nods, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. What are the odds?

Which also brings her back to what Lily said. Why did Laura want her busy for the entire day?

There’s only one way to find out.

“Hey, how did it go today?” her friend picks up the phone, though it sounds like there’s an echo.

“Am I on speaker?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m cooking dinner” Laura lies.

“Are there children around?”

“No, why…”

“Ok, then what the fuck is going on, Laura?”

Somebody else whistles, and Wanda hears Pietro’s voice.

“Looks like you ladies got caught”

“Why are you there? Who else is around? Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on right now…”

“Give that to me” Darcy says, pushing Laura out of the way. “Hi, nice speaking to you, Maximoff. It’s just me, Laura, your mother and Pietro. Listen, we’ve been busting our asses for you to meet at the right time and find a way to make up with Y/N so I get my best friend back. So don’t fuck it up now, ok?”

“You’re not helping!” Laura protests. “Wanda, what do you mean? What happened today?”

“The minute I landed, Lily drove me around the entire city without a break. Did you manipulate a very pregnant woman to keep me busy and away from Y/N for the day?”

“Well, yeah. She was going with Natasha to the gala and I didn’t want you pulling one of your stunts again, not after getting so far along the plan” Darcy bites back.

“Great, so I crashed her date with Natasha with a woman giving birth. What a loser” Wanda massages her temples.

“Did you just say Lily was givig birth?” Laura says. “Oh, my God! Do you think it was my fault?”

“That’s a possibility, I’m not gonna lie to you” Darcy admits, taking the phone back. “Listen. Work it out with Y/N. Talk, fight, have angry sex, whatever it takes. I need my friend back, and you better grovel on the floor to beg for her forgiveness”

“I want to speak to my mother. Privately” Wanda ignores Darcy, knowing who’s really behind all of this.

“Hello, malyshka” Ekaterina greets, removing the speaker and walking away from Wanda’s kitchen, into the living room. Darcy and Laura put their ears against the door, trying to listen.

Pietro just laughs, shaking his head.

“Mama, you had no right…”

“Wanda? Lily’s in a room now” you call for her.

“This conversation isn’t over” she warns her mother, hanging up. “You wouldn’t believe what I just learned…”

Wanda’s looking down at her phone as she walks towards you, that adorable frown that she makes whenever something upsets her.

She keeps talking, but you’re looking at her lips, remembering how much you love kissing her.

Wanda notices, and she stops talking, but leans forward.

Her lips are so close, and then you hear the worst sound in the world.

“Doctor Y/L/N, your patient is… oooh”

To your missfortune, Ed interrupts you in that precise moment.

Of all people, it had to be the circus clown.

“Get lost, will ya?”

Wanda slaps your arm, but she has no idea how annoying the kid can be.

“She was asking for a Wanda, which I believe might be you…” he points to her.

“Come on” you guide her to Lily’s room. As you walk next to Wanda, you place your hands in your pockets, trying to hold back on reaching out to touch her.

You have no idea why she’s here, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, does it? It was all said and done between you two. If you kiss her, you’ll go back to square one.

“Hey!” Lily greets as soon as you open the door for Wanda. There’s another woman standing next to the bed. She has short, grey hair and a kind smile.

“Wanda! Thank you so much for being there for Lily. I told her she should have been on maternity leave sooner”

“I wanted to find you the perfect artist” Lily sighs, adjusting herself on the bed.

“Doctor, thank you so much for helping Lily” the woman says. You have no idea what’s going on, or why she’s so happy to talk to Wanda.

What you do know is that it’s none of your business.

“Just doing my job. OBGYN will take it from here, as it looks like you’ll have to wait a bit before you’re ready to give birth”

“Your boyfriend’s on the way, right?” the woman asks Lily, and she nods. “We’ll keep you company for a bit, and once he’s here, we could go get something to eat. What do you think, Wanda?”

“Oh, I was…”

But when Wanda looks back, you’re already closing the door.

“Everything ok?” Wendy insists.

“Yeah, everything’s fine”

—

Wanda got the job.

It was hers.

Wendy Lawson was way cooler in person, and didn’t have a problem when Wanda was only half present during their conversation over dinner.

She thought the younger woman was just tired.

And now, back in her room, Wanda finally gets to rest and shower. You’re all she can think about.

It’s one thing to see you in an Instagram post, and another one to be right in front of you.

You seem healthy and happy. Even fitter, your hair longer and a bit of a stronger built. You must spend a lot of time at the gym.

But it’s you, the same smile, those kind eyes and the quiet confidence while you treat patients.

Honestly, Wanda’s very disappointed with herself. She was hoping to have a big speech ready, explain why she was in Boston. Grovel and beg for forgiveness, just like Darcy said.

All she got was an ambulance ride and a quick conversation in a hospital hallway.

As she wears one of your hoodies, and changes into a pair of yoga pants, her phone rings.

“I believe we have a pending conversation” her mother says. She’s not afraid of confrontation, never has been.

“Mama, this is my life. You have no right to…”

“Did I tell you I almost didn’t marry your father?” Ekaterina interrupts her daughter. Wanda stays silent, and the woman takes that as a sign to continue. “Your uncle Arvydas told me about a chance to move to England, work as a nanny for an embassador. I’d rather stay in Sokovia and be with your father, but everyone was telling me what to do or what was better for me. And you know what your father said?”

“No”

“He said I want to marry you. I’ll be at the church on the day we planned and I’ll be waiting. The life with you is the one I want. Now you make a choice, but be sure it’s the one you want for yourself, not what others are telling you to do. And whatever that choice is, I will respect it”

“Yeah, that sounds like something Papa would say”

“My darling, you need to follow your heart. At least get some closure if this is really over. But if she’s really the one you want… fight for her”

“I don’t even know where to begin” Wanda sighs.

“Just find her, the rest will come along”

“Give the boys a kiss for me?”

“One for each” her mother promises, hanging up.

It’s not too late, as Wanda saw some people still at the salon.

She walks out of her room, straight to where the gala is happening.

“Excuse me, could I see your invitation?” a man stops her.

“Oh, I… I don’t have any. I just need to talk to someone inside. It will only take a minute”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you…”

“It’s alright” Natasha says, appearing behind Wanda. “She can come inside, I know her”

The man at the door nods, allowing Wanda to pass.

“She’s over there” Natasha points at you, leaning against the bar and drinking from a glass full of whisky. “Will regret those last few drinks tomorrow morning”

“Thank you” Wanda says, nodding towards Natasha. She’s still not sure how she feels about you and the Russian working together.

But it’s none of her business what you do with other people.

“Hey, Y/N”

You do a doble take, wondering if you’re way too drunk and imagining Wanda’s in front of you.

“Hey, hi. How’s Lily?”

“Good. Her boyfriend was there, they were calling family. Preparing for everything”

“Sounds nice”

“Could we talk?” Wanda asks, before she loses her nerve. “Unless you’re busy”

“No, that’s fine” you down the last of your drink and stand up from the stool. “Let’s go”

Wanda decides it would be nice to get a capuccino from a coffee place nearby. You walk with her, noticing she is definitely not wearing the appropriate coat for this weather.

“Here” you offer yours.

“No, I don’t want you getting sick”

“It’s to protect my hoodie, obviously” you joke and she finally accepts it.

“Remember Wendy Lawson?” Wanda asks.

“The author? Yes, the one who went to give a talk to your school and make you consider writing for the first time”

Of course you remember.

“Well, it’s the woman that was standing right there in the middle of Lily’s room. And she offered me a job to illustrate her new book”

“Hey, that’s huge, congratulations” you say as you open the door to the coffee shop, noticing how warmer and nicer it is inside. You order a hot cocoa, while Wanda gets her own coffee.

“I’ll just have to travel back and forth for a bit”

“But the kids…”

“My mother is in town” Wanda clarifies. There’s so much to tell you, but you’re here, walking next to her, offering your coat and smiling at Wanda. Everything’s a mess in her head.

“So that’s why you are not in town” you joke. “I do hope things are better between you two”

“Well, it’s been a whole thing. But listen, that job is not the only reason I came to Boston” Wanda admits once you’re walking back to the hotel. “I wanted to speak to you”

“Oh, right” you say, scared that she’s here to hand over your stuff and make sure you never have to see each other again.

“Y/N, this last month has been… so bad for me. I can’t stop thinking about you, about those horrible things I said. About how I punished you beyond reason for something that wasn’t your fault. I was angry and instead of processing it, I let it out in childish ways to hurt you. Because I thought it was a way to get even”

“Wanda, you weren’t the only one that screwed up. I didn’t set boundaries with Nat. And then made you feel insane when you pointed it out” you sigh, looking at your feet. “I don’t know. Maybe we should have given this a bit of a break after that, instead of rushing back to the same routine, pretending nothing hapened”

“Well, now we had a break. An entire month to think about it, and I thought about it, even when I tried not to. Y/N, I love you. And I want… I want our future together”

You sigh, thinking about it.

Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Getting Wanda back.

But you made the same mistake last time. You simply said you were sorry and jumped back in.

“Do you ever think we rushed things?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we kinda started dating, and I spent every moment in your house because I lived across the street. And then coparenting. I love the kids but I hate myself for hurting them when we broke up”

“So…” Wanda stops outside the hotel, looking at you. She can’t read you right now; all the things you said so far make sense, but they could be arguments to either work on your relationship or call it quits.

“So… let’s date. For a bit” you decide. “Because if we go back to how everything was, and the twins get their hopes up…”

If I get my hopes up.

“That makes sense” Wanda nods.

“But there’s one thing you should know. I work with Natasha and live in the same building as her. I’m not saying we’re best friends or spend every moment together, but we’re in the same room a lot of times”

“I get it. And I appreciate the heads up”

“Alright then. Let's take it slow, then” you nod, walking towards her. “You should head back inside and get some rest”

“What about you?”

“I’ll take a cab home”

“My room’s big enough…”

You interrupt Wanda with a small laugh, walking so close that your lips are inches apart.

“I said slow, Miss Maximoff”

“Since when are you immune to my puppy eyes?” Wanda huffs, crossing her arms.

“I’m not” you shake your head. "Which is why you should really go inside. Now”

Wanda’s eyes travel to your lips and you lean forward, until… you kiss the corner of her mouth.

“Trust me, it will be worth the wait” you smile against her temple.

“Goodnight, Y/N”

“Night, Wands”

[buck-star]

For your drabbles! "You're so excited all the time... it's kind of adorable." With Bucky and his wife? He is so in love with his bubbly wife!

Bucky’s bubbly wife

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings/Tags: established relationship, Bucky being the sweetheart he is, get some tissues because he’s adorable

Authors Note: Thank you for the sweet idea. It’s a pretty short Drabble, but hope you enjoy it anyway. Divider made by me.

Events: Beginnings Bingo [Alts 1 | First Choice | @sweetspicybingo]

“This is adorable! Bucky you’re the best, the best of the best. The most amazing—“ you giggle, taking the bouquet of roses he’s holding out for you. “—Man one can only imagine, and you’re all mine.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head with a soft smile on his plump lips. And fuck, he adores the way you smile and giggle when you get the smallest thing he considers a normal thing. He, as you husband, is supposed to make you happy, to show you how much he loves you, in return he receives the same from you, too.

“You’re so excited all the time, doll. It’s kinda cute,” he laughs softly, watching you intensely when you pull out the small little card that’s sitting between the roses. Your eyes widen, it’s a little, handmade card, a card Bucky made himself, just for you.

“You made a card too!” You squeal, placing the roses on the table next to you before you open the small card.

While the front shows a picture of the two of you when you shared your first kiss, the inside shows a wedding photo of the two of you.

Baby doll,

today — six years back — you stepped into my life. It was the darkest time for me, but you brought the warmth and light back.

It’s been six years, that I fell in love with your smile for the first time when I ordered the same ice cream you love so much — the first time I heard you giggle and my heart skipped a beat.

It’s been six years and I keep falling in love with your smile, with your sweetness, with you giggle, with you.

Thank you for turning the darkness into the light and let me feel what true love really means.

I love you, precious.

“B-Bucky—“ you whisper, tears in your eyes. Bucky smiles softly at you, the same soft expression he’s always having written all over his face when he’s around you. The same softness, he shows you ever single day, the one he will show you for eternity.

“It’s true. I thought, I know… we haven’t really celebrated that day but when I walked past that ice cream shop a few days back—“ Bucky interrupts himself, wrapping both of his arms around you. “I wanted to make sure that we cherish the day we met just as much as our wedding anniversary. Because without you, I don’t know where I would be now. But one thing I know, I wouldn’t be here, in our house, with my wife in my arms.”

“I love you, I love you,” you whisper, pulling Bucky down by his neck. Your lips only inches away from his that you can feel his warm breath. “I love you so much, and I wouldn’t have done anything differently. You’re and you will always be my first choice.”

Bucky smiles, leaning closer to press his lips softly against yours. “I wouldn’t have want it any other way either, you were the missing piece of my puzzle. But now it’s complete, I’m complete with you, my precious, baby doll.” And damn, he loves it. It loves you. How sweet and excited you can be, but also how you can always find words to make him speechless, to make him fall in love with you just like he did the first date he met you.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @princesscore-angel

[telephoniii]

Do you accept requests? I really loved the Really him thing and was wondering if you could do that but him reacting to reader being in a polyamorous relationship with Malleus and Leona? Srry id u not comfortable with it. I thought id ask cuz there are like no poly fics

I’ve actually been debating whether or not to do requests. That and I was thinking about making a masterlist! If people really want to request stuff/have a masterlist then lmk and I’d be down to do it. My verdict rn is; if you have an idea, feel free to send it. 🤷

Also! It's not exactly polyamorous, but I've got a longer fic in the works abt Leona and Malleus being love rivals for the reader. So if that interests you than stay tuned!!

Anyways, lets get to the fun and whimsical stuff!

I’m not poly myself so I’m really sorry if anything is misrepresented. I did decide to add more than just Malleus and Leona since I thought it’d be fun! I hope you enjoy :>

REALLY…HIM? (Poly Addition)

malleus and leona

Oh, you’re going to give this man a heart attack. Because what do you mean you’re dating the two most powerful yet reckless students of them all. Malleus and Leona? The two have a heated rivalry, do they not?!Do you have no concern for your safety?!?!The amount of sheer power these two hold together frighten this poor soul. He tells you to keep your distance if they start to fight. As a magicless student, you do NOT want to get involved if a duel were to break out. No, Trein wants you to RUN if that ever happens. Give him some time to get used to it. The sight of you next to Malleus and Leona in the hallways sends panic throughout his nervous system. After a month or so, Trein mellows out. He’ll start asking technical questions that you don’t have answers to. “If you were to marry them both, would all three of you be the rulers of Briars Valley?” ??? No clue, Professor. Can I get back to my test in peace now?

ace and deuce

He’s not surprised in the slightest. Trein always had an inkling that something was going on between you three. He just didn't want to believe it. Why? Because he doesn't like them. Well, scratch that. He doesn't like Ace. Is he supposed to jump for joy at the fact you’re dating the biggest slacker among all the first years? Trein has a habit of nit-picking them both and what they do. However, despite all the smack he talks, deep down he heavily approves of the relationship. He knows the two boys and doesn't doubt their loyalty to you. It's always been the three of you from the start and he views it as an unbreakable bond. So, even though he makes a face when you walk in with Deuce’s sports jacket and says you should take it off because it smells like sweat, he finds himself smiling when he spots you three sitting together at lunch just enjoying each others company. The way you all joke around and laugh together like you’re the only people in the world. He trusts them with your heart more than anyone else.

vil and rook

He actually thinks it's a pretty sweet relationship at first. You all balance each other out. Vil and Rook earned Trein’s seal of approval to date you from day one… and then Rook sends him a creepy letter thanking him for being supportive and— yep. Trein takes back that seal because what the hell. For the senders name on the letter, it was by both Rook and Vil, so Trein pulls both of them aside to talk about HIS boundaries. (He thought he didn't have to explicitly say, “Don’t stalk me before, during, or after school hours” but here we are) Vil is so confused the whole time. What could've possibly prompted this?? Then he remembers his boyfriend next to him who’s blissfully smiling and it all starts to make sense. With a sigh, Vil ends up apologizing to Trein for the whole ordeal and tells you about it as well. Rook gives you a kiss and promises to just watch Trein from afar. You don’t know how much better that is and it seems like Vil is thinking the same thing as he lets out a small groan. Trein is forever unnerved by your relationship— specifically because of Rook.

jamil and azul

Honey, are you being manipulated into this relationship? Which one of them is gaslighting you? Trein knows that they both have deceptive tendencies and is concerned. He’s not actively against it or anything, but he just keeps a close eye on the three of you. Jamil and Azul pick up on this and silently agree to each other that they want to prove themselves to Trein. Expect to get the ultimate royalty treatment everytime the Professor is around. One moment they’re playfully poking fun at you, the next they are cherishing the ground you walk on. (As they should) Unfortunately, it ends up having the opposite effect where Trein is even more suspicious and starts telling you to keep your distance from them. Jamil lets out a tired sigh an decides to do the mature thing by actually talking to Trein about their relationship with you. He drags Azul along with him and makes sure to keep him in check during the discussion. Jamil’s honesty takes Trein by surprise. Usually he wasn't one to make himself notable like that. Azul, reluctantly, ends up being honest about his feelings and relationship regarding you after Jamil. Afterward, Trein doesn’t say anything the next time he sees the three of you together. Instead, he just gives you a small nod and smile. Wow. Ultimate approval. Jamil and Azul high-five each other under the table.

[janeyseymour]

Two Roads Diverged In A Wood

summary: a great valentines day prompt for @jeridandridge

WC: ~2.25

When Melissa broke up with Gary, you couldn’t necessarily state that you were shocked. Were you happy this might mean that you could have your shot with the gorgeous redhead? Perhaps. Did you enjoy seeing the shift in her attitude since very publicly rejecting his proposal of marriage? No. It was quite clear to you that the second grade teacher was miserable. Did she regret her decision? Not in the slightest. Did that make it any easier on her heart? No.

“For what it’s worth,” you lean in and tell her softly. “I think you did the right thing following your heart.”

“Thanks,” Melissa sighs, lips quirked to one side. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know,” you pat her arm affectionately.

“I gotta pay for the vending machine now too,” the second grade teacher grumbles. “You know how much I was saving not having to pay?”

You can’t help but laugh at that question. Melissa Schemmenti could quite possibly be the only person who would think about something as trivial as paying for her snacks and iced tea after going through a breakup.

“Probably a lot,” you chuckle.

“My body is used to having at least two iced teas a day now,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “I can’t afford that.”

When there’s an iced tea sitting on her desk for the next two weeks when she gets in, she just smiles softly to herself and thanks you quietly once she enters the staff lounge. 

As it would be, breaking up with somebody you’ve been in a relationship with for a few years sucks. It sucks even more when Melissa remembers that Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. The redhead is only reminded of this when everyone is talking about what they’re doing for the holiday.

“Melissa, you’re always more than welcome to join Gerald and me,” Barbara offers kindly, although she knows Melissa won’t take her up on it.

“I ain’t crashin’ your Valentines,” the second grade teacher quips. “I’ll do a lot of things, but I ain’t doin’ that.”

“You always know that you’re able to,” Barb tells her best friend. 

“I… uh, I don’t have any plans other than to paint and watch television if you just wanted to come over and veg out with me,” you offer quietly. 

“That’d be really nice,” Melissa says softly, and she nudges you gently as a thank you.

Once lunch is over, Barbara practically swarms her work wife. “You’re really going to go over to Y/N’s?”

The redhead shrugs. “I think it’ll be a nice reprieve from all of the hectic-ness of Valentine’s Day, especially this year.”

“You think that’s a smart idea? To go over to her house when she’s part of the reason you broke it off with Gary in the first place?”

Melissa bites her lip nervously, but she doesn’t say anything. Again, she just looks to her friend and gives half a shrug in response. 

Valentine’s Day, as it always is, is chaotic as ever. The Abbott crew just barely manages to avoid another Halloween candy fiasco again. You send the sugar-high children off to reign hell on the streets or with their parents with a relieved sigh. Over lunch, you had told your redheaded guest she could head over anytime after 5. And now that you’re leaving, you figure that maybe you should stop by the store to make this significantly more difficult holiday easier to bear for the second grade teacher.

It’s not the most difficult thing in the world to shop for Melissa. You know she prefers red wine, so you grab a bottle of that. Flowers are easy- she likes anything pink, red, or white. You grab a bouquet of roses dotted with a few baby’s breath and hope that she likes them. Chocolate is always a hit with anyone. You do opt for some of the nicer chocolate and grab a pack of strawberries. Maybe the two of you can decorate some together. With a sigh, you throw a bag of white chocolate chips into the basket. If that doesn’t seem like the right move though, you do place a container of tiramisu in your cart as well. As for dinner, you had told her that you were planning on just ordering takeout, and you stick to your word.

By the time you get home and haul your groceries into the house, the clock is reading 4:50. Ready to be out of your work attire, you tell yourself you’ll put everything away while you’re waiting for the redhead. A few moments later, you’re descending back down the steps and into the kitchen with your pink sweatpants on and a comfortable hoodie. Sliding your slippers on as you go, you go about putting everything away. You’re interrupted a few minutes later to the doorbell ringing, and your phone going off with a text to let you know that Melissa had arrived. 

“It’s open!” you call as you finish putting everything away. No sooner do you hear the front door open, and your colleague is kicking off her shoes at the front door. “Kitchen!”

Footsteps approach, and when you turn with the flowers that you had bought for the woman, Melissa smiles softly.

“Those are gorgeous. Who got you those?”

“They’re for you, dumb ass,” you smirk as you hand them over. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 5She instinctively smells them, the smile on her face only getting sweeter.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Melissa whispers, although you can tell the small act practically made her day.

“I didn’t,” you chuckle. “Now, what do you want to order for dinner?”

Once the two of you have finally decided on dinner (it ends up just being Chinese takeout), you reach for the wine glasses and the bottle of wine that you picked up for the occasion.

“You don’t like this wine,” Melissa notes softly as she watches you expertly open her preferred drink and pour her a serving.

“I don’t,” you chuckle. Then you reach for the cabinet again and pull out your own glass of wine. “But you do, so…”

“Did you pick up this bottle specifically for me?”

You shrug with a smile and lead the redhead to the couch. On the table, there are a few different canvases for the two of you to pick from, different brushes, paints, and old takeout containers filled with water.

“You paint?” the second grade teacher raises a brow.

A bit shy, you point to the elegant landscape above your television. “I painted that.”

Green eyes widen and turn to you with shock. “So what the hell are you doing being a teacher?”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” you chuckle. “All for fun.”

“Well, I sure as hell can’t paint like that,” the redhead looks to you.

And as supportive as ever, you just give her an encouraging smile. “That’s the great thing about art and painting. It doesn’t have to look like that. As long as you, or someone who is lucky enough to see it, feels something when they look at it, it’s art.”

“You would say something like that,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “And mean it so earnestly too.”

You just continue to smile as you pick up a brush. You silently push your coworker to pick up her own brush, which she does.

“What are you planning on painting?” Melissa asks you.

“I don’t have much in my kitchen, so I’m thinking just some little canvases to hang… think silly home goods sayings,” you chuckle. And with that, you reach for a canvas, reach for a bottle of paint, and get to work.

You only work for a few minutes on one canvas, painting cow-like spots in pinks and browns on it, before moving to another and doing the same to another canvas. And while you’re waiting for your work to dry, you see that Melissa is simply watching you.

“I thought we were doing this together,” you note as you reach for your wine glass and take a sip.

Red hair swishes from one side to the other. “I- the way you work is… wow. I could never do that.”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“So freely… in silence.”

If silence is the issue, you can sure as hell fix that. “I’ll be right back.”

You miss the way those striking green eyes are trained on your ass. But you’re back in a  few seconds with a guitar in one hand and a ukulele in another. Perfectly drawn on brows lift.

You don’t give her a verbal answer, only sit down, silently instruct her to pick up her brush again, and begin to play a soft tune on the guitar. Your voice begins to lay over the instruments beautifully, and after a few minutes, Melissa’s canvas is covered in beauty- that’s the only way you can describe it. You set your instrument down with a satisfied smile.

“See? You just needed some inspiration. That’s beautiful,” you compliment quietly.

Your colleague rolls her eyes. “It’s a bunch of colors.”

“But you felt something while I was singing, right?” you ask. “You were moved and let it all flow through you?”

The redhead glances down at her canvas. And it looks… she’s somewhat impressed with how nicely she blended the colors. “Yeah. But now I don’t know what to do.”

It’s then that the doorbell rings, and your dinner has arrived. The meal is pleasant, conversation flowing easily between the two of you. It also gives you a chance to let your partially finished painting dry.

Once you’re finished cleaning up your takeout containers, you smile at the redhead and pour her a bit more wine. Then you pick up your paint brush.

“You’re adding more?” she asks.

“Just the last few details,” you chuckle softly. On one canvas, you paint a few vines before pulling out your sharpie and writing “Love Grows Here” in your loopy script. On the other, you paint a simple line art espresso cup before writing “I like you a latte” underneath of it. You set the two pieces of art down with a satisfied look on your face.

“How?” Melissa asks simply. “How do you just… know how to do that?”

You shrug before looking at her canvas. “What are you going to add to yours?”

“I- I don’t really know,” she admits.

You give it another glance before suggesting softly, “Maybe you could add a few little vines and flowers and write a quote on that underneath.”

Those full lips quirk to the side in thought before it’s clear that an idea strikes her. The woman picks up a brush and gestures for you to pick up your guitar again. You oblige her request, although you’re a bit confused. And then you begin.

By the time you’re finished the first song, Melissa’s tongue is poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration as she paints… two paths?

“I’m just going to start getting dessert ready,” you promise her as you set your instrument down.

You’re able to heat up the chocolates that you bought earlier, bring out the strawberries, and carry them on a tray out to the coffee table when you see that Melissa has now picked up the sharpie and is writing a quote in the middle of her canvas. 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.-Robert Frost

“Frost?” you ask softly as she finishes crossing the ’t’.

Two shoulders shrug up and down. “I always liked that poem.” Then her eyes catch a glance at what you’ve brought into the room. “Chocolate covered strawberries?”

“They are,” you laugh. “But I figured it might be fun to be able to decorate them, or at least dip them in ourselves while we watch a movie or something.”

Green eyes light up as you settle in next to her.

The both of you end up eating your fair share of dessert before relaxing into the couch together. The way that the cushions lay, you’re sitting quite close to each other. Your hip is practically on the edge of her thigh. The blush creeps into your cheeks quickly.

You sit there quietly, as does she. The movie plays softly until you feel a soft cheek rest itself on your shoulder. When you look down, you expect the redhead to be asleep, or at least dozing. But she isn’t. She’s fully coherent and watching the movie with full attention. You can’t help but smile to yourself, your cheeks feeling ever so slightly warm.

“You good?”

“Just… relaxing,” Melissa mumbles into your shoulder. “And you’re warm.”

You can’t help the soft chuckle that falls off your lips as you wrap an arm around her and pull her closer. After a few minutes, you feel an arm delicate drape itself over your waist.

Melissa would never admit it, but this is the first time she’s been held in a long time- longer than she would’ve expected, with the feeling of being safe. Her guard is down, and she has not a care in the world as the movie quietly drones on around the two of you.

At some point, the two of you must fall asleep because the next thing you remember is glancing at the clock and it being two in the morning.

“Lis,” you mumble as you shake her shoulder gently.

Her eyes peel open, and she looks enraged at being woken up before she realizes she’s still with you- she’s still in your arms. “Hey. Sorry I fell asleep.”

You smile. “Nothing to apologize for,” you whisper. “I fell asleep too.”

“Well, I guess I should get out of your hair,” Melissa mutters as she tries to disentangle herself from you. But you keep your hold on her.

“Just stay the night. It’s two in the morning, and I don’t want you out there this late.” Yeah… that’s why you want her to stay the night; it definitely isn’t because she’s warm and loving and…

“Okay.”

And so, the two of you stumble your way up the steps for the night, falling onto the bed unceremoniously as the exhaustion truly seeps its way into your bones. Her head rests in the crook of you neck as the two of you fall asleep tangled together for the first time. You can only hope that it won’t be the last time. Maybe, by next Valentine’s Day, you’ll actually be a couple- not just two coworkers with lonely souls longing for each other. 

[a-pute11as]

a 'galentines' date? - ingrid engen

word count - 3.2k | summary - how harmless can a 'galentines' date between two friends be??... until they a tipsy confession gets the better of the situation

MDNI 18 + - 18+ themes & soft smut

you had settled into the barcelona life pretty well, you’d been enjoying the good coffee, the multiple different sightseeing opportunities and the new love of football you had found whilst being at your new team. finding little parts of home in every player you met definitely made the transition easier, and it helped that the majority of your teammates spoke pretty good english too. 

ingrid and frido volunteered their support when you first joined, living a few streets away from you, they offered to give you a tour of your new neighbourhood, the best shopping areas and hiking routes to take up your days off. the three of you had became somewhat of a trio.

yet your bond with ingrid had seemingly grown beyond that, suddenly trio dates turned into duo dates, frido conveniently cancelled with a new excuse anytime it was somewhat acceptable. her texts would play out very similar to: ‘it’s my brothers cousins birthday, so i’ve got to facetime them, sorry guys’ which confused you more than you’d like to admit but you went along with it anyways. 

naturally you and ingrid drifted closer, movie nights at her apartment ended in the two of you suspiciously close for people considered to be ‘just friends’ or late night restaurants reservations where you’d put more time into your appearance than you’d ever done before. 

deep down you knew you were developing feelings for her, you couldn’t help yourself when she smiled at you and her eyes lit up or the way her body would move as you watched her effortlessly move along the pitch with such a level of grace. but you couldn’t help but question if she felt the same way towards you. 

~

you sat on the bench at the side of the training pitch, taking a few sips from your water as you caught your breath. you watched as ingrid made her way over to you, sweat glistening off her as her arm brushed across her forehead as she let a deep breath out before joining you on the bench with a smile. the two of you sat in comfortable silence, watching your other teammates finish their training drills, yet you couldn’t help as your eyes would drift in her direction in the most subtle way. 

“have you got any plans for tonight?” ingrid asked, breaking the silence between the two of you. how could you forget? it was valentines day, the one day you were constantly reminded you had a pathetic love life and silently lusted after a girl who considered you as a good friend. 

“nope” you shook your head dramatically before turning to face her, “what about you? is there a secret crush you’re getting with tonight?” you asked in return, wiggling your eyebrows, hoping the answer would be no. 

ingrid’s face flushed red instantly as she choked slightly on the water she had been drinking, “oh no, absolutely not” she replied, laughing it off. silence fell back between the two of you before ingrid spoke up again. “well maybe you and i should go out for dinner tonight i mean, because you know frido has plans so we should do something?”.

“like a galentines date?” you asked, glad you wouldn’t be spending the night alone, but more glad you’d be spending more time with ingrid.

“galentines? what’s that” she questioned, her face scrunching up at the word which sounded ridiculous towards her. 

“it’s like valentines but with your friends so it’s called galentines!” you explained with a shrug, trying to play down the excitement that was building in your stomach. somehow this was so different to your usual last minute restaurant outings. 

“you’re such an idiot sometimes, did you really just make up a word for a friend date” she laughed, shaking her head. 

“shut up, it's actually a real word!” you defended, rolling your eyes at her accusation, “sometimes i forget you’re older than me”

“by 2 years!” she justified, “anyways, i’ve already got a reservation so just make sure you dress pretty” she smiled, standing up and making her way towards the changing rooms as you quickly trailed behind. 

having a post-training physio assessment meant you were leaving the training ground slightly later than expected, most of your teammates filled out, as ingrid made her way towards the door she made the point of stopping in front of you “i’ll pick you up at 7:30, don’t be late” she winked with a smile before turning and heading out of the changing room. 

you smiled at her comment, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks at her wink. 

“what are you guys doing tonight?” cata asked, unwrapping the tape from around her wrists.

“oh uh dinner tonight, like a friend date” you announced, looking up at cata who was now wearing a large smirk across her face, “why is your face like that?”.

“nothing nena, just a very romantic thing to do on valentines day” she shrugged, her cocky smirk still covering her face, “are you going back to hers after, for some chocolate covered strawberries or netflix and chill?” she laughed lightly. 

you instantly picked up the closest thing to you, and threw it in the direction of cata, luckily it was only your partially sweaty sock, “shut up asshole, we are just friends”.

she automatically caught it, stupid goalkeeper hands, “mhmmm, but if you both magically confess your feelings tonight then you owe me”

your mind hadn’t even considered that, yes you’d been spending more and more time with ingrid, and yes some of that time had been somewhat cuddled up on a sofa together, and yes part of you was hoping some part of what cata said was true but she couldn’t be serious, ingrid didn’t see you that way. 

soon enough you were running around your apartment trying to put the finishing touches to your outfit together, yet again you were putting in a lot of effort for a meal with a ‘friend’, the same kind of effort you’d usually use for a first date. opting for the outfit that was tight, yet comfortable, whilst showing off some skin but still leaving things for the imagination had you looking in the mirror at yourself with somewhat of a grin. maybe there was a reason you were going to all these lengths for a simple meal with ingrid. 

there was a knock on your door as you gave yourself one last look over before walking to open the door to your guest. pulling the door open, far too eagerly, your eyes widened at the site in front of you. behind a beautiful bunch of flowers, you were greeted by a jaw dropping woman. she was dressed in a white button up shirt, a black fitted jacket and wide leg leather trousers that hung to her curves perfectly. you instinctively gulped as your eyes travelled her body like it was a map, taking in every single aspect of the norwegian goddess standing at your door.

it was like a switch had flicked inside you. 

“you alright there?” she laughed slightly, tilting her head with a smile as she found herself delighted with your reaction, grateful for the outfit choice frido had helped with. 

you snapped out of the deep gaze the view infront of you had you in, looking up as your cheeks had flushed a deep red from being unashamedly caught of eye-fucking the woman infront of you, “you look incredible” was all you managed to splutter out.

“du er søt” (you are cute) she stated, “can i come in?”. you quickly nodded, moving aside to let her in as you immediately shut the door before your eyes found her again, “i got you these”, she smiled, extending the flowers towards you in her arms. 

“ingrid, these are beautiful, you really didn’t have to” you took the flowers into your arms as you closely inspected them, noticing they included your favourite flowers, remembering a conversation you had with ingrid only a few weeks ago where you had mentioned them. “i’m sorry i didn’t get you anything” you looked up at her guiltily, feeling slightly embarrassed at how unprepared you were.

“being able to take you out is a present enough for me, you look beautiful” she commented, copying your previous actions of letting her eyes wander your figure, you let the silence fill the room until she asked if you were ready to go.

“yes and i’m on time!” you smiled, pleased with yourself for finally being on time, “let me just put these in water” referencing the flowers. 

she smiled at you softly as you were clearly happy with your attempt at time keeping, then making your way to your door to hold it open as the two of you left your apartment. 

as the two of you arrived at the restaurant you quickly realized ingrid had booked one of the most exclusive restaurants in barcelona, one that you often had to pay a hefty deposit but also book months in advance. 

“you have really outdone yourself” you looked around in amazement as you followed closely behind ingrid who was being walked through the restaurant by a man in an incredibly fancy suit. 

arriving at the table, ingrid pulled out your seat allowing you to sit down before tucking it in slightly “you deserve it” she spoke softly, sitting down at the seat opposite you. 

“huh?” you tilted your head, your face gaining a puzzled look at her answer. 

“well you know because… you’re such a good friend” she said unconvincingly, pausing slightly in between her sentences.

you couldn’t quite figure out why her words stung a little. 'good friend'. over the past few months, you had grown so close with ingrid, hoping that some part of her felt the same way you did but maybe you were reading too much into things.

you shook off her words, trying to focus on the menu in front of you when you caught a glimpse of ingrid taking off her jacket, revealing the way her top few buttons were left undone. your eyes fixated on the small bit of cleavage that her shirt revealed, alongside the black lace bra you had caught a glimpse of. that was definitely going to be a distraction. 

the next few hours were filled with incredible conversation, tasty wine and occasionally your eyes drifting downwards mid conversation. your food was long gone and the two of you were still sitting enjoying each other's presence. 

to say the two of you were tipsy and giggly would be an understatement, you couldn’t help but smile at everything the norwegian said, or laugh at her attempts to tell you norwegian jokes that she refused to translate into a language you’d understand.

a comfortable silence fell between the two of you, something which had become a common occurrence, both of your cheeks slightly sore from the smile you’d been wearing on your face since ingrid asked you out to dinner at training. 

“your lips are so pretty” you quickly said, your eyes soon widening and your cheeks turning red as you realised the tipsy side of you had grown very confident, “ignore that, i’m sorry that was stupid”.

you just watched as a smile appeared on ingrid's face in response, her hand coming up to as her chin rested on it, her eyes switching from a sweet and appearingly innocent ingrid to a more seductive version of herself. she leaned forward ever so slightly causing your breath to hitch as you were reminded of the slight show of skin that had been driving you crazy all night. 

“are you flirting with me?” she questioned, her tongue flicking over her lip before she cocked her head to the side with a seductive grin. 

“w-what no!” you were taken aback by the directness of her words, “it’s not like i’ve fantasized about you or anything, we are just friends”, at this point you were lying straight through your teeth. of course you had fantasized about her, you had been constantly doing it throughout the meal.

“you literally just said i had nice lips, who says that to a friend?” she disputed, her grin turning into a smirk as she reminded you of her words, she waited for your response for a few seconds but every time you opened your mouth, words failed to come out. 

“don’t lie to me elskling, i see how you look at me, or how you purposefully move closer when we are sat next to eat other” as she spoke you felt your cheeks heating up further as your brain tried to think of an excuse for everything she listed, “you’ve literally been staring at my tits since i look my jacket off, you think i don’t notice?”.

“i-i uh um okay so? maybe i do have a few feelings for you and yes maybe i do all those things and maybe i have dreamt about kissing you but is that weird? probably yes but don’t all people have those thoughts about their friends? probably not but-” ingrid quickly cut off your rambling. 

“if you don’t make a move, i happily will” she said abruptly.

“what? are you joking with me” you were taken aback by her statement. 

“i wouldn’t joke about this, you heard what i said” her face was now fully serious, it was still soft and calm, but you could tell she wasn’t joking.

“okay, i—” you cut yourself off. there was no need to overthink this anymore, it was really happening. ingrid had given you an opening, and there was no turning back now, you gave her a small but confirming nod signalling your intention. 

she leaned over the table, her hand finding your jaw as her thumb brushed across your cheek gently. your eyes closed at the touch, instantly relaxing into her as your previous dishelived state disappeared. you felt her presence get closer as her lips ghosted yours, feeling so far yet only being a whisper away. a wave of courage overtook you as you leant forward, closing what was left of the innocent space between the two of you. 

it wasn’t intense, messy or rushed, it was soft, controlled and tentative. you felt yourself unravel against her lips as you further relaxed into her touch. your lips moved in sync as the kiss deepened ever so slightly, your hand reaching up to reach the back of her neck, pulling her into you ever so slightly. it felt like hours, being completely shut off to the world around you as your lips connected with the girl across from you yet it was only seconds before the both of you pulled away, fully aware of the public space that surrounded you. 

when the kiss finally ended, you both pulled back, slightly breathless but eyes still locked.

ingrid let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head slightly “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” her thumb caressing just under your bottom lip as some of her lipstick had transferred to you, before settling back into her seat. 

you couldn’t stop smiling, a mix of relief and happiness spreading through you “no, it wasn’t.”

“you could’ve just told me you have a massive crush on me” ingrid smirked. 

“the same goes for you, engen” you spoke, crossing your arms with a certain ounce of attitude you were yet to show ingrid, causing her to raise her eyebrows slightly at your newfound confidence, the wine still very much in your system. 

“maybe we can go back to yours?” she questioned, her intention clear on her face.

a grin appeared on your face, matching the energy of her seductive smirk, “i think we can make that work”.

with that she stood up and held her hand out to you, pulling you out of your chair and subsequently out of the restaurant and back to her car. the drive consisted of a very touchy ingrid, her hand rested on your thigh, moving up and down as she traced patterns whilst she drove. every red light had her leaning over for her lips to meet yours, savouring every kiss until the car was required to move again. 

unfortunately for the two of you, as you stepped into the elevator, so did one of your neighbors, meaning both of you had to do your best to control yourself in the public setting. ingrid’s hand rested on your back as the usually short elevator ride felt like it was taking years, your breath hitched as you felt her hand wander downwards, resting on the curve of your ass. 

you said a polite goodnight to your neighbour, with an innocent smile, as the two of you rushed down the hall to your apartment. fiddling with your keys it felt near impossible to find the right key to unlock your door, especially with the added pressure of ingrid pressing up against the back of you. you whined, full of general and sexual frustration.

ingrid reached to your hands, grabbing the keys off of you and quickly unlocking the door, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into your apartment. within seconds your back was against the door as ingrid looked down towards you, her eyes hungry with pure desire. 

“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to do this” she muttered, her lips finding their way back to yours as her hands gripped at your waist, allowing your hands to wrap around the back of her neck. 

you’d be lying if you said there was a fight for dominance, because there wasn’t, ingrid immediately took control, her tongue slipping into your mouth shortly being followed by her knee finding comfort between your thighs. as if it was second nature she guided your hips, painfully slow, back and forth across her leg as you felt the throbbing between your legs only grow. 

ingrid’s lips broke away from yours, one of her hands now coming up to your jaw as she tilted your head upwards allowing her more space to litter marks across your neck. you didn’t even try to hold back the sounds that were escaping your mouth, pure bliss in the form of moans, whines and asking ingrid for more. 

“i’ve barely started and you’re already so needy” she whispered into your ear, only pushing you further to that point of breaking underneath her to the point where you could only reply with a simple ‘please’. 

clearly happy with your please, she broke apart from your neck, taking your hand and leading you into your bedroom, an erotic grin plastered to her face as she pushed you onto the bed. you were in for a long night.

waking up to someone’s arms around you was unusual, but waking up to ingrid’s arms around you felt like home. her arm lay across your stomach as her head buried into the crook of your neck as her hair sprawled across the pillow the two of you shared. the sun creeped through the window, highlighting every perfect aspect of her face, her freckles glowed like small flecks of gold as the different shades of brown in her hair became more prominent. perfection. 

you reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she moved ever so slightly, pressing her body closer to yours.

how did it take a stupid ‘galetines’ date for you to finally get to this point. 

a/n - i tried proof reading but if i missed anything please let me know, spelling and grammar isn't my strong suit xo