The Whisperer

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unconventional | masterlist

pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Reader

summary: HeroExpo is incredible, and that’s not even counting the really cute hero fanboy you just met. Well, you think he might be cute under that Deku cosplay. It’s hard to tell because it’s really, really good. Like, too good.

length: 21,000 words | 6 chapters

tags: romance, pro hero au, misunderstandings, conventions/fandom culture

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

chapter links:

one

two

three

four

five

six

cross posted on ao3: here

EDIT: Now with art by the deeply talented absolutely lovely @volatilematters​

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO HAS LOVED YOU SINCE YOU WERE KIDS - HE’S GONNA MAKE YOU HIS ! ❞

✧ series: call it what you want (part one)

✧ pairing: younger!satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and now, in his twenties, when he sees you again after you move back to be closer to your aunt and your cousin, suguru, he knows — he has to make you his by the end of the summer.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, eventual smut, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, gojo is four years younger than you, rich boy!gojo, suguru is your little cousin, very fluffy, slow burn, like they don't even kiss, but they will :), love at first sight for gojo, naoya is your ex,

✧ w/c: 15,285

“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Satoru muttered in your ear, breath fanning hot against your neck, “be a little quieter, sweetheart, otherwise Suguru might hear us,” 

You whine, but his fingers drag against your kiss bitten lips, until the digits slide into your mouth, as his hips rut against yours. And you didn’t think you’d ever be in position with your cousin’s best friend — pressed to the doorway of your apartment where Suguru could walk in at anytime. 

This isn't what you thought would happen when you invited him over to talk. This isn't what you thought would happen when you agreed to pretend to date him. This isn't what you thought about -- but how could you think about anything with the way his breath felt against your skin?

He loved you -- loved you since you were kids, and he couldn't let you go, not like this. Not when he had you.

Not that you even wanted him to.

You didn’t think you’d shiver as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck, tongue flicking against your burning skin. You never thought you’d want to moan his name, like you had, far too many times. 

“You may have never thought about this, Princess, but I sure have,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, the wet sounds your skin slapping together, as he reaches around your body, pinned on your stomach to the mattress, to rub at your swollen clit, drawing a muffled cry from your lips, “far too many times,” 

In fact, Satoru Gojo knew exactly the first time he fell for you. It was the day he first met you. 

“Be my girlfriend!” 

It was less of a question and more of a statement.  

One declared in the doorway of your room, with flushed cheeks and flowers in hand. And they weren’t your cheeks or hands, but your baby cousin’s best friend. 

The first time Satoru Gojo asked you out was at the ripe old age of eleven, but truth be told he had held this crush since the moment he saw you when he had come over to Suguru’s house for the first time, almost three years ago now.

Your fingers brushed his as you gently took the flowers, “Satoru, you know I care about you, but not like that. You’re better off seeing other people your own age, ok?” You smiled at him, the same way you always did, a slight pout on his lips as he nodded, saying nothing more. 

And you knew you were right — there was no fucking question that you were right. He was eleven and you were fifteen — an age gap untenable and unreachable.

But now—

“Long time no see,” Satoru said, lips curled in an all too cocky smile that you couldn’t believe belonged to the same blushing kid who confessed so earnestly back then, “it’s been too long,” your name rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that was the same but all too different. 

But he wasn’t a kid anymore — far from it. It had been over a decade since you had seen him, as the summer he confessed was the last one you had spent at your aunt and uncle’s home. And you and your family moved overseas shortly after that, and you didn’t return until now, four years after you graduated college, for a job offer you couldn’t pass up. 

And you didn’t realize that so much time had passed. 

But he did. 

“Eh? What do you mean you can’t help me unpack today, Sugu?” you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, as you rip open the tape on yet another box you had hauled into the proper room to unpack, “you told me—“ 

“I told you I’d help you unpack if I had time. But now, I’m stuck at work until the evening,” you heard your cousin sigh over the phone, “But don’t worry — you’ll have help—“ 

You’re too busy trying to rip the tape off as you rip into Suguru to notice the door creaking open behind you, “Suguru, I swear to god if you’re sending a total random stranger to help me—“ 

“Not a total stranger,” a voice says behind you, and your head whips around so quick, you nearly drop your phone, gripping it, “unless not seeing me for years makes me one,” 

A mess of white locks and sunglasses tilted downward to reveal a hint of his cerulean eyes that you could never forget — but still, you barely recognize the man that has them. Even if the grin on his lips with the lilting sound of his voice told you that he very much recognized you. 

“Satoru?” Suguru’s explanation falls on deaf ears, as Satoru’s eyes don’t bother to take in your new place, all too focused on you, hands slipping into his pockets, “you—“ 

He steps forward and plucks the phone from your fingers, “Yo Suguru, I told you it’d be better as a surprise,” and you gape at him, as his grin curls wider, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t take the phone to have you lecturing me — I get enough of that from my dad,” and Suguru says something that makes Satoru’s cheeks flush, and he hangs up, before his attention returns to you, “so, shall we unpack?” 

A few minutes turns into hours of hauling boxes inside and then unpacking them. It’s relatively silent, surprisingly for Satoru. The silence was a far cry from the boy who couldn’t shut up for two seconds, telling you about the test he aced or something stupid that one of his classmates said or asking you about your day. 

Instead you watch him haul boxes like they were filled with styrofoam and air from the truck outside, and then lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, a flash of his abs shiny with perspiration. Your eyes dart away, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the contents of this box of kitchenware you opened up, cheeks burning, wondering when did the little boy you looked after become a man? 

“Princess, where do you want this?” Satoru lifts a box, and you can’t see the writing on it from the angle he picks it up. 

“Do you still have to call me Princess?” The embarrassing nickname your aunt had given you still stuck — the one that Suguru would always tease you with, while Satoru’s decidedly lacked any malice, “my aunt only called me that because she wanted a girl so bad,” 

“Is that why Suguru is growing out his hair now? Trying to fulfill her dreams?” You snort, as you walk over to him, “it still fits you regardless of the reason Princess,” 

You’re close, even with the box providing glancing around the box until you find it scrawled on the box underneath his arm — his very…muscular arm, veins bulging and muscles tense underneath the weight of the box—

“So this is stuff for my bedroom, you can just leave it on the floor, it’s right over here,” you lead him over and he places down the box, “I think that’s mostly it, I’m sorry Suguru made you come down here to help,” 

“You don’t need to apologize, I wanted to see you,” and you smile softly, “it’s been too long,” 

“It really has,” and your neck strains a little with how he towered over you, “can't believe you’re the same little boy I used to babysit,” 

And he rolls his eyes, “Suguru would say it’s arguable I could still use a babysitter,” and you chuckle, “I’m not so little anymore, but I wouldn’t mind if you were my babysitter,” 

Was he? No. No, he wasn’t. 

Right? 

“Stop fucking around,” you shake your head, as you head into the kitchen, “do you want to wash up, and then maybe I’ll order take out to thank you?” You’re turning on the faucet. 

You don’t notice the slight pout on his lips, one he schools into a smile as you glance back at him, blinking as you find him shirtless. 

Fuck. How was it possible for a person to be this gorgeous? Sweat slid down his body, slipping between the dips of his chest and ridges of his abs until disappearing into the fabric of his pants, or somewhere hidden— 

You look away — “I’d rather take a shower. Do you mind?” And you force your voice not to come out a squeak, busying yourself with washing your hands, just so you don’t have to look. 

“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is just around the corner. There should already be fresh towels inside,” and yet his steps grow closer, as you glance back, “uh—“ 

He’s still fucking shirtless. 

“Instead of take out, can we grab dinner somewhere? You haven’t been back to the area recently so it’s a good chance to show you around,” 

“You really don’t have to—“ 

“I want to, Princess,” he cuts you off, reaching around you to grab a water bottle off the counter, “get ready while I clean up?” 

And you bite your lip, “Okay, okay,” and he grins back, a glimpse of the little boy that beams at you when you’d praise him for a high mark on a test. 

“It’s a date!” And he’s off, disappearing into the bathroom, and you’re left there, wondering — what had you gotten yourself into? 

~~~

“So,” Satoru lifts a spoonful of his dessert — a fruit parfait with a sugar coma inducing amount of whipped cream — and you were almost relieved to see some things about him hadn’t changed. How many times had you scolded him as a kid not to eat so much sugar — and he still hasn’t kicked the habit. You bit back your chuckle, as he spoke, “did you get dumped?” 

You almost choke on your drink, as you splutter for a moment, before glaring at him. 

And yet the more they stayed the same. 

“I see you’re as subtle as you were when you were 11,” you mutter, setting your drink down, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. Satoru tilts his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“So you dumped him?” He leans back, “I didn’t know you had such high standards,” your cheeks burn, distracting yourself with becoming enthralled in the menu — Satoru had dragged you to a hole in the wall barbecue place (after your insistence that you didn’t want anything fancy after unpacking for hours). 

“How did you know I broke—“ and you cut yourself off at the obviousness of the answer, slapping another piece of meat on the grill, the sizzle punctuated by your words, “I’m going to murder him,” 

“Well, you’re in the right place to dispose of his body,” Satoru licks the spoon clean, before sticking it back in the whipped cream, “why did you break up with him?” 

You shrugged, “I realized he was a narcissistic prick who only wanted me as a trophy,” and Satoru whistled lowly,  “I’m done with dating losers. And dating in general,” 

“I don’t think you should give up on dating just because you had a few bad experiences,” his voice grows soft, “you deserve to be happy and taken care of, even if you have bad taste,” 

And you pout, “I don’t have-“ and he tilts his head, and you lift a few pieces of meat from the grill onto your plate, tongs clattering slightly as you set it down, “fuck, I do,” you groan, shaking your head, “that’s why I had to get out of there. Just needed a fresh start you know?” 

“Sometimes that’s just what you need,” and your lips curl. 

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and his eyes flit up to yours, gleaming in the low light of the restaurant, cerulean irises catching the drops of light like comets across his gaze. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Princess,” he busies himself with his parfait, and you scoff. 

“Come on, half the girls in this place are glaring at me while I sit here, the waitress has been flirting with you, and now they had brought you out the biggest dessert that I’m starting to wonder if they even serve it here,” he spares a glance around, several gasps from giggling girls who avert their gazes, before his eyes are back on you. 

“Jealous?” You roll your eyes — he wasn’t lacking for ego at least. 

“More like wondering what a guy like you is still doing single,” and he sighs, leaning back, with a tilt of his head. 

“You sure are curious about me,” and his gaze softens for a moment, while he picks at his dessert, scooping the strawberry off the top, “there’s only really been one person that I really wanted,” his tone grew more serious, lips in a bittersweet smile, “but she’s never really looked me like that,” 

“Don’t tell me it’s one of those things where she rejected you and you have to have her now,” and he chuckles, shaking his head, gaze far too wistful. 

His words are slow, as slow as the ice melting in your glass, “It’s more of if I don’t have her, I don’t want anyone else,” and your heart squeezed — would you ever have someone care so deeply for you? 

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” you picked up another piece of meat off the grill, “anyone would be lucky to be with you,” and you meant it — he was blunt, but also kind, sweet, not to mention rich and you flushed as you thought back to his hiked up shirt — good looking. 

But he only stares back at you, tilting his head — expression unreadable, an emotion you can’t grasp before it’s hidden under his gaze’s tempered waters, “Are you included, Princess?” 

There’s a pause, as you almost chuckle, but your laugh dying in your throat at his expression — that same smirk, but the way he looks at you stops your mind in its tracks — only one word rolling around in your head: what? 

And your brow furrows, your lips parting in a response you don’t have — only questions, ones you don’t get to ask as Suguru slides in beside you. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” Suguru sighs, the moment broken, and you don’t catch Satoru’s expression, too distracted by your cousin, “got stuck in a staff meeting,” 

“I told you academia is hell,” you elbow him, and Suguru rolls his eyes, as he shrugs off his suit coat, “were these meetings the reasons you got held up or are they just an excuse so you didn’t have to help me?” 

“Who said it can’t be both?” And he earns a smack to his shoulder, your attention turning back to Satoru, his gaze fixed outside. 

“You’re unusually quiet, Satoru” Suguru kicks him lightly under the table, “not like you,” 

He looks at you first — and you grasp the emotion he had hid before — what was it? Sadness? Longing? — right before it’s gone again as he slides his mask back on, grinning as he always does. 

“What can I say? The view outside is much better than your ugly mug,” and the two of them begin to bicker, and you lean back in your seat, a smile pulling at your lips, even as you glanced back at Satoru. 

And now you wondered if you would ever get an answer to your questions. Or maybe, you sipped your drink, it was better not to have it answered at all. 

~~~

Satoru Gojo was eleven years old when he fell in love with you. It was from the moment he met you. 

And there hasn’t been anyone else since. 

He supposed it was inevitable in a way — since Suguru was his best friend, and his first, and when his family finally decided to enroll him in school, instead opting for private tutors, for the social aspect of making connections, of course. Because what else was your eleven year old son good for then helping to make future business deals easier? 

But Satoru made friends with the one person who couldn’t help their deals — Suguru Geto, one of the only scholarship students in the entire school. And Satoru’s want to avoid spending his days with servants or on the rare occasion, dealing with his dad’s lecture for getting in another ‘disagreement’ with one of his classmates (that ended with that classmate crying after Satoru evaded his punch and kicked him in the shin), ended up with him at Suguru’s place. A lot. 

Then soon enough, he was spending most of his summers there too. And that’s when he saw you. 

“You said your cousin’s here? Is she nice?” Satoru asked, taking off his shoes, as Suguru shut the door behind them. 

“She is, except when she’s being a pain about homework. And when she gets mad, she reminds me of my mom,” Suguru grimaced, as he walked past him, calling out for you. You rounded the corner, book in hand, and Satoru’s eyes grew wide. 

“Hey Sugu, you brought a friend?” You walked over, still clad in your high school uniform, before introducing yourself, and offering him a warm smile, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Suguru’s cousin,” 

Satoru didn’t know what this feeling was — and he wouldn’t until a few more summers passed, and his hormones kicked in — but all he knew was that he would do anything to see you smile like that at him again. And he did — he would spend as much time as he could with you — talking to you about a test he aced, about something funny that happened at school, or even ratting on Suguru about what he was up to (earning him many knocks to the head by his best friend). But every time you smiled or laughed, it was worth it — worth every second he spent counting down the time to summer break so he could see you again. 

But he didn’t know his seconds would run out so soon — and he only learned one random day going home with Suguru, from a snippet of a conversation he had with his mom. 

“I know, I know she’s coming next week,” Satoru’s interest hadn’t been peaked by Suguru’s conversation until then, because he knew exactly who they were talking about. After all, you always came right at the start of break, and finally he could see you again — and maybe this time, he could tell you how he felt. 

“I know, I know it’s her last time here so it has to be perfect,” and Satoru’s head snapped back to Suguru, last time? “I will,” and Suguru hangs up, a sigh on his lips, “my mom is being so annoying about my cousin. So what it’s her last time staying with us? It doesn’t mean we have to—“ 

“What do you mean it’s her last time?” Satoru kept his tone steady and slow, even as his heart thrummed against his ribs as if it was a xylophone, “she always comes every summer—“ 

“Of high school,” Suguru corrected him, “she is applying to university this year — most of them are abroad, and it seems likely she won’t be back in Japan, not for a while,” Suguru continued to complain on their way back to his place, but all Satoru could do was think about you. 

It was your last summer with him. His last chance to make a move, to be something more than your younger cousin’s friend. His last chance to make you see him as a man, not a kid. 

He had to confess, his fingers curled into fists, before the end of the summer. He would make you his girlfriend — one way or another. 

And he did confess back then, Satoru thought, as he picked up a photo, wrinkled and yellowed at the corners, a picture that Suguru’s mom had taken of you and him the summer you had left. A candid of him and you looking at each other — one that Suguru’s mom had slipped to him with a knowing smile and a wink (one that had mortified him as a teenager). 

He was always looking at you — no matter where he was, his eyes always found your form, a magnet to its opposite pole, and he didn’t know how to stop you from drawing him in. It had been over a decade and he still couldn’t. 

He stared at your smiling face, the very same face that had looked at you with a smile fading to confusion this evening. He had gotten so close to asking you — to telling you how he felt — and he flips to the next picture, a scowl on his face as a picture of him and Suguru with his smug smile stared back at him. If only fucking Suguru hadn’t interrupted. 

He shook his head, flipping back to his picture of you. This wasn’t the summer and he wasn’t a kid anymore. And you weren’t out of his reach, bound for another country across the ocean. No, you were here — only a short drive away. 

And he made a promise to himself — he would get you to fall in love with him, before the end of this summer. 

~~~

You hate first days. 

“Did you see the guy waiting outside?” one woman whispered not so softly as you passed by. 

“Yeah looks like he’s waiting for her,” the other’s lips formed a frown but only to hide her smirk. 

From the time you were a kid, your first day of school was something you had all the time from your family moving around. You were always the new kid — the one who would be met with wide eyes and curiosity, only to be tossed aside a few days later. 

But this was a fresh start that you had wanted — a new job far away from where you had started, with new responsibilities — a first day you had looked forward to, until it went so downhill. 

And it was all your ex’s fault. 

You texted Suguru — is it too early to quit on the first day? 

He replies, well it’s been four hours, think you’ve lasted through one of my dad’s long winded stories longer than that. What happened? 

You glanced outside towards the front of the building. It was more like ‘who happened?’ 

It was an innocuous enough morning, of introductions, trainings, orientation, and finally computer set up. You were rifling through your paperwork, trying to figure out what sheet looked the least daunting when someone called for you. 

“There’s someone looking for you outside the lobby,” you saw a flurry of looks shared and smirks shot in your direction, and when you arrived downstairs you knew why. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You couldn’t help it. You bursted outside, “what are you doing here?” It was your ex — the very same ex who had started at the same overseas company after you both graduated and the one you had. And again, had chosen to follow you here. 

“Waiting for you to change yer mind,” Naoya tilts his head, hands in his pocket, “and I know you will, because you love me,” he raises his voice to catch the eye of several passerby, and you grab his wrist, dragging him away. 

“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath, “I told you it’s over, and don’t you have a fucking job?” 

“Did you forget? I’m rich, another reason ya can’t do better than me,” Naoya’s lips curl into that same grin, one you knew as charming once, until you saw past his pretty pink lips and glimpsed the sharp fangs behind them, “I took time off. Did ya think it was a coincidence we ended up at the same company?” 

You gritted your teeth, “Naoya—“ and he breaks from your grip, instead his fingers dig into your wrist. 

“All ya are is me. All that you have is me. And all you will have is me,” he dared closer, breath warming your lips, as he took hold of your other wrist and tugged you close, “the sooner you accept that, the better, doll,” 

‘Doll.’ The term of endearment you had seen as precious to you. Something you always loved to hear roll off his tongue, the word you had learned to learned to reply to, even more than your own name. The one you regarded with such love had burned, burned until the flames licked your skin and knew what it really meant — a doll with strings, one he was meant to be the master of. 

“Don’t call me that,” you rip your hands away, “leave. You’re embarrassing yourself,” 

“Am I?” He tilts his head, jerking his head in the direction of your building where your offices had a clear view of this, “or am I just embarrassing you?” 

You stared out the window for a moment and you knew he was still out there — judging but the way your phone was on the verge of suicide by notification, he was still very much there. And now, all people would know of you is the new worker with a crazy stalker ex. 

I’m calling the police, Suguru’s text popped up, what’s your workplace’s address? 

You think I hadn’t thought of that, Sugu? You sigh, he’s not doing anything. He’s on a public sidewalk. They can’t do anything to him. 

Another text: when do you get out? You glance at the time, seeing another two coworkers whisper to each other, stealing looks. 

An eternity — In another two hours. 

I’ll handle it. Just wait in the lobby after work. And you frown. 

Sugu, I can handle it. I don’t need you to come down here. 

You always fought your battles. You didn’t need anything else to — or anyone else to pick them for you. Not even your baby cousin — no matter how sweet his intentions were. 

Don’t worry. I’m not coming down. And you frown, staring at the text, before your phone rings, and you groan as ‘Assistant Director’ flashes on the screen.  

You were so fired. 

You weren’t — as you shut the door of his office behind you. However, he did advise you that this company had a strict no nonsense policy and did want personal drama to be dredged up in the office. And you were given the day to sort out your “mess.” 

You scrub a hand down your face, but it wasn’t even your mess, and how would you fix it? He wasn’t going to listen to you. You sit at your desk, packing up your bag for the day. And your phone vibrates. 

Come down. 

You hesitate, But he’s still downstairs. 

Just go. 

Fuck. You sling your bag over your shoulder, piercing eyes digging into your back, vultures circling an already dead carcass, whispering still even as the elevators doors shut. 

And you almost wish they never opened when you see what’s waiting for you outside. 

Fuck. 

You grit your teeth, stomach in absolute knots as if to brace yourself for the complete shitstorm you’re about to deal with. 

“Satoru?” 

Satoru Gojo leaned back against his expensive (likely imported) car, shiny as it was new, sunglasses glinting in the light, but not brighter than the grin he gives you. He holds out your favorite drink, a tilt of his head. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

You glance around, as he places the drink in your hand, “But what about—“

“Let go of me!” 

Satoru’s lips curl, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Oh, I’ve gotten him handled,” 

Naoya stood between two men restraining him, both in suits, as his face contorted in anger, veins bulging, eyes darting between the two of you, “Do you know who I am? I’m the heir to the Zenin Corporation — you cannot treat me like this. I’ll have you—“ 

“Heir? Really?” Satoru stepped forward, blocking him from your view, “is that right? I thought the Zenin hadn’t decided announced a successor yet,” 

You furrow your brow — how does Satoru— but then you’re being put into a car with Satoru’s arm curled around your waist, as he opens the door and tucks you into the passenger seat. 

And now you won’t know. At least not now. 

Naoya scoffed, “And who are you to know anything about—“ 

“Have you heard of the Six Eyes Corp,” and Naoya’s eyes narrow, “you should have because we account for a large chunk of your business. And if that support were to disappear,” he flashes his blue eyes at him over the rim of his sunglasses, “I’d hate to tell them it’s because of this,” 

“You fucking liar, like you could tell anyone anything—“ 

Satoru chuckles, “You’re right, I am a liar,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I don’t need to tell anyone. Except my father,” 

Naoya’s sneer fades into confusion, his eyes narrowed, “Don’t fucking tell me—” 

“Then I won’t,” he steps forward, hands slipping into his pockets, “but if you ever step in her presence again,” he jerks his head towards you in his car, “then I will, and you don’t wanna know what happens if I do,” he steps in front of Naoya, back blocking your view so you don’t see him grab Naoya’s wrist, blue eyes aflame with something far deeper than anger, “because it will much worse,” he squeezes Naoya’s wrist hard making him flinch as he grits his teeth at Satoru’s smiling face, “who knows? Maybe I’ll break your wrist next time.” 

He turns around, waving off the guards, as he makes his way back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat, smile fading to concern. 

“Are you alright, Princess?” You’re watching those people drag Naoya away, his hateful gaze trying and failing to get a last look at you as the guard takes a hand to the back of his head to force his gaze forward. 

“Where are they taking him?” 

Satoru starts the car, the quiet rumble of the engine filling the silence of his pause, “just to the proper authorities. He won’t bother you again,” 

You bit your bottom lip, eyes burning with tears — and you don’t know whether if it’s embarrassment or relief, “I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” and your eyes slide to his, a soft smile on his lips, “you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Or to thank me for,” he cuts you off as your lips part, “is your wrist okay?” 

You glance down and see the slight redness still lingered, a final parting gift, and your other hand closes over the wrist, “it hurts a little, but I’ll ice it when I get home,” 

“We’ll go to a hospital to have it looked at,” and you’re shaking your head. 

“I don’t want to sit—“ 

“Then I’ll hire a doctor to come see you,” and you stare at him, as he rolls to a stop at a red light…is that a pout? “I just want you to be ok, Princess, please,” 

You bite back a small smile, and ignore the flutter in your heart, “Fine, you win, let’s go to a walk-in clinic,” and you spot his shoulders relax, “but it’s not really fair when you give me your infamous pout,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “‘Infamous?’” 

“You used to whip that out all the time on me and on my aunt when you were a kid — it did always work,” 

“Not always,” he replies, as he turns into the parking for the walk-in clinic, “in fact, I remember a time that it specifically did not work,” 

“And when was that?” You tilt your head. 

And he smiles, “When I asked you to be my girlfriend,” and you furrow your brow, nearly forgetting the memory, until it hits you. 

“Oh my god, the last summer I spent here,” you covered your mouth with the tips of your fingers, a chuckle on your lips, “you were very direct,” 

“I could say the same about you,” and you roll your eyes. 

“You were a kid. You were way too young for me, you know that,” you unbuckle your seatbelt, “plus now I bet you could get any person you want. That’s why I was surprised why you didn’t have a girlfriend,”

“Like I said, there’s only one woman in the world for me,” his eyes find yours, cerulean bathed in sunlight, light catching across his irises, “and only one woman I ever wanted to be with,”

Oh. 

Oh. 

No, no, that couldn’t be it — you couldn’t be her, not after all this time—

You blink, “Satoru, you don’t—“ 

“Well our age difference isn’t a problem anymore is it?” Your brain is struggling to process, lips parting with no words, “Princess,” his fingers brush yours, gently grazing your hand, as your gaze finds his again, “when are you going to take me seriously?” 

“Satoru—“ 

“Just don’t say no,” Satoru cuts you off, pulling his hand away, “don’t say no and think about it,” you open your mouth only to waver at the sight of the pout on his lips and you sigh. 

It was hard to say no, especially right now. 

“Okay I won’t say no,” you slip from the car, lips breaking into a wide grin, before sticking your head inside, “don’t smile like that. It’s not a yes,” you huff, cheeks burning and stomach erupting in butterflies. 

“Not yet,” Satoru says as you shut the door, “not yet, Princess.” 

~~~

“Huh? You did what?” 

You loved your aunt. You really did. She and her husband had taken you in when your parents were too busy working to properly take care of you during the summers. But times like this reminded you—

—-she truly was her mother’s sister. 

“Well your mother was telling me that you haven’t dated anyone since you’ve been back—“ 

“It's only been a month!” You had barely finished getting unpacked, and in fact, you still had at least five boxes still stacked up in the closet, “I’m not interested in dating, I’m trying to focus on work,” you rubbed the back of your head, “new topic, please,” as you sip on your drink. 

And after the debacle Naoya had caused, you needed to — you had put up with the whispers and stares for a few days, but since Naoya had stayed away, the rumors faded with time. Now things had died down for the most part. Except for—

“Has Satoru still been picking you up?” You nearly do a spit take, but instead you choke down the water, coughing, “eh? Are you okay, honey?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” your cheeks burn at the thought of Satoru — he was always a bold kid, but you didn’t think he’d confess to being in love with you all this time. Especially now as a man — and not a kid, “yeah he’s still picking me up,” 

When he had confessed to you all those years ago as a young teenager, you had thought nothing of it. Except that it was a crush on his best friend’s older cousin — something that would pass easily with time. You hadn’t even thought of it in all these years. 

But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Especially when he kept showing up to pick you up from work. And now you were stirring other sorts of rumors. 

After he had taken you to the walk-in clinic, he had driven you home, making sure to check if your place was secure enough, and that you weren’t too shaken up. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off to Suguru’s?” he had asked, crossing his arms, “I could also drag his ass here, he owes me anyway,” 

“No, no I’m really fine,” you chewed your lip, looking down, “you sure he’s not going to come back?” and he leans down, forcing you to meet his gaze, as he tilts his head. 

“Sweetheart, you think I’d even leave your place if I thought there was a chance of him coming back?” he offers you a smile, and you scoff softly, shaking your head, “trust me, he won’t be bothering you again, not while I’m around,” and he added, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 

And you didn’t know what to do with the promise in his words. Because you knew he meant that — in more than one way. 

But even so, he hadn’t brought up his confession — not once. 

“He’s so sweet isn’t he? Suguru is always so busy but Satoru’s making time to pick you instead,” your aunt gushes, and you shake your head, your aunt did have a habit of being a little hard on her son, “by the way, would you mind stopping by the house today?” 

“Why’s that?” 

And well, how did you end up here? 

You stood in front of the entrance to a very expensive looking building with a very intimidating doorman, with a large tote bag full of food that your aunt had insisted you drop off. She had given you his address, but by the time you arrived, you realized that you didn’t even have his number. And now Suguru or your aunt weren’t picking up their phones. 

Fuck. 

You were internally debating whether to talk to the doorman or to just go home and deal with this another time, when you heard someone speak behind you. 

“Looking for someone?” You jump slightly, whirling when you see Satoru, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he lifts his sunglasses to meet your gaze, “didn’t think I’d find you hanging outside my apartment building, princess,” 

“Well, you show up outside my workplace and I’ll be showing up outside your apartment building,” the words leave your mouth without much thought, as your cheeks burn at the implication, “I mean—” 

“Is that supposed to discourage me from picking you up?” he grins, “Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” 

You roll your eyes, before holding up the bag, “My aunt asked me to drop off some dishes for you. She’s worried you’re eating too many sweets,” 

He takes the bag from your hand, fingers brushing, as he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have ever told her that I had cake for dinner,” and you snort, unable to hide your giggles, “what’s so funny?” 

“I can see a lot about you has changed, but your sweet tooth is just as bad as when you were a kid,” and you see him scratch the back of his head, “is your favorite dessert still mochi?” 

“You still remember that about me?” A smile pulling at his lips, and your cheeks burn, but you refuse to waver. 

“Well, it’s hard to forget you threw up all over the rug when you ate too many,” You bite back a smile when you spot the tips of his ears burn red, as he gapes at you. 

“Did you have to bring that up?” He mutters, a small pout on his lips, and you snort, as he can’t help the curl of his lips, “now, c’mon,” his fingers brush the small of your back. 

“Satoru, where—“ but his hand is firm as he guides you towards his building. 

He flashes you a grin as he signs you in with the doorman, “Do you think I’d let you come all this way without staying for dinner?” 

~~~

“Do you want anything to drink?” Satoru’s penthouse was nothing less than immaculate — high ceilings, pristine floors, and an interior designed living space. You swore in some places it was still shiny — and you felt very out of place in your casual wear for the weekend. 

“Just a water,” you reply, as he opens his refrigerator and you raise an eyebrow at the fully stocked compartments, “wow,” you murmur, and he’s pulling a water and a fancy looking juice out of it. 

“What was that?” He raises a brow, and you stammer a moment, “c’mon princess, share with the class,” 

“Just surprised your refrigerator isn’t just stuffed with just desserts, sweets, and ice cream,” and he hands you your water, before sitting beside you, spread out on the couch, as he always was. 

“Oh it is, it’s just very well hidden,” and you snort, as he throws his arm over the back of the couch, “I may be an adult but I’m not going to be a boring old geezer like my father,” 

“I don’t think I could ever see you becoming boring, Satoru,” you chuckle, and he tilts his head. 

“Is that a rare compliment from you, princess?” And his grin only makes your cheeks warm, as you roll your eyes.

“More like an observation,” you reply, as your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to check — who would be messaging you now? 

Oh fuck. 

“You ok there?” 

No, no you weren’t. Because your lovely aunt had given your number to a prospective match, and now he was texting you. A lot. 

“It’s nothing,” you sigh, shaking your head, putting your phone on ‘do not disturb.” You would have dinner first, and then you’d murder your aunt after dessert, “do you want me to help take out dinner?” 

“You expect me to believe you don’t hire a chef to make these sides?” The food was spread out across the table, many of the dishes your aunt had made plated and presented, but along with sides that Satoru had made, “Suguru had made it seem as if the only thing you ever made was microwave ramen,” 

“Well jokes on him, I burned it the one time I tried,” he grinned, “but I did learn to cook, I just never bothered to cook for Suguru,” 

“And why’s that?” You take a bite of the pickled radish he had prepared. 

“Because I’m not trying to impress him, am I?” And you nearly choke slightly, as you manage to swallow, “you should know I’m so much more than a pretty face, Princess,” 

You sigh, “Satoru—“

“Have you thought about what I said at all?” 

And you had. A lot more than you cared to admit. Especially after all he had done. Everything he had to Naoya to defend you. And just about him — how sweet he’s been, how protective, how kind, and how you’d like nothing more than to do the same for him—

But…

“I have, but Satoru, our ages—“ 

“We’re both adults. We both graduated. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade,” his leg brushes yours as he shifts closer, “are you telling me you don’t feel anything?” 

You didn’t know how to answer that — not when you didn’t really know yourself. And you always knew the answer — you knew you wanted to study abroad, you knew you had to leave Naoya’s company, and you knew you wanted to live here — so why was this the one time you didn’t? And why was he the one thing you were unsure of? 

You bite your bottom lip, “But, Suguru—“ and he scoffs softly. 

“Are you really thinking about Suguru right now?” he asks, “or would you rather date the guy blowing up your phone earlier?” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “How did you know—“ 

“Well I know it’s not Naoya, and I heard from Suguru that your aunt wanted to set you up,” fucking Suguru—and your lips twist into a pout, he tilts his head, not bothering to hide his smile, “if you dated me, you could get your aunt off your back,” he muses, leaning against his elbow, “she always did say I was family, and I’m not looking to be your brother,” 

Your cheeks burn at his words, “Satoru,”

“Think about it, Princess, you don’t have to give me an answer now,” but his eyes flicker to your phone, “but I know you’ll find me once you meet any one of these guys your aunt sets you up with,” 

You grimace at your phone, picking it up to see the messages from the guy your aunt had given your number to, “fuck,” you murmur, locking your phone before tossing it away, an image of you trapped at a dinner across the most boring man alive. And then you glance up at Satoru, still a smug smile on his lips, and then back to your phone. 

“What’s your plan?” 

~~~

“So, I heard you turned down the boy I gave your number to,” 

Your aunt hardly pulled punches. 

She never did when you and Suguru were growing up — she always knew what the two of you got up to, even if you were both sure she could never find out — she always did. Even the one time that the two of you had snuck out to get ramen on a late night, Suguru’s parents were in a dead sleep — but by the time you both snuck back in, she was waiting for both of you in the hallway. But this time, she wasn’t even leading with a wind-up before swinging. 

And then she adds, eyes narrowing, “He said you declined because you’re dating someone,” 

She was going for the kill. 

She turns to grab the whistling tea kettle, turning it off, before pouring the hot water into two cups. You force yourself not to bite your bottom lip, the smallest tell was dangerous, even with her back turned, “Is there anything he didn’t tell you?” She’s placing the tea cups one by one on the tray, as if laying out her pieces on a board only to corner you. 

Your aunt frowns, “His mother told me,” great, even better — he was a momma’s boy, and now you were starting to wonder just how many bullets did you dodge,  “are you seeing someone?” 

You were beginning to regret this plan — and you don’t know why you let Satoru talk you into it. 

“You want me to do what?” You stared at Satoru as if he had suggested going diving with sharks, which is not far from what he was suggesting, “tell my aunt that we’re together. No way,” 

“Aw, am I that embarrassing to date, Princess?” And you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, for me,” and he’s tilting his head, “my aunt will immediately tell my uncle and Suguru — and I don’t know which one of them would kill you first,” your uncle wasn’t one for words or conflict, but he had a soft spot for you — and a fist for anyone that tried to come date you without his approval. 

“Eh? Doesn’t Uncle like me?” And you snort, the one sided conversations that Satoru had with your uncle that usually ended with your uncle excusing himself to get away from that “annoying moron.” 

“He doesn’t hate you but,” you choose your words carefully, “he doesn’t prefer you,” 

Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms, “Well Auntie loves me, and I had a plan for this,” and she did, she had quite the soft spot for Satoru, ever since he was a kid. You couldn’t exactly blame her — he looked like an angel, even if the words that left his mouth made it seem like the contrary, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair, “and soon I’ll make you love me too,” 

Fucking cocky bastard, you thought to yourself, cheeks burning at the thought of the smirk on his lips, but you’re jarred back to reality as you hear the clattering of cups and spoons.  

“I am,” you reply, and your aunt’s head whips around, the clinking of the glasses cutting through the pause, “it’s new,” you add, as she sets down the tea cups, placing the tea dispensers in each one, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” 

“Why wouldn’t you? This is wonderful,” she blinked, and her brow wrinkles, “unless it’s that Naoya—“ you flinch at the thought of him. 

“No, I’m done with him,” you wave her off quickly, wrinkling your nose at the thought of that bastard, grabbing the tea cup, the scent of green tea wafting from the steam that warmed your face, as you blew air to cool it off, “it’s someone I reconnected with here,” 

Your aunt raises an eyebrow, “So soon? Is it someone from work?” Again, is the word she implies with the sentence, a sharp tone that nicked your armor. 

“No, it isn’t,” and she’s sipping her tea, and you take a sip only to burn your tongue, “but he is younger,” 

“That’s not a problem if he’s not too much younger — how old is he?” and this was exactly why you hadn’t wanted to tell your aunt, it was more of an interrogation than a conversation. 

“He’s about Suguru’s age,” and she’s tilting her head, “Suguru introduced us,” and that wasn’t a lie — it was true — both in the past and now. 

“Really? And Sugu is okay with you dating his friend?” Your aunt may be gossip and a meddler, but she wasn’t a fool, your hesitation is your end, “and I assume you’re telling me all this to get me off your case and to ask not to tell Suguru,” she sighs. 

“Auntie—“ 

“You know I don’t like lying for either of you—“ 

“But—“ 

“No, I can’t—“ 

“How about lying for me?” Satoru stands in the doorway, head tilted, a smile on his lips. And your aunt blinks before she slowly puts the puzzle pieces together, a mix of emotions crossing her expression — confusion, disbelief, and maybe a hint of joy, before she settled on a neutral 

“Satoru—“ 

He frowns, “Auntie, you know Suguru will kill me for dating his cousin, please,” and then he does what he does best — pouting. 

And your aunt breaks — with a one hit-KO. 

“You must have been blessed by some needlessly annoying god,” you murmur as he walks you back to your place, sun gleaming as it gave off its last rays of light before setting for the night,  “because I don’t know how you still get her to fall for that,” 

“I was born blessed,” and you snort, as you catch sight of his smile out of the corner of your eye, “and speaking of which, when’s our first date?” 

“Straight to the point, huh?” You stop walking, hands in your pockets, “Satoru—“ 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to launch into another speech about how you can’t date me,” he gives an exaggerated sigh, “I could go back to your aunt and tell her how you broke my heart and let her pull out list of aunties who have sons who are excited to meet you—“ 

“Alright, fine, a date, but one thing first,” you step close to him, making his breath catch, pretty blues finding your gaze, the very same he would love to get lost in, before they flicker down to your lips. And he swears you can probably hear his heart beating out of his chest, thumping at the bony bars of his ribcage, and he hates it, hates how you have him twisted around your finger without trying, “Princess—“ 

You reach for him, fingers nearly about to brush his cheek, his eyes fluttering, before you flick his forehead, “ow!” 

“I was just going to ask when our first date is going to be, but if you rather I go on a bunch of blind dates—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing his forehead all the same, “then do you have any ideas?” 

He grins, “Plenty, but there’s one in particular.” 

~~~~

“An amusement park?” 

He sat next to you, driving, hand on the console and you couldn’t help but brush your arm against his each time you moved — and you felt as if he did it on purpose. 

He raises an eyebrow, stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, “Uh-huh, got a problem, Princess?” 

“No I’m just surprised, we went to plenty of these as kids,” you glanced at him, his eyes concentrated on the road, fingers curling a little tighter around the steering wheel. 

You had raised an eyebrow at his choice, but now that you were here…it wasn’t a bad pick. 

You hadn’t been to one in years — not since your summers with Suguru. The screams in the distance told you there was a rollercoaster not far off, the syrupy sweetness of sugar somehow emanated from every inch of air, and the park was filled to the brim with families and couples. 

You glance at Satoru, a plain t-shirt and shorts, and somehow he still looked as if he stepped off a page of a men’s style magazine. He looked around, his eyes landing on a vendor selling cotton candy, and you hid your chuckle. 

“C’mon,” you took his hand, leading him over without a second thought, and you’re grabbing a giant cotton candy for him, made into a flower by the vendor. Satoru’s practically vibrating with excitement, slinking his hand around to sneak the vendor money before you even had a chance, “I wanted to pay—“ 

“You think I’d make my date pay?” He takes a bite out of his cotton candy, sugar sticking to his lips even as he nearly inhales a petal, “even the arranged set ups should do that much,” but it’s hard to take him seriously with blue sugar all over his mouth, “what?” 

You snort, grabbing a wet nap from your purse,“Well, you’d be surprised,” and you wipe his face, fingers cupping his chin, “some guys are a little immature,” and he stares back, and you swear you see a flush settle over his cheeks, before he turns away to wipe his lips. 

“Not me,” he mumbles, tips of his ears burning red, and you bite your bottom lip, cute. 

“Should we find a ride to go on?” he immediately grins at that, offering his arm this time, and you take it, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. 

~~~

Oh you were wrong. 

So wrong. 

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to get on,” and before you can leave a hand catches you by the wrist gently, blue eyes judging over his rimless sunglasses, “Satoru—“ 

“It’s just a rollercoaster,” just a rollercoaster? No, it was literally your death. You stared up at the contraption above you, the echoing screams growing louder as the line crept forward — akin to a rickety boat that Charon would wade you across into hell itself. 

“No, I can’t—“ you shake your head. 

“C’mon it won’t be that bad—“ 

“So you admit it’s going to be bad,” and he’s biting back a smile, “what?” 

“I just never really saw you being scared of anything, Princess,” he sighed loudly, “I guess I’ll have to ride it all alone,” but that only serves to make many women (and men) stare at him as if to offer him their company. 

“You have options,” and he shakes his head, his hand outstretched as the two of you enter the final stretch of the line. 

“Like I said, sweetheart, there’s only ever been one option for me,” and your fingers graze his with several second thoughts, but when his fingers laced with yours, you knew there was no turning back. 

“I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” 

You grinned at a shaken up Satoru, throat probably raw and aching as he frowns, face turned away, “I’m not used to the speed, unlike you, from how I heard you drive,” and you bite back a laugh, as he fails to hide his flush from you, his ears burning red. 

Your chuckle is a badly disguised cough, “Are you pretending to be this way to make me feel better?” You tease, and he’s crossing his arms. 

“No way I’d let myself look so lame in front of you, I’m no better than Ijichi,” and you raise an eyebrow. Ijichi was a boy in Suguru and Satoru’s class when they were kids — one that Satoru loved to complain about being slow. 

“You still think about him?”

“He’s my assistant,” and you snort at the thought of Satoru still hassling that poor guy. 

“I hope you pay him well,” he’s officially pouting again.

“I didn’t know it would be that intense!” you tilt your head, as the two of you find a corner of the park that’s not so crowded and riddled with children running amok, and you watch him down a sugary soda drink he had bought from one of the food stalls. 

“You act as if you’ve never been to an amusement park,” he’s quiet for a second too long, and your eyebrows knit together, “but Suguru—” 

“You guys would go every summer, but it was when I had my prep classes on the weekends,” he runs his fingers through his white locks, “I would have skipped when I was older, but by the time I had stopped caring what my father thought of me, you had already gone to college and Suguru’s family stopped going,” 

You frown — you knew Satoru didn’t have the best upbringing — yes he had every opportunity at his fingertips, all the money in the world that you couldn’t even fathom, but you could count the number of times he’s mentioned his parents on one hand. 

“I was always so jealous when you guys would go,” he sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “it seems silly now—” 

“No, it’s not,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “you should have been allowed to be a kid,” 

He chuckles, a noise that sticks in your chest, “Well, more than anything, I wanted to go with you,” his cerulean eyes find yours, a soft smile on his lips, “thank you for indulging me, princess,” 

“Well, you’re the one doing me a favor, right?” you tease, getting to your feet, “c’mon we have plenty of other things to do — I saw a booth with candy apples not too far over there—” you point, and his fingers are already finding yours as he nearly drags you along, a laugh caught in your throat as you can’t help but smile at his excitement. 

It’s infectious, you thought as the two of you got in line, Satoru nearly vibrating with need for his sugar fix, and you shook your head, biting back a laugh, just like him. 

~~~

“You don’t have to walk me home,” the sun had long sunk by the time you both had left, staying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks before heading back, “it’s not that far from here,” 

The two of you had opted to take public transport to the amusement park, knowing there would be next to nowhere to park or rather only the middle of nowhere to park. The cicadas were already beginning their symphony, filling the relative silence of the neighborhood now, except for the chatter heard from inside houses or outside in gardens. 

“Who would carry your loot home?” and he tilts the giant plushie to show his unimpressed face, “you barely wanted to carry this at the park, even after you begged me to win it, and I did, in one shot,” 

And he did, he had won you a giant polar bear plushie nearly as tall as you were in his hands, along with several bags of sweets he had bought on the way out, just to snack on tonight (and you seriously wondered if he ate anything that was not coated in mochi, chocolate, or sugar). 

“I don’t remember begging you — I asked you,” you cross your arms, and you know he’s smiling behind the bear, using the plushie to hide his goddamn smirk, “i did! I just asked if we could try to win it—” 

“And I remember the phrases ‘please’ and ‘i need it’ being involved in the conversation,” you felt your cheeks burn, “you still like these things, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” and he moves the polar bear under one arm, the bags in the other so you could actually see his face. 

“You always loved plushies, you had that one from your parents that you kept in your room with you all the time—” 

“Panda, I was very original with that name,” you shake your head, before your gaze turns to him, his sunglasses gleaming on his head in the low light of the streetlamps, “I can’t believe you remembered that,” 

“There’s barely a thing I’d forget when it comes to you,” and you bite your lip, heart squeezing at his words, “you look like you wanna say something, princess?” 

You reached the outside of your apartment building just as night fell, humidity still clinging to the thick summer air. The light of the lobby spilling out into the sidewalk through the glass doors, just as the streets grew quieter. 

And you do — you’re not sure if you should ask it — a question posed on a precipice of uncertainty that you didn’t know if you wanted to step off of. But you know you had to, at one point or another. 

You could just go inside, brush off his question, and leave the day at that. But a nagging question had wriggled it’s way to the forefront of your mind, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your mind until it left your tongue. 

You chew on your lip, “You say these things so easily when it comes to me, but how are you so sure?” 

And he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second, “I just know,” 

“But how?” He’s shaking his head, stepping forward, until he’s a breath away, your eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips for a split second, your own air caught in your traitorous throat. 

“Instead of wondering why I feel why I do, I think you should wonder why you’re so unsure,” and his fingers graze your cheek, tilting your chin upwards, his touch sending heat to the far reaches of your body, and he’s leaning forward. Your eyes nearly flutter shut, as his words nearly warm your lips, but no, instead they brush against your ear, “because if I was still just that kid to you that I was all those years ago, then why aren’t you pulling away?” 

Your eyes blink open, as he pulls away, grin on his lips, as he hands you your polar bear plushie, “Satoru—“ and you don’t even know what you want to say — you want to argue, you want to say something, anything, but nothing comes out but his name. 

“You shouldn’t let a guy get that close, Princess, especially not twice,” he sighs, lips still curled, “because if you let me that close again, I won’t be leaving without a kiss,” 

And you could only stare after him as he left — fingers touching your ear he had whispered against, lips pursing, as you huff, cheeks burning as you step inside your building, burying your face in white fluff of the polar bear that looked a little too much like someone’s hair. 

“Idiot.” 

~~~~

You’re avoiding me. 

Satoru wasn’t wrong. You were — but not exactly on purpose. Or at least you didn’t think so. It had been the third time you had turned him down in the last week. Although, today’s wasn’t intentionally so. You stewed in a corner of the bar, eyes glancing at your phone — what was really an appropriate time to leave a work-sanctioned event without looking completely anti-social? 

It was never really fun coming to these events alone — but you knew if Satoru was here, you’d actually have a good time. You were almost surprised he hadn’t shown up at your place or your work to see you — all he had done is text you. And why did that almost disappoint you?

You checked the time again, met with the notification of Satoru’s message again before you swiped it away out of sight. But he wasn’t out of mind. He hadn’t been for days. You rubbed at your temples — you hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since your day at the amusement park, thoughts spinning in circles and it was all his fault. You had done everything to get him out of your head — minimize contact, not see him, even drag yourself to an event like this — but still, you stared at your phone screen again, the ghost of his words still warming your ear. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Fuck. What were you doing? You took a long swig of your drink, hoping the alcohol could erase some of that night out of your mind. The last thing you needed to be thinking about was Satoru Gojo. 

“So who’s the guy who has been picking you up after work?” 

You nearly choked on your drink. Really? You downed your drink, hoping you can ignore the question if you take long enough downing the searing concoction that the bartender had handed you, maybe they would let you off the hook. But as you finish the drink, you only find your coworkers staring back at you still. The hush that fell over this group of women was far too reverent for a conversation about a man. 

“He’s my little cousin’s best friend,” you reply, ordering another drink — you were going to need it, and the women exchange glances, fake smiles plastered on their lips. 

“He’s not your boyfriend?” and a strange twinge settles in your chest at the question, poking and prodding your tongue to say no, no he wasn’t, but you almost didn’t want to. 

“No, he isn’t,” and the women grin amongst each other, “if you would excuse me—” 

“Wait, wait, we just started talking, come on now,” you sigh internally, as they order another round of drinks as they corral you to their table, maybe after this you could finally leave. 

~~~

“What’s got you so down?” Suguru slides into a seat across from Satoru — Satoru who couldn’t stop checking his phone to see if you had replied. 

“What do you mean?” he sighs, he shouldn’t have sent that text earlier. He shouldn’t push so much, he’s already pushed enough with his comment. God, why the fuck did he say that? What if you thought he was a creep—what if you thought he was disgusting? What if— 

“You look pathetic,” Suguru sips his coffee in his hand, scrolling through his phone, “who is it?” 

Satoru sits up, locking his phone, tucking it away as if it would incriminate him — flashing your name across the screen like it was plastered over his mind, “what do you mean?” 

“I’ve never seen you like this, you keep checking your phone — you barely can keep track of it most of the time,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I figured you must have grew a dick and started liking someone,” 

“Look who’s talking — when’s the last time you dated someone again?” And Satoru catches the crumpled up paper Suguru tosses, “don’t get on your high horse if you don’t want the same thing back,” 

“At least I’m not waiting like a lovesick puppy over my phone,” Suguru mutters, taking another sip of his drink, and that’s when a phone ringing cuts through the silence — that was your ringtone, the very one he set to know when you’d call — just so he wouldn’t miss it, “looks like your waiting by the door paid off,” 

“Fuck off,” Satoru mumbled, walking off with his phone as he picked up, “hello?” 

“Suguru!” Satoru’s brow furrowed at the sound of your cousin’s name leaving your lips, “can you pick me up plz—“ your words were slurred, sounds of chatter cutting through the background. 

“Princ—“ you hiccuped, a small groan leaving your lips. 

“You can’t tell Satoru, he’ll come here and my coworkers won’t stop asking me about him,” you sigh again, mumbling, “why does he have to be so—ugh, it’s not fair for someone to be that pretty—“ 

Pretty? 

His cheeks burned, as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to bite back a stupid smile on his lips — it’s not fair for you to be this cute. He would have preferred ‘handsome’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘your boyfriend’ — but he could settle for pretty. 

“Anyway!” You cut his thoughts off, “could you come get me?” And Satoru bit his lip, glancing at Suguru — he could tell Suguru to get you, he could, but the odds of you letting something slip to Suguru—- “remember you can’t tell Satoru—“ 

—was really high. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there, and I won’t tell him,” he adds, because you already had. 

~~~

“How did you find out where I work?” Satoru didn’t know after so many years that there were still new things to learn about you still — and one thing he had learned tonight was that —- you pouted at him, stumbling slightly as he came to a stop in front of your building — you were really whiny when drunk. 

“I picked you up there, remember?” he lightly flicked your forehead that only made you huff, “now do you have your keys?” 

“Do you know how annoying you are?” And he has to bite back a laugh at your scrunched up face. 

“I do, sweetheart, but I’d love to hear you tell me,” you scoff, crossing your arms only to immediately uncross to dig through your purse for your keys, tossing out several things that Satoru catches or picks up. 

“You come to my work and pick me up, and act all swoon worthy, and perfect, and you look like that—“ 

“Like what?” he can’t hide his smile this time, and your brow furrows as you pull out your keys, lips opening and closing, until you purse them. 

“Like that,” you grumble as you teeter on your feet again, before he supports you, and he swore he heard you mumble, “so disgustingly handsome,” 

And he’s glad your eyes are half closed and focused ahead, otherwise he knew you’d smack him for the grin on his face. 

“Oi, don’t—“ and you don’t listen, nearly falling over as you unlock your door, whole body weight leaned against it, but his arm slips around you, holding you up from face planting into your floor, “you’re gonna break your neck, Princess,” 

“You wouldn’t let that happen,” You break from his grip and lean up close, your breath warming his lips, your gaze half lidded, “not when you love me,” and his heart thuds against his ribs, rattling his lungs and bones alike, “that’s what you said, right?” 

You weren’t making this easy, not with your fingers now sliding up his chest, toying with the top button of his shirt, “I did—“ 

“So are you going to prove it?” And the floor feels as if it slips out from underneath him, and all he feels is you, only you — the brush of your fingers against his chest, the faint scent of lavender from your perfume that your aunt had gifted you, and the caress of your gaze against his lips, the same eyes he could easily lose himself in — if he wasn’t careful. 

But he had to be careful — because it was you. 

“But—“

“But what?” it would be so easy to kiss you, when you were only half a breath away, lips parted and gaze asking him to do so, to just lean in—but he can’t.

Not like this. 

His thumb runs down your lips, your eyes fluttering shut, fingers sliding to cup your jaw, and he leans in — feeling your breath catch—

But he only flicks your forehead, drawing a soft yelp from you. 

“I’d like you to remember our first kiss,” and he’s corralling you into bed after that, your body keeling over into the soft mattress, as he’s able to wriggle you under the comforter. Your body relaxes into the plush bed, eyes shut, as your muscles loosen and unwind, while Satoru stands over you, the exact opposite — muscles taut and mind whirring. 

Fuck.

“You never make it easy, do you, Princess?” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he scrubs a hand down his face, “good night,” his fingers ghost over the swell of your cheek, before turning to leave—

And your fingers caught him around the wrist, eyes half open as you stared up at him, a pout on your lips but now for an entirely different, but somehow the same reason—

“Stay,” one word nearly had him crumble right there — and how pathetic was that? Maybe Suguru was right — he was no better than a puppy at your beck and call — waiting by the door for his master to return. And he almost didn’t mind — if you always came home to him.  

“Princess, you have to go to sleep—“ he could easily break from your grip, fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist, but your grasp may have been very well made of iron with how you had pinned him into place — an entomologist pinning their butterfly in their display. 

“Don’t wanna sleep alone,” a slight whine in your voice makes him waver again, but he had a problem with sleeping beside you—

He shifted in place, adjusting himself, a somewhat big problem thst wouldn’t go away — no matter how many times he thought about Gakuganji in his underwear — especially when you were looking at him like that, half dressed in bed with a pout on your lips and want in your gaze—want that he never thought would be for him. 

“Please?” And that’s all it takes, his thumb rubbing against your fingers — because he could never say no to you. 

~~~~

“Are you okay?” 

Satoru was never left alone — not since he had managed to wander off alone when he was five. It took several hours and a dozen security guards to find him at a bakery, having his third piece of cake. And when he was brought home, he was told just how many ways that could have went wrong — what could have happened to him, and most of all — how badly it could have made his parents look. 

After that, he couldn’t remember a time that his hand wasn’t clutched by a caretaker or escort — from school to home to anywhere else he wished to go. But he never wished to go anywhere, not with a stranger at his side. 

It was only when he met Suguru that he was allowed to go out without someone hovering over his shoulder. But without warning — warning that if any incident would mean he would be stuck back in his daily life. But that meant when he got distracted in the pastry section of the supermarket — looking for the exclusive mochi he desperately wanted — he found himself alone, with you and Suguru nowhere in sight. 

“Suguru?” Satoru called, head whipping around, chest thudding as the white noise of the market grew louder. His gaze falls, ears ringing with all that could go wrong, back to the life with no one at his side, only strangers— 

“Toru?” Satoru’s gaze snaps up, your hands on your hips, your head tilted, “you okay?” And he’s quickly wiping away his tears, sniffling softly, your hand finding the top of his head, “i got you something,” and you hold out a mochi in front of him, and he blinks. 

“You found it?” He’s blinking and your lips curve into a pretty smile. 

“Anything for you, Satoru,” your fingers run through his hair, “Satoru? Satoru—“ 

His eyes flutter open, finding you leaning over him, your tousled hair in messy tangles, “finally awake?” And a soft chuckle on your lips as you speak, rubbing your eye, flinching as you rub your temples, “what exactly happened last night?” 

“You mean besides you calling me pretty?” And your jaw drops, biting your lip, “and begging me to stay? Didn’t know you liked my company that much, Princess,” 

You glare at him, “well with charm like that—“ you mutter, when it occurs to you, “why did you sleep on the floor? And with that?” You point to the polar bear plushie he used as a pillow last night. 

Not his most preferred bedfellow. 

Always full of surprises, his cheeks burn, and he only can hope it doesn’t show on his face, hidden behind a cheeky smile, “Didn’t know you were so eager to share a bed with me, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “I have to warn you, I have a tendency to cuddle—“ and you smack him with a pillow, he sighs, “someone wasn’t too keen on sharing her pillows with me, so this was the best I could do,”

You snort, as you take the offending plushie from him, “Did you do something to him?”

He tilts his head, “Eh?” And you hold up the polar bear plush, “what could I do to him?”  

“Someone did threaten to toss him out into the ocean so he could join his family,” 

“I can do a lot of things, but I can’t solve global warming, Princess,” and you bite back a laugh, “I was on my best behavior with him last night, even though he’s a shitty pillow,” and you didn’t have to know how he had slapped him a couple times. 

But even so, you bite your lip, looking down as you toy with your comforter, “why did you come?” 

He blinks, “what do you mean?” 

“You could have sent Suguru, but you came, and you stayed, on the floor,” and he curls his lips. 

“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” And you roll your eyes, still waiting for an answer, and his voice grows soft, “you know why, Princess,” 

“I do, but I don’t,” you murmur, fidgeting with your blanket as you chewed on your bottom lip, “my coworkers couldn’t stop talking about you last night, they kept saying how handsome you are, how wonderful, how perfect—“ 

“Should I be less handsome or perfect? Because don’t know if that’s possible—“ and it earns him another whack with the pillow, but he only catches it, “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” 

“It’s not, but I don’t know why after all these years, you still want me,” you sigh, words pushing past your lips,  “you could have anyone, Satoru,” 

“If I just wanted anyone, I wouldn’t have fell in love with you,” and you bury your face in your pillow, gaze peeking down at him. 

“You say that with such ease, how do you know what love even is? I don’t know if I know what it is,” you add, mumbling under your breath, and his eyes can’t help but follow the way your fingers run through your hair. 

“I don’t think I need to know when I feel it,” Satoru sat up, dangerously close to you, within reach yet so far out of it, “do you need to know to see the sky is blue? Do you need to know to feel pain when you burn yourself?” 

“Didn’t know you were taking philosophy classes with Suguru,” and he snorts, shaking his head, “Satoru—“ 

“Like I said before, Princess, just give me some time,” his fingers reach for you, and your breath catches, before he slowly smoothed your hair out, “and I’ll win you over,” 

Your eyes flicker to his, and god, he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you, but he couldn’t. He had to be patient. He couldn’t push you — he wanted you to want him just as much. He would make you fall into his arms willingly, and you’d kiss him — not the other way around. 

“Want some breakfast?” your lips curl into a soft smile, the very same smile that he had fallen for time and time again. 

“You offering to cook me breakfast?” 

“Just wondering what would shut you up the quickest,” and he has half a mind to reply with ‘your lips,’ but he decides against it, “pancakes?” 

~~~

“I can feel you staring,” 

Even with your back turned to the stove, bowl in hand as you whipped the batter with the whisk, hoping your laser focus on the pancakes would help you distract yourself. But it did little when you could feel his gaze sticking in your back, spotlights on every little movement — something that wouldn’t have bothered you before — but after last night—

This was why you never drank. 

You covered your face with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, as you placed the bowl down, what had your life become? 

“C’mon you can’t just let a guy like that go,” one of the women from work nudged you — you couldn’t remember if her name was Kanae or Kanao — handing you a refill of the drink you had gotten, “he certainly seems into you from the way he looks at you,” 

“If he isn’t, I’d take him off your hands,” Saki slurred, nearly spilling her drink, “he seems to like you. Is there really nothing between you two?” 

“Not really,” you sipped your drink, if confessing to you after over a decade was nothing, “he’s just a friend,” and he was — a friend who was your fake boyfriend. 

“You know with how you started, I thought your love life would be a lot more interesting,” Kanae sighed far too loudly, as she took another long swig of her cocktail. 

“Well we’ve talked a lot about what you guys are but we haven’t asked how you feel,” Saki grinned, sloppily drunk yet somehow masterful with her questions, “how do you feel about him?” 

And how did you? If someone asked you a few weeks ago, you would said he was just your little cousin’s best friend, a childhood friend — and you wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, he has given you so much to think about. Would you be this hesitant if you two haven’t met as kids? If he wasn’t Suguru’s best friend? If he didn’t seem so far out of your league? 

Maybe. But you were never good at going for things you wanted — or accepting things as they were. Even with Naoya, you knew you should have broken up with him — you knew he was toxic, and yet you stayed — because it was easier. 

And maybe it was easier to push Satoru away than to face how you felt.

Fuck, you were too drunk for this — you needed to get out of here, “excuse me,” you manage to slip away into the bathroom, washing your face, leaning over the sink. 

You held your forehead, steadying yourself against the cold porcelain, fingers digging into the rim of the sink — eyes burning as your head throbs, a wave of nausea pulsing through your stomach. Fuck, there was no way that you could get home alone. 

You pulled out your phone and scrolled — who the fuck would you call? The only people you knew were your family and…

Nope. No. Not an option. 

You found Suguru’s number and tried to text, only to find your eyes blurring, and you knew if you sent a message he would be holding over any typos or fuck ups over your head forever. 

You found his name, your head spinning as you clicked and called. 

He didn’t pick up.

“Fucker,” you mumble, trying to hit his name again, your head spinning, and finally someone picked up—

And then you woke up in bed. A soft groan fell from your lips, knives prodding at every inch of your brain, memory blended and choppy as you drew into consciousness. You were home, your eyes fluttering open to sunlight illuminating your bedroom, a dull stiffness in your muscles that makes you stretch, turning on your side only to be met with a sight. 

Satoru Gojo. Asleep on your floor, cuddling the plush polar bear he won for you. You stared, blinking, wondering if blinking away the sleep would somehow blink away Satoru too (it did not unfortunately). So you did the only other thing you could think of — take a picture. 

As you glanced from the image to him, bits and pieces came back — from your drunken ramblings on the phone to the ones in person, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in your comforter before staring down at him. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? You were really testing those limits. 

But even so, as you watched him sleep on top of the plushie, the only thing you could wonder was why had he stayed? He could have left after you fell asleep, or even before that, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop him. But he stayed, even on the floor, rather than anywhere else. 

“So?” you didn’t need to turn from the stove to know he was grinning, “can’t I enjoy the show, Princess?” 

“If you’re enjoying it so much, how about you become part of it and help?” you offer him a spatula, as he makes his way over, leaning over you, his body brushing against yours, but you ignore it all the same, eyes focused on the task instead on the warmth blooming from his touch, “I’ll spoon and you flip,” 

The two of you work in silence, as you spoon batter onto the griddle and he flips the pancakes — and it’s only when you’re both just about done that you glance over, and his lips are curled, “What are you smiling about?” and he shakes his head, as he flips the last of the pancakes onto the stack, “Satoru—“ 

“I just never really have made breakfast like this before, or had someone make it for me,” he scratches the back of his head, “my parents always had chefs or maids or someone make me all my meals, and even when I moved out, I always cooked alone or bought my meals out,” he shrugs, as he turned the stove off, “it reminds me when you’d make me and Suguru instant ramen after we came in from playing outside,” 

You snort, “You remember that?” You would get stuck making ramen for the two of them, tossing some seasoning and sauces into the mixture along with an egg, “I always put too much black pepper. I thought you hated it,” 

“But I always finished,” he added, and he did, even if his cheeks were burning red and eyes watering by the end of the bowl. Your lips curl at the memory of him at the age of twelve downing an entire glass of water and spilling it all over the front of himself. 

“Well I can make a lot more than instant noodles now,” you have Satoru set the table while you start to clean up, turning on the sink. You hear the clink of plates and utensils behind you, as he sets them down on the table, but you can feel his gaze fall over you even as your back is turned. 

“I’m going to need some proof — there were a few times you almost burned those noodles,” and you pout, turning with your hands on your hips. 

“Oh you want me to prove it now?” You turn, running your finger discreetly up the side of the used mixing bowl, finger full of batter as you walk up to him, hands behind your back. 

“And how’re you gonna do that, Princess?” the corner of his lip quirks upwards, as you step close up to him, and god, he’s fucking tall — and it kind of pissed you off — all these boys shoot up like fucking weeds, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t knock him down a bit. 

“Close your eyes, and find out,” he raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but still he obeys — good boy, the praise runs through your head to the tip of your tongue, but you bite it and the words back alike. And you’re so close, you can see his snow white eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, and he’s so unfairly pretty, 

For now. 

You’re so close, you nearly feel his body warmth radiate your skin — and you swear you hear his breath hitch — and it would be so easy to lean forward— “Princess — what—” 

And then he gasps when you smear pancake batter down his cheek, a snort leaving your lips as he gapes at you, mouth ajar. He blinks, his hand reaching for his cheek, before he stops when his eyes flit to your batter caked finger, “You—” 

You’re giggling, trying to stop yourself from doubling over at his expression, “What? I just wanted to give you a taste of my cooking before you tried it,” and he frowns at you for a moment, before his lips curl deviously, tilting his head. 

“Is that right?” and his fingers run through the smeared batter, caking his finger tips before he’s stepping towards you, “then it’s fair, if I make you taste it too—“ and you’re trying to back up, giggles leaving your lips,  but he catches you by the wrist. 

“Satoru—“ you whine as you’re trying to squirm away, “let go!” but he only pulls you close, your body nearly bumping against his — and it was your turn for your breath to catch, cerulean irises stealing the air from your lungs as you drowned in them, “hey—“ 

“Just how much are you gonna tempt me, Princess?” and you should step away, but his fingers around your wrist send warmth blooming down your arm, straight to your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to step away. 

“And how am I doing that?” His fingers tug you closer, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist, before he leans close. 

“You know exactly how,” and your glance flickers from his gaze to his lips, and back again, resisting the urge to shut your eyes — but you don’t have to, when he smears the batter all over your cheek. 

“Toru!” You stare at him, and he’s laughing, as you grab at him, only for him to slip away, “I’m gonna kill you—“ and you move towards the sink, batter covered bowl still inside, “oh just you wait—“ 

But your beeline is cut short by his grip, arm darting around your middle, as he pulls you back. You gasp, struggling in his arms in vain — fuck his stupidly toned arms,  “you shouldn’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” his words are said against your ear, but they rush down your body in almost a shudder. 

His lips are an inch or two from yours, you would barely need to lean to reach them — the words of your coworkers ring in your ears 

“Who said I wasn’t?” His eyes find yours, his fingers tilting your chin ever so slightly, when your phone rings. 

You jerk slightly at the sound, your eyes flickering to the name across the screen and see Suguru’s name flashing on the screen. 

“It’s Suguru,” and Satoru lets go of you, as you make your way to the phone, and you swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” you don’t pick up the phone but a few texts come through anyway. 

“Nothing,” he scratched the back of his head, “what did he say?” 

“He’s asking if I wanna come over for dinner tonight, said you’re gonna be there too?” And you raise an eyebrow, as Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. 

“Apparently I am,” you turn on the faucet, cleaning your face off, offering Satoru a damp tissue. “Guess this won’t be the last meal we’re sharing today,” 

“Guess not,” his fingers brush yours when taking the tissue, trying to clean the batter off his cheek but only spreads the mess. You snort, as you take the napkin from him holding his face by the chin, “so how’re we gonna play it?” 

“Play what?” You toss the napkin away, both of you taking a seat at the table. 

“Did you forget?” He stabs a pancake and places it in his plate, “we told your aunt we’re dating — and that we’re hiding it from Suguru, and you just agreed to dinner with both of them,” 

Fuck. 

✧ a/n: hi it's been quite a while T_T. sorry work has been so busy. i haven't had a moment to post, and now i had to split this up because it just got too long lmao. part two will come later, i'm going to be prioritizing my kinktober fics. thank you to @coffee-and-geto for betaing :)

✧ taglist: @satorusmochis , @celestialgojo , @sugurubabe , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @strawberryfanatic01 , @cira273 , @sobbangchan , @hiraethwrote , @peppertoastuniverse , @dreamtardisspace , @redmangotango , @h4ru-h4ruu , @anpacax0 , @theshylittleelfgirl , @hyori2 , @elliesndg , @maddietries , @roses-can-be-deadly-too, @vernasce-blogs , @mrsoikawa17 , @spider-fan72 , @haoxiaoxi , @horchatacow , @lovemoreworrylessv, @maybe-a-bi-witch , @missroki , @rubyarerosies ,, @ranatherealestsigma , @svt-backup , @catsgomurp , @sakurastorm , @forest-fruits-jam , @lemonpoppy-seed , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @notgoodforlife , @johannakhalafalla , @fushitoru , @kentosbutterfly , @augustwinesworld

「 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞) . . . ⇢ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 」

masterlist post for my zombie apocalypse gojo x reader au ! :3

⋆ links !! ꒰ fic playlist ꒱ ✧ ꒰ au tag ꒱ ´ˎ˗ 

✦ ・ 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞) ⊹ sfw !!

wc: 17.5k ⊹ there’s never any time to think about your feelings for each other when you’re so focused on ensuring that you both live to see another day

genres included: slowburn, angst with a happy ending, descriptive violence

⋆ extra fics *ೃ༄

𖥸 ─ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ⊹ nsfw !!

wc. tbd ⊹ you and satoru finally get some alone time

genres included: fluff + smut, first time together

𖥸 ─ 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 ⊹ sfw !!

wc. tbd ⊹ the fated moment you and satoru lost your friends

genres included: angst, descriptive violence, minor character death

𖥸 ─ 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐜 ⊹ sfw !!

wc. tbd ⊹ you ask satoru the hardest question ever

genres included: heavy angst, major character death

JUST FOR YOU (6.2K)

— viking!bakugou x f!reader

synopsis: your childhood best friend also known as your tailor comes to visit! bakugou doesn’t trust him at all.

warnings: 18+ content, minors don't interact, ageless blogs don't interact, female reader, referred to: (baby, my lady), arranged marriage, lovey dovey, 69, unprotected sex, fingering (f), p to v, chief kink lol, whole load of kissing, big three: (angst, fluff, smut), jealousy, mentions of violence, viking themes are light and inspired, modern language.

notes: PART FOUR to FOR YOU MY VIKING BKG SERIES!! can be read as a standalone. if there’s typos this was a one man job! thank u kanye for that one line, i had to steal it. lets go girls.

forget everything you said before. fiancé, almost wed life, was fun. dreamlike. a fantasy come to life. your fiancé, head chief of your new village bakugou katsuki, or to you, ‘ki, drags you into the warm cocoon of his arms all while being half asleep.

“dunno what you’re dreamin’ about to somehow find your way out of my arms,” the chief grunts, deep and musky. you inhale the junction between his neck and shoulder, muffling a giggle in his skin. his newly scarred arm wraps around your waist and you can feel every bump and groove of his body against you. him sleeping naked and you in one of his old cotton tunics does that.

“i’m dreaming about you, chief.”

bakugou feels you smiling, the tilt of your voice at his title. he pinches your side, making you yelp though there’s nowhere to go in his arms.

“here we go with the chief shit. you want my dick this early?”

his words are so harsh, rough but make your insides tingle all the same. you rock your body against his and there’s no hiding how he’s feeling.

“it feels like you want me this early actually.”

when you start to wriggle in his arms, bakugou loosens his grip, letting you shift to sit on his lower stomach. you love his gaze on you. ruby eyes study your bare shoulder from where his tunic dropped, the slope of your neck, your bare hips from where the fabric sits. you don’t need him to say he adores you because you can feel it.

“aren’t i lucky to marry you.”

it’s not a question, a statement. he bites down on his bottom lip, dragging it slowly between his teeth then letting it go. you run your hands over his bare chest at the same time large rough palms sit on your thighs. you sigh at the sight of the bandage on his left forearm.

“does it still hurt?”

bakugou glances down at his arm like he forgot he was even injured.

“nothin’ hurts when you’re near me.”

you roll your eyes and he squeezes your hips in response, rocking you slightly onto his cock. he presses between your ass cheeks, your next breath shaky.

“c-can you just be honest with me? we should get it checked out again today so it doesn’t get infected.”

his cock twitches, the left corner of his mouth rising.

“i’ve never lied to you—,”

“you did last week when you said there were no cinnamon buns left in the bakery.”

“that wasn’t a lie if i brought them all back home. is it, princess?”

“but—,”

“nuh-uh. none in the bakery wasn’t a lie ‘cause there wasn’t.” two hands drag you by the hips back and forth over his cock. just the feeling of him between your legs makes you hum though when his head brushes your clit, your whole body buzzes.

“tell me i’m not a liar, princess.”

his voice is smooth, butter melting over pancakes. you feel him thickening. you’re chasing the pleasure trying to flick your hips but he’s in control. it feels like he’s in control of your lips too when you say, “you’re not a liar.”

your eyes fall shut and you can’t help but lean forward to arch your back, hands pressing into the pillow on either side of his head.

“f-fuck,” you moan, your centre warm with a desire to be filled. if he’d just let you lift your hips, you could slide him right inside, “ki, i want you.”

“i know you do, baby,” his hand caresses your cheek, lifting your head to slot your mouth against his. his tongue slides into your mouth and it’s so overwhelming. your nose nudges against his and you practically inhale each other, licking as much as you can of him.

he does it without too much movement, that if you didn’t want it so bad you wouldn’t have noticed. your hips lift an inch before you sink down onto your fiancé.

you sigh into his mouth, cradling his head with your forearms. “oh i needed this.”

“you had this yesterday,” his chuckle surrounds you, sexy and loving.

you flick your hips up and down, chasing whatever feels good. in response, it makes him feel good too with the inescapable speed his hips match yours with.

“so?”

your place your lips on his neck, licking and sucking down on a spot. his neck is the most sensitive, he didn’t need to tell you for you to find out. it’s not too soon before his pace quickens, the wooden bed frame slamming against the wall. you guys have never cared for the noise since you’re on the top floor.

“you’re fuckin’ bliss, princess,” he grumbles, pulling you from his neck back onto his mouth.

his favourite, coming while his tongue is down your throat.

your breath is shaky, your hips jolting as electricity shoots through your limbs. it’s heavenly, the sides of him pressing against your walls, the feeling of your lover coming inside you too.

bakugou’s trembling through his orgasm, still trying to kiss you through it before giving into his release.

“ugh, fuck.”

he’s too sensitive, you can tell when he starts to get twitchy so you slowly roll off him.

“we needa get you off those herbs, lemme put a baby in ya,” bakugou mumbles, wiping the thin layer of sweat off his forehead. you snuggle into his side, ignoring the wetness between your legs for the time being.

“okay, man who’s life isn’t going to be frozen for nine months and life will change forever after. give me a few years,” you laugh breathlessly, sitting up to pull off your tunic from the heat.

eyes float over your chest and you’re addicting. bakugou presses kisses on the tops of your breasts.

“i know, i know,” he whispers and you brush the blonde strands drooping onto his forehead back. his ruby eyes get darker in such intimate times, meeting yours in a mutual ground. “just lookin’ forward to our life together.”

you hum but a smile breaks out nevertheless. “so cute. you like me that much!”

now you’re greeted with rolled eyes but not for too long until his lips circle your nipple. your back arches instantly, your breath hitching.

“like? yeah, i like you so much,” he deadpans, not giving you a chance to reply before finding your nipple again and sucking hard.

moans ripple out your mouth, “you’re gonna make me—,”

“chief? my lady?” three knocks shake the room and bakugou’s “hah?” leaves him without control.

your house staff rarely ever get onto your and bakugou’s floor, so this must be an emergency? you sit up abruptly and bakugou lifelessly falls back on the bed beside you in a huff.

“y-yes?” your body hears for a whole other reason. did they hear everything? oh god.

“just to remind you both, my lady’s guest will be arriving in a few moments if their travels have gone to plan.”

“oh my god, i forgot all about that! yes, we will be out in a sec!” you call.

bakugou’s still groaning, “will we be?”

you shove his side but he barely moves, taking hold of your hand. “we’re still gonna visit the doctor for your arm.”

“yes, my lady.”

what you have forgotten to tell your fiancé was how your old villages dress tailor was absolutely in love with you. bakugou was expecting an old man to walk through those doors. instead he finds that imaginary man’s son, around the same age as you both, smiling like he’s been blessed with fresh meat from a raid.

your presence does make one feel like that though. especially with how you look, freshly showered, a simple white flowy dress on, smelling like this new lavender honey soap he stole from a few towns over. you practically jump in this man’s arms and there’s not a second where this man isn’t touching you.

arms around your waist, then holding your forearms, then your hands.

“benji! i didn’t think i’d be seeing you today! where’s your father?” until you take a step back in shock, “why are you taller and so… muscular?”

you’re that close with him? bakugou’s met a few of your friends and this 6 foot, well built, floppy haired guy was not included. he doesn’t even realise he’s grinding on his molars with his eyes fixated on this man, benji’s, fucking hands.

when you think back to old benji, or actually younger benji, you remember a scrawny haired kid. skinny and not yet built for his body. shy smiles when you’d see his father for a fitting or when he’d come to your home to deliver a dress. that nervous cute boy is definitely not who is before you. his clothes fit him tightly in a purposeful way, definition in his biceps and even his neck is thicker. he’s not as big as your fiance but he’s definitely on the way to it. you can’t stop looking him up and down.

“father caught a cold, nothing too serious!” he exclaims once your eyes find his again. the old benji’s blush paints his cheeks at your attention. bakugou’s sure if he left the room this loser would try and put moves on you. brown eyes gazing all over your face like he’s trying to find what’s changed since you left, “so i’m sorry to say you’re stuck with me for this fitting.”

you laugh, your cute airy one that makes bakugou feel warm, “stuck! definitely not stuck with the best tailor villages have seen for years.”

benji’s fucking eyes twinkle and bakugou thinks that’s enough, stepping forward to remind everyone he’s fucking here too.

you lean back into your fiancé, benji’s hands falling from yours, “benji, this is katsuki, my fiancé! he looks mean but trust me he’s a teddy bear.”

you seem to forget that he’s only like that with you because bakugou is only staring at this man with pure warning, playing out in his head taking this guy in a fight. he’d win with no weapons. his jaw is gritted, chains around his neck and just a normal shirt. bakugou looks a little terrifying not even in his chief clothing.

benji nods at bakugou with a little bow. he half laughs, “i don’t think i get first name privileges, right?”

“yes!” “no.”

you and bakugou say at the same time. you glance up at him with a frown and bakugou avoids your gaze still trying to work out this benji, who’s going to be touching all over your body for the sake of measurements.

“nice to meet you, chief. we’ve all missed yn back home.”

bakugou wants to snap, she’s at home here and doing perfectly fuckin’ fine without you. but benji hasn’t said anything rude or wrong. anyone would miss you. he misses you when he wakes up before you.

so he sticks to silence, just a nod in response.

he respects how this guy holds eye contact with him and keeps this polite demeanour, or whatever the fuck he’s doing. small smile and bright eyes before locking eyes with you and both get bigger. bakugou hates this guy.

“okay well. i was planning on taking you around for a tour of the village for a catch up and then we can get back here to start measuring? i’m sure i’m different now with all the food i’ve been eating here, i can take you to the bakery!” you turn to bakugou, finger hooking with his, “do you wanna come too?”

he wants to, to monitor this guy. make sure he’s not acting stupid around you and looking at you like he looks at you and— bakugou huffs internally. he trusts you.

“nah, you guys go. i’ve got shit to go through here. bring me back an blueberry tart, yeah?”

he ducks down for your lips to meet his cheek but he’s not taking any chances, gripping your chin to press his lips to yours. you’re a fool for your fiancé, forgetting anyone else is in the room on an average day when he touches you. your body presses against his, hands gripping his shirt as your head tilts to fit his. you taste like minty toothpaste and you find some apple on his tongue from one he devoured while walking down the stairs.

then it’s an embarrassing switch of you pulling away abruptly because you remember your audience. you look like a deer in headlights, about to apologise when benji, who’s shuffling on his feet, says, “married life, ey?”

“not yet!”

“i see.”

bakugou sees the twinkle in this stupid man’s eye again. just because there’s no wedding ring around your finger, he thinks he can just slither in. fuck no.

“c’mon, let’s go before they run out of blueberry tarts,” he grins.

bakugou bites his tongue. if it were anyone else all hell would have broke loose, the blade he keeps at his waist would be at this man’s neck. he could even take him out with a single punch at his temple. though, he doesn’t because you press a lasting kiss to bakugou’s cheek, whispering, “see you later, gorgeous.”

you don’t get to see your friends often, you moved villages for him. most of all he trusts you with his life and you can take care of yourself if anything happens.

“see you baby.”

he watches you and this new guy walk out his home in bubbling conversation and laughter.

bakugou trusts you!! he trusts you so much. he trusts you. he just doesn’t trust that guy. not at all and not even a little. though he doesn’t think he’d wanna face you if he gets caught following behind you both and you need to have a life outside of him. just not with benji.

so when the door slams shut, just knowing you’re nearby makes bakugou feel a whole lot better.

“home!”

“i didn’t think the blueberry tart would be that nice.”

that fucking guy.

“in here!” bakugou shouts and soon enough he hears your footsteps getting louder.

he’s sat at his grand round table alone, massive brown map before him with piles of books messily scattered. he’s got a pot of ink and his pen, making chicken scrawl notes for his next raid.

you slip through the door, the scent of sugared ginger filling his room made for conversations about bloodshed. there’s flowers in your hair, probably from the village kids and you’re practically dancing into the room. green streaks from grass are across the bottom of your skirt and you’re holding what looks like a pie wrapped in red gingham cloth.

“hello my lover,” you smile and bakugou hums with warmth.

you slide the pie on the table before wrapping your arms around his neck from the back. you press your cheek against his and bakugou holds your forearm.

“got you a blueberry pie, jennie said this is her new recipe and wanted her chief to taste it.” you say into his ear, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

“thanks princess,” bakugou scrunches his nose, “how was your… catch up? how long you’ve known him for?”

he’s trying, he’s trying to sound normal. level headed. completely under control.

you laugh though and he knows he’s failed, “good! known his family all my life. his father’s made all my family’s clothes.”

bakugou huffs, “don’t fuckin’ like him.”

jealousy. your first time seeing it on him so you’re eating it up. “why?”

“he’s in love with you. all touchy, makin’ jokes. probably knows a bunch of shit about you i don’t,” bakugou runs a finger along the rough edge of his map. he’s not insecure, there’s nothing for him to be insecure about. the strongest, most feared man anybody has come across. until it comes to you.

“i don’t think he’s in love with me and he knows the old me. you’re gonna know me now and every version of me to come. right?”

bakugou sighs, pulling you into his arms. you’re glowing compared to him, sinking and gloomy. shiny eyes, glossy lips and your fingers scratching at his beard.

“yeah,” is all he says staring down at you. he licks his lips, “thanks for my pie.”

“no problem, gorgeous. i’m gonna go now, get measured.”

“he’s gonna see you naked?”

“well in my underwear.” you adjust to wiggle out of his grip.

bakugou groans loudly, “you couldn’t have had a female tailor? you know, like the average woman?”

“hey, if the man’s good at his job,” you shrug.

“and in love with you. another man who’s in love with you will be seeing you naked. fuck,” bakugou throws his head back on his chair, closing his eyes. he can literally feel his blood boil in his veins.

“not naked! again, in my underwear and he won't even be touching me, just with the tape!” you laugh, “and he’s not in love with me but if it bothers you so much you can sit with us?”

bakugou groans again, “nah, i can’t. i sound fuckin’ crazy. i don’t own you.”

“i am yours though,” you grin, backing up to leave. you’re holding onto the door ready to slip out.

“you are and i’m yours too,” he looks over at you, leaning back in his chair with a defeated raise of his brow. his arms are tense resting on his arm rests, showing in his beige fabric vest.

“that you are, gorgeous.”

bakugou can’t help it. he couldn’t concentrate on his work with the gnawing imagery of fucking benji touching you while you giggle away about something he should be hearing. and also he’s the chief, this is his village, he can do what he wants. so whilst wiping blueberry tart crumbs off his face, bakugou stomps towards the sound of melodic laughs and stupid quiet mumbles.

it’s a sight that if he wasn’t already prepared, would make bakugou switch into an immediate red rage. he’s not an animal but sometimes he’s trained to act like one however he knows this isn’t the time. especially when your eyes light up at his presence.

you’re in your simple baby blue laced trimmed underwear with this fucking man kneeling down at your feet, measuring your… ankles? what the fuck. benji has the measuring tape in his hand, paired with a pencil tucked behind his ear. bakugou notices a flash of alarm pass through benji’s eyes before trying to relax. bakugou can tell the guy can’t completely settle now he’s here. guess the chief thing has got some power.

“hey baby, have you finished the last plan?” you ask sweetly, standing up straighter by placing your hands on your hips.

you’re so beautiful. everyone knows it and bakugou knows you’d let him gaze over your body. your soft breasts and thighs. your smooth skin, highlighted against the blue and you’re standing so confidently, like you should. clearly comfortable with them both in the room.

bakugou grunts in reply, “yeah, think we’re gonna hold the chief captive. shove his staff in a room, don’t think he’s got too many. then knife to the throat, if all goes well.”

“if all goes well?”

bakugou glares down at benji, the look of alarm back through his eyes for a whole other reason. it’s like the words spilled out of him without realising though he won’t take back his surprise. he locks eyes with bakugou before jotting down some numbers in his notebook.

has he forgotten the respect which comes to talking to a chief in their village? does bakugou look like a fool? you don’t pay any mind though, breaking off a corner of a croissant and popping it in your mouth.

“it’s a fuckin’ raid. i’m not sure what you’re sayin’ here.” bakugou’s coaxing, curious for the reply.

“i know, chief. just is the violence necessary?”

bakugou laughs, loud yet lacking humour. what’s even more amusing is how you laugh too yet humour coats yours. benji looks between you both in confusion before wrapping his measuring tape around your thigh.

the sight has bakugou’s blood run hot. like his hands weren’t touching you there earlier. fuck, has he always been so possessive?

“how do you think your village gets shit? by sitting on their fuckin’ hands and waitin’?”

“we make deals.” then in a much lower tone, “i guess selling our ladies isn’t much better.”

there’s a pause in the room from you and your fiancé. frozen for a second before staring at each other. you in a ‘did he really just say that?’ and him in a ‘what the actual fuck?’

“what the fuck—,”

but bakugou’s voice means nothing to how you abruptly step back out of benji’s grasp. you’d think the switch in tension would urge you to cover up but you stand there as tall as ever with a seething glare.

“i wasn’t sold by anybody, benjamin. you didn’t think you were coming here to save me were you? is that what all the talk about how everyone misses me back home and you got a new horse was about?”

bakugou can’t help the “fuckin’ prick” that leaves his throat.

“your father gave you to a chief for a deal we won’t get raided,” benji replies, “if you weren’t a trade, what were you?”

you’re in stunned silence from all the things you can say. but benji takes that as a chance to continue, “you had dreams, yn! when we were little we wanted to travel, you wanted to study and you never wanted to marry! i know you wouldn’t want to marry a savage like that!”

benji’s pointer finger whips out to point at bakugou who raises an angry eyebrow. bakugou knows when to step in when you’re involved though he can’t help make the easy manoeuvre of yanking benji’s arm behind his back in a painful and awkward position.

benji yelps as he’s held against bakugou’s chest. “knew there was somethin’ fuckin’ weird with you.”

a few months ago, bakugou would have completely believed what benji said. felt shit about himself, believe you were forced to be by his side. but you’ve both been through that and it’s in the past. the only person who needs to know the truth is his him and you though apparently there’s a confused saviour in his hands.

you, on the other hand, squint at your childhood friend like he’s stupid. you let the man wiggle in bakugou’s grasp who holds him effortlessly despite his bruised arm.

“yn, please. we can go back together, say he was hurting you. i know he’s probably done worse,” benji spits out.

still in your underwear, you cross your arms and cock out a hip to stand comfortably.

“benji, i’m sorry but you’re sadly mistaken. did you not listen to anything i said during our walk or were you just fixated on your little plan to save me from my big bad husband?” you do a cocky pout at him, “i didn’t want to marry anybody at thirteen! though honestly, if i met katsuki then i probably would have.”

bakugou chuckles genuinely, chest bouncing as he grips benji even tighter. together, you ignore the annoying man’s yelps.

“to make this clear if i want to leave i can and i definitely wouldn’t need your help. katsuki is a dream and i am absolutely and devotedly in love with him, get that through your skull.” you sigh, another man who underestimates you. “you always loved making up stories that weren’t true.”

“i love you too,” bakugou chips in.

benji blinks rapidly, giving up on fighting out of bakugou’s grip. “i-i read about this in a book! they call it stockholm syndrome, when—,”

you hold out a hand, “i know what stockholm syndrome is and this isn’t the same circumstance. my life is beautiful here, if you listened at all to me on our walk you’d know. i love the people, my home, my husband. helping out, going on raids, a future family and yes benji, going to study too.”

weirdly, benji roars. it’s so out of character it makes you jump and bakugou snaps into action by shoving benji’s front into a wall so he can’t move.

“i was really looking forward to my new dresses.”

“i’ll find you a better tailor. i know one a good one few villages across.”

benji fights bakugou’s grip but he’s practically stuck between two walls now.

“yn, please. i can love you better than him.”

bakugou lifts him from the wall before pushing him against it again. “you can’t.”

you’re devastated, your childhood long friendship crumbling before you. benji’s wild eyes are trying to find yours, relate to something only you both know but you’re finding it hard to locate. he doesn’t know you anymore. you yank a tunic off the table to cover yourself up.

“go home, benji. don’t come back here and don’t visit me when i see my family.”

you sound as dejected as benji looks, eyes drooping and shoulders dropping. he looks nothing like how he did when you saw him last or even this morning. bakugou mumbles something in his ear before letting him go and suddenly, benji is shorter. smaller. creases in his clothes and his hair a sweaty mess.

“fine but if you ever need me, you know where i am.”

“i won’t.”

“leave now before i kill you.” bakugou states bored and everyone in the room is sure he’ll follow through.

two of bakugou’s men appear in the doorway, ready to escort benji out though bakugou thinks for a moment before following behind them.

bakugou finds you less than ten minutes later, sitting on the floor with your legs bent. you’re clearly in deep thought, lifting your head to your lover, “did you break his legs?”

bakugou nods, scrambling to sit on the floor beside you too. he’s uncharacteristically crossed legged to match how you’re feeling and your heart sings.

“nothing permanent just enough to not walk for a month.”

you smile but your voice is a sigh, “guess everyone is going to be talking about that then. yn’s brutal chief fiancé just broke poor benji’s legs.”

bakugou takes your hand in both of his, lifting to kiss your wrist. “i like the sound of that.”

bakugou’s smile makes you smile. you shake your head, “you know what i mean. i hate how everyone thinks i can’t handle you and i don’t care usually but how does everyone back home see me as so weak? especially, benji! i literally was in raids that got them food and fabric on his back!”

bakugou’s heart leaps in his chest. before he was the same, underestimating you. not believing you could handle his life, the violence and pain. but he knows better now. you’re shaking, chest heaving and bakugou is yet to see you cry. he’s never around people crying not because of him. he opens up his arms and you harshly throw your hand up. “no, i’m not about to cry.”

your voice cracks on the last syllable so bakugou shoves you in his arms anyway. your head rests on his shoulders as his arms circle you.

“it’s okay, baby,” he mumbles.

“i know. i love it here and i love you. of course, it’s okay,” your voice is a watery mess and bakugou laughs. “just wanted new dresses.”

“i’ll get you some. tell me more about him.”

“benji? i could tell you hated him when i introduced him.” you wipe your nose on bakugou’s tunic. he doesn’t care.

“wanted to kill him, still do. okay, tell me about you when you were thirteen.”

you shuffle so you’re sat comfortably in his lap, legs over his thighs, your hand running up his arm.

“you first.”

bakugou huffs but it’s always give and take with you. “i was stupid and smart at the same time. smarter than everyone else but not as smart as i thought i was. got into trouble sneaking into other villages but mostly to just observe how other people lived. got into fights loads, couldn’t handle my own temper. my father was a soft chief, everyone wondered how i was his offspring but only because they never met my mother. she was everything.”

bakugou pauses. “i wish i could have met them,” you whisper.

“i wish you could’ve too,” then he grunts, “your turn.”

“i got into my fair share of fights too,”

“adorable.” you frown at your lover who still grins at you, “everythin’ you do is gonna be adorable to me. face it or leave.”

you put your hand in his face in defiance though he just kisses your palm.

“i loved studying and reading. sitting in with my father and his men. cooking with our servants but mostly eating. i was close to benji, he’d come with his father to alter and deliver new clothes. our parents would let us play together because they respected his father.” you shrug, “he didn’t know all of me even then. i never told him what i knew about raids because he always seemed too kind for that type of violence. he wouldn’t have understood.”

you look up and bakugou who’s hanging onto every word. “that’s why we do what we do. so our people don’t have to.”

you bite down on your lip and nod. he’s all warm and cosy, your new definition of home. you hold eye contact for as long as possible before his caramel scent drags you in for a kiss. at first it’s just a press of lips. connecting to one before you start shifting around on his lap. bringing one leg to the other side of his waist. chest to chest, legs around his waist. your centre pressed directly against his hardness.

you cock a brow and your handsome chief fiancé shrugs, “you’re beautiful and sittin’ on me.” and that’s enough of a reason.

you tighten your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist without a sliver of air inbetween. then lastly, your lips lock with open mouths. pants and moans and flicks of your hips. calloused hands rub your sides then over your ass, squeezing each cheek with just the right amount of pain that you sigh against his tongue. you’re sucking on him, tilting your head for the best angle as your hands grip at his shirt then his hair. your nipples harden and the friction against your underwear and his rough slacks has you feeling equal parts hopeless and hopeful yet completely needy.

“and people think you can’t fuckin’ handle me. wanna prove them wrong for me, princess?” his hand only leaves your ass to scrape his hair off his forehead and you’re mush for him.

you feel like the human version of unscrewing a tight jar of jam. before you get to dip your finger in the sweetness, you have the sweet release of simply opening the jar. the offer he gives to do anything to him. the pop has you straightening your spine and nodding.

“yes,” you sniff and you’re sure you must look like a kitten begging for a treat with blown out pupils. “lay back for me.”

bakugou does what he’s told, but not before yanking off his shirt and grabbing a pillow off the nearest chair to stuff it behind his head.

“is this my life now? wantin’ to murder anybody who looks at you?” his voice is a grumble laced with arousal as you shuffle to pull off the shirt you threw on earlier. back in your baby blue underwear. you decide to keep it on.

“only when they want to take me away from you,” you whisper, touching his jaw with the tips of your fingers and laying two pecks on his lips.

he’s greedy though, going in again for more.

“i can promise you that. nobody’s gonna be takin’ you away from me.” the words float between both your lips and the next kiss confirms it in a promise.

“good,” is all you remember to say. then, “don’t hate me, i want to try a new position.”

bakugou raises an eyebrow though lets you do as you please.

you rotate around so your back is to him and his length is right before you. you’re quick to shuffle down his trousers and he lifts his hips to help you.

“prefer seein’ your face,” he only mumbles because as much as that’s true he does enjoy your ass bouncing in his face.

you only laugh, your mouth is about to start watering any second. your husb— fiancé, is stunning. fucking everywhere. he’s leaking already, thick, hard and intimidating. you run your finger along a particularly hard vein. he twitches.

“babe, no.”

he’s stern like he’s reprimanding you but the way his hips lean into your touch tell a different story.

“shush katsuki,” is all you mumble as you slide your ass back so you’re sitting on his collarbones and you lean forward to take him all in your mouth.

it makes you sigh in relief. he’s only got his hands on your calves but him in your mouth makes you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. you never thought you’d become a woman who wants to please a man but you guess that was before you met bakugou.

“f—fuck,” he stutters and you can imagine his face right now. eyes clenched shut, biting down on his bottom lip and looking completely beautiful. “you’re so good to me baby.”

the praise has you rolling, literally. you bob your head up and down, just how he likes. it’s noisy and a little messy. sucking when you get to the top and hollowing out your cheeks. if he asks you won’t admit you’re doing this completely for yourself, maybe to prove you can handle him. the jolts of his hips down your throat. even the fact your gag reflex seems to disappear around him. a couple chokes here and there but nothing you can’t handle.

until two hands find your ass and your privates are against a wet warm tongue.

you pull him out your mouth immediately, your forehead landing on his hip. your hips aren’t yours anymore, grinding on your fiancé’s face for any bit of the golden pleasure that warms you.

“oh, oh,” is all you manage.

“keep my cock in your mouth or you’re not comin’,”

“mean,” a slap lands on your ass, “hey! i didn’t say no!”

then there’s a grunt before lips circle your clit, bakugou’s way of ending the conversation and you welcome it.

it’s loud and wet. loud mostly from you moaning on his dick and then him jolting every time you do. he doesn’t need to add any fingers since you’re doing more than perfectly fine every time his tongue traces your hole and prods inside.

you’re in heaven, everything that happened earlier completely forgotten. it’s nothing in this moment of time.

especially when bakugou, pulls your pussy off his face to breathe and warn you, “i’m gonna come, baby.” like you couldn’t tell already. you just push your hips back onto his face to silence him.

he huffs a laugh, “okay, okay.”

you keep your hand circled at his base, another lightly squeezing at his balls. you keep breathing out your nose as you do a particularly long suck just at the same time he does to your clit. you don’t need to announce you’re close too, he knows.

as soon as you release your jaw, he lets go. shooting down your throat which you completely lap up. bakugou grips each ass cheek harshly as he does, his mouth losing all meaning as he comes, hanging open stupidly.

that’s fine as him coming only makes you come. your body shaking as heat ripples through you.

“fuck,” he spits and when his mind starts to clear, he pushes two fingers inside of you.

you yelp in surprise, pulling him out your mouth, “oh my—,”

he jabs them in and out with a skill you don’t even possess on yourself. his fingers curl to rub against your walls and it all makes your orgasm grow. it attacks your body, making you unsure whether to push back onto him or run away.

you’re not in the right state to wipe your mouth as you make a sound you never knew you could.

it’s a mix between a squeak and scream before you roll out of his grip to lay beside him on the ground. chest heaving, sweaty with dried substances on your face. no better way to be.

bakugou sits up first to look down at you. he licks the corner of his thumb to clean up your face.

“missed your face,” he breathes and you genuinely believe him. three words said in a relieved exhale. “beautiful.”

you’re unsure why it makes you shy, especially after just having his dick down your throat. he ducks down to kiss you and you accept it immediately. you taste yourself on his tongue and you’re sure he tastes himself too.

“missed you too.” the only right thing to say at this moment.

“fuck, we’re so soppy,” he chuckles, refusing to look away from your eyes. it’s so intimate, his naked body beside you, his fingers finding yours and linking softly.

you hold his cheek in your palm, “don’t think i’ve forgotten about your arm. i’m going to tell sophie to get your doctor to come over tonight.”

your chief pouts. it’s a sight worth painting.

“fine. happy wife, happy life.”

“don’t you forget it.”

Thank you for the tag @dabihawksluva 🙌

Peach

shores, headbands, warm hugs, mugs, fruit baskets, blankets, sleeping cats. your essence is peach: you are a gentle, thorough heart who seeks to spread joy. you wish to create a home for others; you are the soil of the garden, hoping others will plant themselves and never leave. your thoroughness is always humble and you scarcely act alone. you are the tender. you are the homemaker. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of honey, marigold, cream, and apricot, who share your want to help others. you are also drawn to the efficient souls tawny and ashen, who will help you grow and stand on your own. however, you may struggle to get along with the shrewd personalities of lavender and honeysuckle who can be too quickly judgmental.

@dabixobsessed

yall pls take this what color is your aura quiz

terracotta

canyons, woven rugs, bandanas, pottery pieces, matchsticks, cattails, broken nails. your essence is terracotta: you are a building storm, autonomous and resolute. you build your walls strong; no one can see your vulnerabilities, not when you keep them within your rich internal life. you are disciplined and devoted to your friends, but rarely show them weakness in return. you are the guardian. you are the wolfdog. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of tawny, garnet, red, and brown, who share your strong resolve. you are also drawn to the open-minded souls mauve and honey, who will help you grow and show you that it is alright to be emotionally attached. however, you may struggle to get along with the withdrawn personalities of jade and chiffon who are self-doubting.

S.O.S | gojo satoru

when crash landing on a strange planet takes you to a different reality where the man you love is no longer the man that loves you

pairing. gojo satoru, fem!reader

genre. heavy angst, romance, sci-fi, space au, 18+

word count. tba, slow updates

fic tags & warnings. ooc, soldier!gojo, nurse!reader, cosmology & astrophysics, profanity, unrequited love, explicit smut, violence, blood, guns and other lethal weapons, war, emotional trauma, dehumanization, physical and emotional torture, major character death, + more to be added

playlist ✧ gallery ✧ misc

STAGE I. BEFORE THE ASCENT

ONE. REMNANTS OF WAR

TWO. CATASTROPHE

THREE. SIXTH COLONY

STAGE II. THE VOYAGE

FOUR. TO PROXIMA B

FIVE. GLIESE 581C

SIX. ON THE THEORY OF GENERAL RELATIVITY

STAGE III. INTO THE MULTIVERSE

SEVEN. SUPERCLUSTERS

EIGHT. INFINITE VOID

NINE. SUPERNOVA

TEN. SAVE OUR SOULS

all rights reserved © 2022 saintobio. please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

◇ Complete

◇ After five years together with Midoriya, you find yourself newly single and heartbroken. When he starts dating again, you shout a bold-faced lie to the universe that wraps you and Katsuki Bakugou together for better or worse. In order to save face, you need to work together with the grumpiest man on the planet.

◇ Verity (noun): The quality or state of being truthful or honest. Also your Hero Name to go along with your quirk of forcing others to tell the truth.

ProHero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader (Brief Midoriya x Reader)

◈ Pro Hero, Fake engagement

!!: angst, sex, cheating

◇ Chapter 1: It Starts With a Breakup

◇ Chapter 2: Life Goes On

◇ Chapter 3: Always Second Place

◇ Chapter 4: How Did It End Up Like This?

◇ Chapter 5: Dynamight and What’s-Her-Name

◇ Chapter 6 (18+): Fuck You

◇ Chapter 7: Leftovers

◇ Chapter 8: A Ring, a Red Carpet, and an Ex

◇ Chapter 9 (18+): Sex on the Beach

◇ Chapter 10: A Lie by Omission is Still a Lie

◇ Chapter 11: What is Love

◇ Chapter 12: The Truth Will Set You Free

◇ Epilogue

Tag List: @thatfanfictionwriter , @loving-katsuki , @dienamights , @katditca , @boosyboo9206 , @alex-sulli , @hypernovaxx , @daddyissxes , @ti-mame , @thekaylahub , @ms0milk , @nerd-nowandforever , @minninugget , @tiny-wooden-robot , @icedemon1314 , @xviternity , @naiomiwinchester , @lovinkiri , @sincerelyyrosemary , @abnormalanimeweeb , @satogg , @liberace2 , @acid-rain27 , @itgetzweird08 , @chaoticorganizedmess , @neurovascular-entrapta , @kiwiified , @bnha-free-writing , @fishbolw , @xxkay15xx , @zombiewarprincess , @izuwumidoriya , @blue-enigma , @mommy-without-milkers , @plaggi , @budibbly , @hiqhkey , @great-goddess-of-sin, @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory , @zyxys1 , @doonaandpjs , @chifuyus-slut , @aceredhairliberal , @dxrkdreamer , @archdag , @bakugospartner , @cxshmereclxud , @nuthonii, @sukisprint, @juneday-romanoff , @chixkadee , @hallothankmas ,

soft boyfriend headcanons with Gojo plez🥺

Gojo Satoru ! Boyfriend Headcanons

TW: tons of fluff ig, Set in a real-life au

fem reader

EARLY STAGES OF THE RELATIONSHIP

He’s not joking when he says it was love at first sight.

But, obviously, you brush him off as a total player.

Not convinced by his confession in the slightest, you reject him multiple times.

Like, come on… that’s the school’s number one pretty boy, known for having a new girl on his arm every other week or so. You have absolutely zero ambition of being one of them.

You laugh at all his silly gestures—dumb pick-up lines at parties, flowers, chocolates, and letters in your locker, flirty passerby compliments to and from in between classes. 

Oh, but then, cue the grandest of all gestures…

The public massive confession with banners, confetti, a lovesong in the background, and him with a megaphone in the middle of campus—professing his undying crush on you—down on both knees while begging you, “Please go out with me!”

You’ve never been more embarrassed in all your life. You feel like running away, but how could you say no in front of so many people?

And that’s how you end up on the first date with him.

He takes you to an amusement park.

You haven’t been in ages. It feels strange to be there on a date, older than any of the other kids you see running around with stressed parents on their heels.

It feels like a prank is being pulled. You’re waiting for the pig’s blood to fall. But halfway through, you somehow end up forgetting all about it.

To your surprise, Gojo actually seems like quite a genuine guy.

Sure, he’s more charm and flirt than deep conversation, but… you don’t know… there’s something really amazing about him too…

He doesn’t do anything inappropriate. 

The farthest he goes is holding your hand when pulling you along to the next rollercoaster. And asks to have a taste of your ice cream. He tells you that you have to name the plushie he won for you, Satoru—then pokes fun at how he tricked you into finally calling him by his first name.

It's funny, but you’d always thought Satoru was a pigheaded jerk, but it turns out he’s actually just a silly boy.

And there’s something really endearing about it.

It scares you at first—how fast and easily you fell in love with him.

You hadn’t wanted to—scared he’d drop you like he’d done all those other girls who came before you.

But then you find out—he hasn’t really dated anyone at all—all rumors made by those obsessed with him.

Sure, he’s been confessed to plenty of times, but he’s not about to jump into a relationship with girls he’s never even seen before.

That would be crazy.

“In all honesty, girls like that kinda scare me…”

You realize your perception of Gojo Satoru couldn’t have been any more wrong.

And you only stand to be corrected again and again the more you get to know him better.

He’s the boy version of “I’m not like other girls”

He doesn’t like meat, he likes sweets—for every meal. It’s concerning. 2 am convenience store runs are a constant occurrence with him. It’s a wonder he’s got the body he has—it’s that boy metabolism.

At parties, he doesn’t drink beer, he’ll drink little syrupy things instead. Oh, and jello shots. If they’re all gone, bet that most of than are in Gojo’s stomach.

But he doesn’t need to be drunk to be clingy and cuddly and needy and not afraid to show it. However, he does get sloppier after drinking—all but draping you with his entire weight, kissing any part of you he can get his lips on.

He confesses his love for you every day, hugs you every time he sees you, then whines about how he’s missed you—even when it’s just been a handful of hours since the last time you saw each other.

When Geto tells the two of you to get a room, Satoru only looks at him sourly and sticks his tongue out—blowing raspberries like a child.

And probably the most surprising…

He loves anime and manga.

Which isn’t really too much of a surprise in and of itself, only… you didn’t realize the extent of his love. In fact, it’s better called an obsession.

He isn't a cool guy at all...

He's a total nerd!

The first time you see his dorm room—it’s a total mess!

Manga literally litters the floor and bed, even the tall bookshelf he has is prop full.

What’s even more surprising is that Shonen Jump isn’t in the majority. No, it’s Shōjo.

He tells you his favorite anime is Ouran High School Host Club and insists you watch it with him. 

He sings the entire intro almost every single time—sometimes even the outro.

He says he identifies with the main character—which he obviously feels is Tamaki.

“You’d make a cute Haruhi, though—we should cosplay for Halloween~”

And he’s not even joking. He’s bought the costumes before you even agree.

Of course, no one understands who the two of you are supposed to be—dressed in the same school uniforms like two twins.

You also discover his harbored hatred for horror manga. Junji Ito gives him nightmares.

Though you managed to get him to read Death Note after pushing it on him for months.

He’s so cute—his only takeaway isn’t about the juxtaposing philosophies or any of the moral dilemmas but how “Suguru is so Light, and I’m definitely L.”

You find he’ll always do that—dib characters, almost always the main one.

It's a habit that reminds you of childhood, but it seems more than instinctual for Satoru. You don’t think he’ll ever grow out of it.

When he tells you he wants to be a teacher, you look at him with moon-big eyes.

He’s never seemed any interested in school—his grades are subpar, if not worse.

He never studies. There are no textbooks or the like on his desk, just more figurines and comics, as well as a dusty gaming station.

But when you take a second to think about it, the more it actually makes sense.

He's strangely great with kids. The girls all squeal over his charm, while the boys all cheer over his coolness.

You tell him he’ll be a great teacher, and he proposes to you on the spot.

SOME TIME INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

Obviously, you didn’t marry him back then. But you did finally accept being his girlfriend.

You live together now. Which is nice—not so different from living with your best friend.

Movie nights with candy and drinks—you’ve managed to sway him over to enjoy whine.

Rearranging things at home on a whim—often ending with a stupid layout—couch in the kitchen, where it will stay for a couple of days before you both find the energy to move it back.

You go shopping together and often end up buying things that don’t at all fit with the rest of the stuff at home—artwork, pillows, silly little decorations you just couldn’t leave the store without.

You share a lot of clothes too—hoodies, shirts, sweaters. Which he just loves.

He’s always gushing over you when you wear something he wore the day before.

He’s an ok cook. He can make the basics—wok, curry, ramen. His onigiri is never anything to post about, but hey, at least he actually cooks!

The clean-up is well… never small.

It doesn’t help that he’s always so sleepy after a proper meal, he just tugs you along to bed without putting the washer on.

Sleeping with you in his arms—all limbs tangled around you.

It’s funny, but you’d think with such a clingy lover-boy like Satoru, he’d come with a side of jealousy, but truly, you’ve never ever once seen that shade on him.

He’s excellent with all your friends and colleagues, even old friends and boyfriends you run into.

Instead of jealousy, he has this air of total ease—a certain smugness in a sense—as if there is nothing to worry about.

It's a trust that he puts in you—a quality that makes him seem so mature even when he often acts anything but.

Being with Satoru is strange. You often forget how old the two of you are. Somehow, he still acts the same way he did when he was in high school.

Taking you on amusement park dates, or to the movies to watch a children's film, or for ice cream in the park like you’re still teenagers.

He did end up becoming a teacher, though. Gojo Sensei.

Sometimes, he makes you call him that in the bedroom.

He teaches at the same high school you went to. He even brought home a girl’s uniform for you to wear.

You told him he was crazy if he thought you’d agree to that, but then… it was his only birthday wish. 

“You’re just as cute as you were back then—I can’t believe you’ve stuck with me all this time—I love you so much—”

Ten years older, and he really hasn’t aged much at all... 

Sometimes, he still cums in his pants after dry-humping.

Surprisingly, he really pulled his act together to teach both physics and gymnastics while sometimes subbing for philosophy.

It’s crazy, but he actually manages to make physics fun for the students. Several of them, even after graduation, still keep in touch.

It almost feels like the two of you already have kids.

But, of course, it’s nothing compared to when you actually see those two blue lines signaling your pregnancy.

You’re alone in the bathroom, rereading the instructions over and over. 

You hadn’t wanted to tell Satoru—he’d only insist on watching you pee and being there for the entirety of it. But now that you know for certain it wasn’t just a hunch, you really wished he was in there with you.

“TORU!” you yell.

You hear the struggle of slippery steps as he rushes, coming bursting inside in seconds. “What!?! What is it?! Are you okay?!?”

You only hold up the pregnancy test you’d kept secret you’d bought.

His eyes are as wide as they’d been when you’d agreed to move in with him.

“We’re pregnant?” he all but cheers.

The smile that erupts on his face is nothing short of ecstatic as he kneels before the toilet you’re sitting on, hands holding your thighs as he buries his face between them, chanting “Oh my god, ohmygod, omigod—” between kisses. “You’re serious? We’re really pregnant?”

When he looks up, he’s crying. “That’s so great—”

You have to cup his face in your hands for him not to fall apart.

And the sight is all so reassuring, you have to laugh through the tears on your own face.

You spent the entire day in bed. Satoru with his cheek against your belly and arms wrapped around you, and you with your hands running through his hair as you both discuss baby names.

Surprisingly, it had come as a complete surprise. Not just being pregnant, but the entire gist of it—having kids. 

Both of you have been so wrapped up in each other for the longest time—the thought of any other party had been completely lost.

On the other hand, you haven’t even gotten married yet.

Satoru doesn’t even have a ring, but he proposes to you then anyway.

And even though it’s so impromptu you have to laugh, you still say yes.

After all, you haven’t been able to imagine your life without Satoru for a long time.

Actually, you can’t even remember ever living a life without him.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

ma’am i only found your blog yesterday but your ex hubby bakugo got me in a trance, and i hsjsksksksksk, but ill present you: ‘drunk ex husband bakugo’ i- i mean he would be so silly and calls you at 1am to tell you how much he loves you and the little one and how much he misses you, babbles away all the nonsense else, but the way he murmurs and mumbles silly things on the phone got you giggle at midnight (and sad at the time because holy hell you miss him too), then you have to talk him out of it to go home and sleep, he listens, he goes home, yeah, and 10 minutes later he shows up at your front door (still hella woozy) because he is just that stupidly drunk and he has always wanted to go home to you :((

ANON ??? OUCH ????? THIS MAKES ME SAD AKFJSODHAIA

i've always wanted to do drunk ex-whathaveyou bakugou that shows up at your door too late 🥺 but in this instance !! i feel like. you get a few calls in the middle of the night, but they're very short ?? like you wake up to your phone ringing and it's his number, so you're reaching for it, but it stops before you can answer. and you're thinking, "darn i must have slept through the first few rings," and as you're typing out a text to check in with him, he calls again for like two rings, and then it stops. and then he calls and it rings for one and then it stops.

and so now you're like — okay maybe he's butt-dialing me LOL but he tries again like 20 minutes later and you're so tired of the ring-tone that you answer it as fast as you can and just listen, waiting to see if you can hear his voice distantly, as if you're down in his back-pocket.

but he grumbles, "—the fuck? hello?"

and you ask him, "uh hey, have you been trying to call me?" but you're almost certain he doesn't hear you, because half-way through you are able to hear the loud background music and then the sound of shuffling, his grumpy lil "—the fuck off me, 'm—shut th'hell up—'m on the DAMN PHONE!"

clearly, there's a struggle, so you just kind of wait, worried you're about to hear your ex-husband get nerfed while on patrol maybe ?? but then the music drops away and is replaced by a barely-there scratchy wind, and he's breathless when he asks if you're still there.

"yeah, no, i'm still here. is...everything okay?"

he huffs, so heavy into the phone that the static almost hurts your ears. "whadda'you think?"

it's bitter enough that you blink in the darkness of your room, before glaring at the opposite wall. "excuse me?"

"fuck, 'm sorry, i—fuck." he inhales audibly, stuttering. "i'm sorry."

you frown, head turning; he sounds lazy, like he can't be assed to speak properly, and he's speaks impolitely on the regular — but it's never this bad. all his words sound curved, looped together, and he's shuffling too much on the other end, sniffing loud and mumbling to himself. almost like he's—

"are you...drunk?"

you're expecting an immediate no, even if evidence is proving otherwise, because he's not a drinker. occasionally, when he's out for dinner or at one of kirishima's backyard barbecues, but it's so infrequent that his tolerance is low, for someone of his size. it doesn't take much to have him a little sloshed, and he hates it, not only for the feeling the day after, but because his mouth tends to run. more than usual.

"it's that fuckin'—dunce head ass 'n his—stupid piano teeth, tape-face—"

kaminari and sero, you think. you think.

"'n i didn't want to fuckin' come to shit like this, ever. because they're so 'blah fuckin' blah, get over yourself', as if i'm—whatever. dumbasses." he pauses, and before you can finish piecing together what he's trying to say, he continues. "'n i'm not even like them, because they're fucking losers, and i don't—i don't even want that chick's number, okay? i don't fuckin' care, okay?"

your heart throbs dangerously, suddenly swollen and too tender, at the very thought of him and someone else, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut tight. "bakugou—"

"bakugou?" he cuts you off loudly, offended. "'r'you fuckin'—sorry, shit. bakugou? you're a goddamn bakugou—"

you have the throw the blankets off your lap so that you can hurry to your bedroom door, to shut it before hissing at him. "i'm not gonna sit here and get cussed out, katsuki. we're divorced."

"sorry! fuck, i'm—i mean—sorry, sorry. 'm not—it ain't at you, y'know? you know that, right?"

and you do. you do know that. it's just how he talks, he would tell you, and he would cut down on it for a little while before it inevitably came back and — it just hurts, at times. to be on the receiving end of his hottest flame.

"yeah," you tell him quietly, leaning against the door when he sighs. "yeah, i know."

"she—" he groans, deep and frustrated. "she fuckin'—god, sorry. she did that t'me all th'time, y'know? 'cut the fuckin' attitude, katsuki,' 'n then fuckin' SMACK!" you can hear the sharp sound of his slap, metallic, like he's against a lamp post or something. "but then she's comin' up t'my room, all like, 'y'know i love you' 'n—how 'm i suppos' t'know that stuff?"

he's never really spoken about his childhood; his parents, yes, through comments here and there about how they irritated him, but nothing serious. you've seen firsthand how tumultuous his relationship with his mother is, and she still smacks him around, but he's big now, much bigger than she is; you never considered what it was like for him, when he was younger.

even if he is drunk, even if he won't remember tomorrow — you still want to be there for him.

you realize he's waiting for an answer, with how long he's quiet, and you shrug to yourself before gently saying, "i don't know, katsuki. it sounds like it would have been very confusing."

"yeah, i mean—" he exhales slowly, though the end trails off into a growl, as if he's grown frustrated again. "i would never fuckin' hit you."

"i know that, katsuki, and i've never thought you would. and i would never hit you, either, y'know?"

"yeah," he repeats, and you can hear him swallowing, the sound so thick that you think he might choke. "i'd never hit you, or—or—hey, where is he? i wanna talk to 'im."

at the mention of your son, you peek down the hall to make sure his door isn't open, that he's not snooping around like you've caught him doing lately — but it's still mostly closed, and you don't hear any little feet against the hardwood.

you squint at your phone, blinded momentarily at the blue-light as you check the time. "it's the middle of the night, katsuki, he's asleep."

"did he have a good day?"

"yeah, he—"

"tell me about it. tell me th-the whole thing."

and — you do, as he listens and grunts and murmurs little things you don't catch. occasionally, he'll groan, really quiet like he's trying not to cry, and it's after the third time he asks to speak to him again that you finally decide to call him an uber.

and you put in his home address !!! but not thirty minutes later, you are sort of roused out of sleep because he's lightly knocking on your door, in the middle of the night, and you have to get up and go check so he doesn't wake your son up !!!!

and he's probably a MESS, all red-faced and SAD, rubbing at his eyes, almost tripping into your house because he was leaning against the door. it's not even worth arguing about getting him to his actual home because it's late and he's being a little loud, so you just give him some water and make him lay down on the couch and — he's out like a light right away LOL

but. you wake up a few hours later to him laying in your bed, on top of the blankets, his pants are on the floor but his shirt and jacket are still on LOL and he's not quite touching you, but if you jostle even a little bit, his face will press into your back 🥺 you don't know when he got up and came into your room, but he was sober enough to be quiet about it, and when you wake up in the morning, he's already re-dressed and sitting with your son at the kitchen table 🥺

WAAAAHHH i made this so sad. i'm so sorry akjfajfajaljfa he's such a BABY !!! god help me, bc if it really was me, i would take him back in a heartbeat LOL