#and look for the most basic snacks you can get

[hearts4pbaz]

I'll Fold You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Words: 5.3K

Warnings: sexual content‼️

Synopsis: Girlfriends, teammates, and now rivals in a very intense bet. When their teammates tease that they can’t go a week without sex, Paige and Azzi make a bet: whoever physically initiates sex first loses.

Notes: i really like how this turned out. this was my first time writing smut, so lmk how it is. your comments or much appreciated

It started on a random Thursday night, like most stupid ideas do. The mood in the shared Bueckers-El Alfy-Ziebell apartment was lazy—empty take-out boxes and snacks strewn around the living room—Ice and KK having come over nearly two hours ago. Azzi, too, if basically living there, still counts as coming over. She was now cuddled up to Paige, the older girl’s hand resting on the caramel skin hidden under Azzi’s hoodie.

“Bro, y’all are disgusting,” Jana said, mouth full of Takis, wagging a red-stained finger at the couple. “Why Paige always got her hand in your hoodie, Azzi? You cold or she just feel up them titties?”

Paige smirked and didn’t move her hand. “Can’t a girl cuddle her girl in peace?”

“No, Jana’s right, y’all act like you ain’t seen each other in years and not five minutes,” Ice added, chuckling from the floor. “I bet y’all can’t go 24 hours without makin’ out.”

Azzi blushed but didn’t back down. “Jealousy isn’t a good color on you Ice,” she quipped.

“Oh, please,” KK chimed in. “Y’all so wrapped up in each other, if one of you leaves the room for longer than five minutes, the other one gets withdrawal symptoms. It’s sick.”

Jana leaned forward, dramatically. “Nah, forreal. Y’all wouldn’t last a week without touching. Without sex? Pfft. Two days. Max.”

Paige looked at Azzi. Azzi looked at Paige. A beat passed.

“You tryna bet?” Paige raised a brow, already grinning like she won.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “On what?”

“Whoever goes the longest without physically initiating sex wins. First one to cave—loses.”

Jana’s eyes widened. “Ooooh, this is about to be good.”

Azzi held out her hand. Paige shook it firmly. “Deal. Winner gets to have the loser do whatever they want.”

The first 24 hours were fine. Surprisingly easy, even. They’d gone a day without having sex. It was just what being a DI athlete entailed. They kept their usual routine—classes, workouts, film, naps. No biggie. They still slept in the same bed, on the logic that nothing can happen while they’re sleeping, and, sure, their backs were turned like enemies, but they were good. They were fine.

By day two, though? The bet turned into a different beast. 

Azzi tugged her practice jersey off and tried not to look over. Paige was two lockers down, shirtless, abs glistening slightly from sweat, talking with KK about a drill from earlier.

Azzi swallowed hard and focused on unlacing her shoes.

“You good, Az?” Ice asked.

“Fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

Paige caught that.

“Oh, by the way, Az,” she said casually. “You left your sports bra in my laundry again. Wanna come get it later? Or should I bring it to your room… still warm.”

Azzi didn’t even flinch. “You touchin’ my laundry now? Sounds like an invite to me.”

“Someone’s hopeful,” Paige grinned. “But, nah, not an invite, just tryin’ to be helpful.”

Azzi leaned in close, whispering just loud enough. “Tryin’ to be slick.”

Ice, a witness to the interaction, quickly made her way out of the locker room. Mutter something along the lines of, “Y’all still nasty, even when you’re not fucking.”

Later that afternoon, Paige limped into the training room and let out a long, dramatic groan. “Yo, my quads feel like I got tackled by a bus.”

“You always complainin',” KK said, already halfway into the ice bath.

Azzi, already in one of the tubs across the room, raised a brow. “You coming in or just gonna monologue from the door?”

Paige stripped down to her sports bra and compression shorts and slid in with a hiss. “God, this is the worst good idea ever.”

Azzi smirked. “Should I come help you relax?”

Paige turned to her with narrowed eyes. “Ma’am… that is sexual harassment.”

“Oh, now you care about boundaries?”

KK cackled from the corner. “Y’all are disgusting at every temperature.”

“Don’t be mad just ’cause no one wanna flirt with you in an ice tub,” Paige shot back.

Azzi leaned her arms on the edge of her tub, watching Paige with a lazy smile. “You need help warming up after this?”

“Yeah...I’m good,” Paige muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Dinner that night was meant to be chill—just the team and food, glued together by their newfound trauma over Coach’s new conditioning routine. But of course, Paige and Azzi couldn’t help themselves. They sat across from each other, tension thick between them even as they passed around breadsticks.

“You know,” Paige said, stabbing her salad with her fork. “I read somewhere carbs make you more... affectionate.”

“Pretty sure you made that up,” Azzi replied without looking up from her pasta.

“Prove I didn’t.”

Azzi calmly reached for her water and took a slow sip. “Maybe I will. Later.”

KK slams her fork down. “Can y’all stop talking like y’all in a Netflix romcom with a TV-14 rating? Damn.”

Jana nodded. “Y’all got the whole table third-wheeling.”

Ice pushed her plate away. “I can’t eat when Paige is out here tryin’ to seduce a girl over linguine.”

“I’m just vibin’,” Paige said with a shrug, eyes locked on Azzi. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

Azzi smirked. “You ain’t slick, Bueckers.”

“Neither are you, Fudd.”

Later that night in Paige’s room, they went through their normal bedtime routine—brushing teeth, skincare, scrolling TikTok side by side. Like normal. Totally normal.

Paige flopped onto her bed in an oversized tee, pulling the blanket up to her chin like she needed protection. Azzi turned off the main light and climbed into bed with her, placing a pillow between them, humming something soft under her breath.

After a few minutes of silence, Paige peeked over.

“You cold?”

“Nope.”

“...I could warm you up.”

Azzi turned, grinning in the dark. “Is that you initiating?”

“I’m offering... services,” Paige replied. “Like a heated blanket. No strings.”

Azzi laughed quietly. “Nice try.”

They both lay in silence, tension practically crackling in the air.

Paige groaned into her pillow. “This is hell.”

Azzi rolled over. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Night, Azzi.”

A beat.

“I still hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

The next day, Azzi put Paige to the test. 

“You guys have to stop using me as your free Uber driver whenever you want to go out,” Paige chided, dragging her feet through the parking lot.

“And yet you agree every time we ask,” KK said.  “Also, we gotta see how long you and Azzi can go without jumpin’ each other in public.”

Azzi smirked as they walked into Aritzia, already plotting.

After twenty minutes of half-hearted browsing, Azzi walked into a fitting room, form-fitting, satin dress in hand.

A few minutes later, she poked her head out of the fitting room, eyes flitting to Paige sitting with KK and Ice on one of the couches, “I need you,” she said innocently. “It won’t zip.”

KK’s jaw dropped. “Oh, she dirty.”

“Yo, that’s a trap,” Ice whispered.

Paige stood up off the couch like a moth to a flame anyway.

Inside the tiny fitting room, Azzi, back to Paige, had the dress on, the zipper halfway up.

“Can you—?” she said, looking over her shoulder to meet Paige’s eyes.

Paige gulped. The curve of Azzi’s back was criminal, too muscular for its own good, if you ask Paige.

“Y’know I ain’t losin’ to you,” Paige muttered as she slowly zipped it up, fingers grazing skin like it didn’t matter.

Azzi sucked in, face close. “Then don’t.”

They stared at each other for one long, loaded second.

“Y’all good in there?” Jana called out.

Both jumped like the walls were wired.

After the fitting room debacle, the group made their way out of Aritzia and started strolling through the mall, half window shopping, half people watching.

Ice spotted a Build-A-Bear and dragged KK toward it with an excited “Broooo we makin’ twins.”

Paige and Azzi trailed behind, walking just a little too close.

They stepped onto the escalator, Paige in front, Azzi behind her.

It started innocently. Then Azzi leaned forward, breath just brushing Paige’s ear.

“I didn’t even ask if you liked the dress.”

Paige gripped the rail tightly. “You tryin’ to kill me in public?”

Azzi smirked. “Just wanted your opinion. You were... quiet in there.”

“That was survival silence.”

“Mmhmm.”

As they reached the top, Paige muttered, “Next time I’m zipping you up blindfolded.”

Azzi leaned back, satisfied. “You’d miss.”

Paige looked like she wanted to respond, but decided living was more important.

The girls regrouped at the food court. KK and Ice were hyped about their new stuffed bears, one of which wore a UConn jersey made of cut-up socks. (“Look at the drip,” KK said. “Bear’s better dressed than Ice.”)

Meanwhile, Paige and Azzi stood in line for pretzels, doing their best to act normal, which was getting harder by the hour.

“You want cinnamon or regular?” Paige asked, staring straight ahead.

“Cinnamon,” Azzi said. “You always eat mine anyway.”

Paige snorted. “Lies.”

“You literally stole the last bite last time and said it was ‘your prize for being the better shooter.’”

“That was a fair tax.”

They got their pretzels and sat with the others, chewing in tense silence. Paige took a bite, turned to say something smart, and locked eyes with Azzi, who already had her finger in her mouth, licking cinnamon sugar off it like she didn’t know what she was doing.

Paige dropped her pretzel.

“Y’all see that?” Ice said, eyes wide. “Paige blinked like three times in a row. She glitchin’.”

Azzi looked innocent. “Something wrong?”

Paige looked down at the table as if it had personally offended her. “Nope. Just... hot pretzel.”

KK leans over to Ice. “These two gon’ combust before day five, I’m callin’ it now.”

On the drive back, Paige took the aux cord. She had one rule: vibe control.

But Azzi, sitting up front now, leaned over and subtly skipped every song Paige played after thirty seconds.

“What are you doing?” Paige asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m curating the mood.”

Paige scoffed. “You tryin’ to sabotage the mood.”

“Oh, I’m setting one. You just don’t like not being in charge.”

Paige turned down the volume. “Keep it up, Fudd. I’ll put on Baby Shark and blast it.”

“I dare you.”

“You think I won’t ruin everybody’s night with children’s YouTube core?”

“I hope you do,” Azzi said with a smirk. “Because that’s when I’ll know I’ve won.”

KK groaned from the backseat. “Ayo. I don’t care who wins. Just don’t punish us.”

Ice added, “Y’all’s sexual tension got GPS rerouting us to hell.”

Paige cracked a smile, then hit play on “Love Language” by SZA.

Azzi just leaned her head against the window, humming along with the lyrics.

And Paige gripped the steering wheel like it was a flotation device.

Tomorrow was going to be hell.

The fourth day starts at 6 a.m. sharp with team conditioning. Spirits were low. Knees were sore. The gym smelled like effort and regret. Azzi walked in late, hair up in a messy bun, rocking the tightest pair of leggings Paige had ever seen.

Paige tripped over a foam roller.

“Damn, P,” KK said, laughing. “What, the floor attack you?”

“She good?” Ice asked.

“I’m fine,” Paige grunted, shooting Azzi a glare.

Azzi just gave a polite, confused smile like she didn’t know her whole outfit was a psychological assault.

During suicides, Paige caught herself watching the way Azzi moved two steps ahead. After the third glance, she slapped herself in the face.

Ice, jogging beside her, side-eyed. “Yo… what is wrong with you?”

“Shin splints.”

“That’s your face.”

“Mind yo business.”

Later that afternoon in the weight room, the girls were spotting each other for bench press. Azzi sat on the nearby bench, sipping from her water bottle and watching Paige push through a heavy set.

“You good?” she asked sweetly. “You look like you’re struggling.”

“I’m not struggling,” Paige grunted, arms shaking. “I’m dominating.”

Azzi stood up and walked over, a towel over her shoulder. “Need a spot?”

“Nope,” Paige said through clenched teeth.

“You sure? I’m great with my hands.”

KK, at the squat rack, nearly choked on her protein shake.

Azzi backed off with a smirk and returned to her bench. Paige stared up at the ceiling like she needed divine strength.

That evening before the movie night, they all met in the study lounge for mandatory study hall. Paige sat at a table, headphones in, trying to finish an essay. Azzi slid into the seat beside her, placed her laptop down… and then kicked her shoes off.

Paige noticed. Paige definitely noticed.

Then Azzi did the unthinkable—stretched her leg out, bare foot sliding juuust close enough under the table that Paige flinched.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Azzi asked innocently.

“Why are you like this?”

“I’m studying. You’re the one looking at my feet.”

“You put ‘em in my zone.”

“This your foot territory now?”

Paige stood up so fast her chair squeaked.

“Going to the bathroom,” she muttered, walking off.

Jana, across the room, didn’t even look up from her notebook. “Y’all weird.”

And lo and behold, on the fourth day, Azzi showed up to Paige’s room in Paige’s UConn hoodie and no pants.

“Seriously?” Paige asked, eyeing her bare thighs.

“I was cold,” Azzi said, settling on the couch beside her. “Thought maybe we could cuddle.”

Paige sat as far away as the couch would allow. “Then maybe try putting on some pants. You really tryna win, huh?”

Azzi just smiled sweetly. “I’m not doing anything,” climbing into Paige’s bed.

They watched Love & Basketball in tense silence. Paige kept stealing glances. Azzi definitely noticed.

Halfway through, Azzi stretched like a cat, her leg brushing Paige’s.

“You good?” Paige asked, voice hoarse.

“Great,” Azzi said, all innocence. “Just comfy.”

The pair fell asleep before the movie was over, still careful not to be touching.

Paige woke up warm. Too warm.

Sunlight crept through her blinds, and her brain was just starting to come online when she realized:

Azzi. Was. Cuddling. Her.

Correction—they were cuddling. Tangled. Entwined. Azzi’s leg was hooked over her thigh, an arm slung across her stomach like it belonged there, face tucked into Paige’s neck. The pillow that once separated them discarded at the foot of the bed.

Paige didn’t move at first. Her brain was short-circuiting. Warning sirens were going off internally, screaming DANGER and WEAKNESS DETECTED.

Azzi stirred against her, nuzzling in with a sleepy sigh. “Mmm... comfy.”

Paige flinched like the word physically hit her.

“Az,” she said, hoarse. “You’re cheating.”

Azzi didn’t open her eyes. “I’m sleeping.”

“You came in here pantless. You knew what you were doing.”

Azzi cracked one eye open and looked up, voice barely a whisper. “I can leave.”

She moved slightly, just enough that her thigh grazed between Paige’s legs.

Paige actually whimpered. God. Five days no sex was really starting to get to her physically.

“Nope,” she blurted, arm tightening instinctively. “Stay.”

Azzi’s grin was slow, smug, and victorious. “Mmhm. That’s what I thought.”

By some miracle, Paige had made it through the day without spontaneously combusting. Barely.

Classes. Study hall. A team meeting that dragged on forever. Paige buried herself in busy work, headphones in, hoodie up, eyes down. Anything to stay out of Azzi’s gravitational pull.

But Azzi didn’t make it easy.

In the locker room after their lift, Paige spotted her out of the corner of her eye—in just a sports bra and shorts, fresh from the shower, moisture still clinging to her abs. She looked like she belonged in a body wash commercial and a fever dream at the same time.

Paige audibly gulped.

“You okay?” Ice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” Paige snapped.

Ice leaned in. “She walk by again?”

Paige didn’t say anything. Which was its own answer.

That night, the team had a little game night. Azzi showed up to kill—this time in tiny sleep shorts and that same damn hoodie Paige always let her borrow.

KK clocked it immediately. “She tryna finish the job,” she whispered to Ice. “That’s the closer fit.”

Paige tried not to look. Tried.

They played Uno. Azzi sat across from her with her legs stretched out, bare thigh brushing Paige’s shin under the table every time she “accidentally” shifted.

“You’re cheating,” Paige muttered when Azzi drew four and placed her card down with a smirk.

Azzi batted her lashes. “I’m playing to win.”

“I meant the game. And life. And this damn bet.”

Azzi gave a knowing shrug, sipping her Gatorade like it was tea. “Maybe you should’ve folded yesterday.”

Later that night, Paige walked into her room and immediately stopped in the doorway.

Azzi was already there. Sitting in her bed. Scrolling on her phone like she owned the place. Lights low. A candle lit on the desk. Hoodie still on. No pants in sight.

Paige closed the door slowly. “You’re not even pretending anymore.”

Azzi looked up. “It’s your bed.”

“And you’re in it.”

“I figured we made it through the day. Thought I’d stay over like usual.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Like usual? Az, we’re at war.”

Azzi patted the blanket beside her. “Truce for the night?”

Paige hovered. “This is how you kill me.”

Azzi shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You are something.”

That made Azzi smirk. “You gonna sleep on the floor?”

Paige stared at the ceiling. Then exhaled hard like she was being dragged to her doom. “No. I’m gonna regret this in five minutes.”

She slid under the covers, keeping a respectable distance.

Azzi didn’t say anything. Just turned, facing her. Quiet. Calm. A killer in disguise.

Minutes passed. Paige pretended to scroll. Azzi yawned.

Then… Azzi scooted just an inch closer. Their legs touched. Bare skin against bare skin.

Paige flinched. “Az.”

“Hm?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

Azzi blinked, the picture of innocence. “I’m cold.”

“Lie better.”

“I could take the hoodie off instead.”

“Please don’t.”

Another beat of silence.

Then Azzi whispered, “You still holding on?”

Paige was breathing heavier now, eyes on the ceiling like it could save her.

“Barely.”

Azzi leaned in, lips just barely avoiding Paige’s jaw.

“You don’t have to.”

Paige snapped her head to face her.

And that was it.

Paige kissed her. Hard. Five days of tension—five days of wanting—five days of holding back finally spilling out. Her hands came up, cupping Azzi’s jaw as she nibbled down on the older girl’s bottom lip, swiping her tongue over it. 

Azzi let out a noise low in her throat. And it made Paige feel like she’d been lit on fire. Paige’s lips moved down to Azzi’s jaw and neck as she threw one leg over Azzi’s hips, straddling her, laying them both down on the bed.

Paige’s hands were just about to slide under Azzi’s hoodie when she spoke up, Paige freezing above her, “Ah, not so fast. I won, which means I get to have you do anything I want.”

“And that is…?” Paige questioned breathlessly, clearly not understanding the implications of Azzi’s current power.

Wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, lifting herself to meet her ear, Azzi whispered, “All you have to do is behave. Just listen to what I tell you to do while I’m fucking you with the strap.”

Azzi’s comment made Paige sit up, “Azzi, no. No way am I being fucked by you.”

“A bet’s a bet, Paigey,” she leaned in closer, lowering her voice again, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Paige sighed, “Fine, it’s in the closet, the orange Nike shoe box.”

Azzi smiled, leaning down to plant a peck on Paige’s lips before jumping off the bed, making her way over to the closet. 

Paige flopped down on her back, staring at the ceiling, a twinge of something bordering excitement settling low in her stomach. 

Azzi returned, tossing the toy on the bed, moving to straddle her legs on top of Paige. She looks down at the older girl, fingers coming to fiddle with Paige's hoodie strings, “I’ll only do this if you're actually okay with it, and you say the word and I’ll stop,” she hums.

Paige didn’t say anything at first, she just looked up at Azzi, eyes wide, and then lifted her head to plant a peck on the brunette’s lips, “Okay,” she says softly.

A small smile played on Azzi’s lips,” Great,” she chimed before connecting both their lips. The kiss was tender and soft, letting the heat build between them naturally. Azzi’s hands travelled down to the hem of Pagie’s hoodie, pulling her up to sitting, tugging it over her head, then tossing it to the floor beside her. Paige’s sports bra quickly followed, leaving her only in the sweatpants hanging low on her hips and the pair of boxers peaking out of the waistband of her sweats.

Paige lay back down, her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow as Azzi adjusted herself on top of her. Azzi began to trail kisses downward, stopping at the junction of Paige’s neck sucking the spot above her collarbone, before running her tongue along the area, continuing her minstrations further south.

Her mouth then came to Paige’s breasts, lips closing around one nipple, one hand moving to cup the other. She dragged her tongue and thumb over the pebbled buds, making Paige inhale sharply, throwing her head back. 

Azzi then travelled over to the valley between Paige’s breasts, resting her chin there momentarily, looking up at the blonde, she whispered, “You’re so pretty like this, all laid out f’me.”

Paige didn’t respond, instead, she threw an arm over her face in an attempt to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. Warmth pooled low in her stomach.

Azzi’s mouth moved lower, eventually coming to the patch of skin directly below Paige’s navel and directly above the waistband of her sweatpants. Azzi looked up at Paige, silently looking for permission to take off the last of the blonde’s clothing. 

Paige met Azzi’s eyes, her own pleading and glassy, and nodded her head, “Please,” she breathed.

With that, Azzi wasted no time, quickly tugging the offending article away from Paige’s legs, discarding it in the same way she did with her hoodie and sports bra. Pants now off, Paige was left in just a pair of light blue boxers, which had a very visible wet patch growing at their center.

“God, you’re soaked already, baby, and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Azzi purred, breath ghosting over the damp fabric.

Paige shivered, “Azzi, please, I need you,” she whined.

“What did you want, pretty? My fingers? My mouth? Use your words.”

“F–fingers. I want your fingers,” Paige stuttered out. 

“Okay,” Azzi said softly, running her fingers up over the dark patch of Paige’s underwear to the waistband. Paige squirmed, hissing out a breath. Then, Azzi hooked her fingers under the elastic, pulling them down, leaving Paige fully exposed. 

Now having Paige completely bare, Azzi moved back upward to make eye contact with the older girl, holding herself above her with her left arm as her right reached down. With one finger, she dragged through Paige’s folds, collecting warm slick on her finger. 

A small gasp slipped from Paige’s lips, closing her eyes, she tipped her head back.

Just then, Azzi’s hand came up from Paige’s core to her chin, tugging her head back, “I want you to look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”

Azzi dragged her hand back down to Paige’s center, doing as she had before. Collecting more of Paige’s arousal on her finger, dragging upward to coat Paige’e clit. Her finger stayed there for a beat, pressing down on the bud, moving it in firm, tight circles. Paige gasped, gripping the sheets, as she struggled to keep eye contact with Azzi. 

Slowly—tantalizingly so—Azzi’s finger moved to Paige’s entrance, resting there, moving a millimeter at a time before Azzi finally pushed the digit into Paige without much resistance. At first, Azzi didn't pull her finger out any, she just curled the very tip of it into Paige’s sweet spot repeatedly, until she felt Paige’s breath pick up, that’s when she started to thrust her finger in and out of the older girl, still curling her finger to hit the spongy spot inside the blonde.

“Ah—fuck! Az, I—need more,” Paige choked out frustratedly. And wordlessly, Azzi added another finger, picking up her pace, as she leaned down to capture Paige’s lips in a kiss, tongue pushing into her mouth. 

As Azzi continued her precise movements, Paige’s excess slick started to pool at the base of Azzi’s fingers, dripping down into her palm. Adjusting the position of her arm, Azzi pushed the heel of her palm into Paige’s clit. Paige ground down in response, a noise—something resembling a moan—only more guttural escaped from her throat. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Azzi hummed.

“Fuck, Az. Don’t stop—I’m close,” Paige replied, as both hands clutched a fistful of sheet. 

Azzi could feel Paige’s walls tightening as she neared the edge, and with one firm, well-timed thrust, Paige tipped over it. Thighs clamping around Azzi’s hand, mouth open, moan lost on her lips. Azzi fingered her through it until Paige pushed her hand away, “Shit, too much, too much Az,” 

Azzi pulled her fingers out of Paige slowly, “I’m sorry, baby,” she said as she climbed off the bed, grabbing the strap she’d set aside earlier. “You think you got one more for me?”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, if you give me a minute.”

After peeling off all her clothes, leaving her clad in just a black Nike sports bra, Azzi began to put on the strap. She had seen and or helped Paige put it on enough times for her to have little trouble adjusting the harness to her hips. Coming to straddle Paige again, Azzi brought her still-wet fingers to the other girl’s mouth, “Open,” Azzi said. Paige hesitated but obliged, taking the fingers into her mouth sucking her own juices off her girlfriend’s fingers. Azzi removed her fingers from Paige’s mouth, bringing them down to glide along the length of the toy, effectively lubricating it. “You ready now?” Azzi asked the older girl. Paige nodded.

Azzi repositioned herself on top of Paige, she gripped the base of the toy with her dominant hand, the other coming to spread Paige’s wet folds as she dragged the tip of the toy through them.

Azzi placed a kiss on Paige’s lips before she lined herself up with Paige’s center, slowly pushing the strap into her. As Azzi’s bottomed out, Paige let out a low groan. What surprised Azzi, however, was that as she pushed the toy in, she could feel the base of it pressing against her. Before, she’d always thought Paige was being dramatic when she’d say things like ‘You feel so good.’ Now, she understood what Paige had meant, but alas, she kept a poker face. 

Hovering above Paige, Azzi began to move. She started with slow, tender thrusts, getting used to the feeling of controlling the toy with her hips. As she became more confident, she picked up her pace just slightly. Azzi moved closer to Paige, dropping down onto her forearms, Paige’s head bracketed by Azzi’s biceps. 

Azzi continued at her pace, listening to the sounds she was able to force out of her girlfriend when it happened. A particularly firm thrust that sent the base of the strap into Azzi’s core harder than she’d anticipated, her rhythm faltered. She sucked in a sharp breath, quickly trying to return to the original tempo she’d set. 

But it was too late, Paige had noticed and was arpearently, not fucked out enough to speak up about it, “You can feel it can’t you?” she whispered into Azzi’s ear. “It’s okay if you don’t last much longer, that’s typical for a first timer.” 

And apparently Paige’s comment had flipped a switch in Azzi’s brain, because all of a sudden, she pulled out, climbing off Paige and off the bed.

“Ah—what the–”

“Stand up,” Azzi said firmly.

“Why?” Paige questioned.

“I said, stand up.”

Paige followed without any further questions, stood up off the bed to face Azzi. Then, with concerning ease, Azzi grabbed Paige’s hips, spun her around, and pushed her upper half onto the bed. Still gripping Paige’s hips, Azzi leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I think you must’ve forgotten who’s in control here. You’re gonna listen to me until we’re done. ‘Kay?” 

With the side of her face, the better part of her upper half pressed into the mattress, hips in the air, Paige nodded frantically. 

“Great,” Azzi said pointedly. Lining herself back up with Paige’s core. This time, she didn’t stall; instead, she snapped her hips forward, sending the length of the toy into Paige, quickly finding a faster rhythm than before.

“Agh—fuck!” Paige yelled as the strap was thrust into her harder than she anticipated.

The sounds now filling the room were obscene, skin slapping, mixed with the sound of Paige’s slick center and both girls’ moans. Azzi, by some miracle, was able to keep her pace. And as Paige’s legs began to shake, she felt herself reaching her own climax. It didn’t take long before her rhythm became sloppier. She bent down to litter kisses across the back of Paige’s neck, while her hand reached around to circle Paige’s clit. With that, Paige let out a sound that indicated she’d abandoned any attempt to remain quiet for her roommates’ sake. And that sound was what did it, sending both girls tumbling over the edge. Azzi tried her best to keep fucking Paige through her orgasm, until—right as she thought Paige was coming down from her high and she could slow down, she felt a gush of warm liquid coat her thighs and the pair froze.

Pushing herself back to standing, Azzi looked down to see droplets running down Paige’s thighs. “Oh. My. God. Did you just—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige replied, muffled, face buried in the bedding wishing it would just swallow her whole.

Azzi takes it as her cue to undo the strap, letting it drop to the floor to deal with later as she makes her way to the bathroom to get a warm wash cloth. 

When she returned, she found Paige lying on the bed, face covered by her hands. Azzi climbs onto the bed with her, removing Paige’s hands, covering her face with kisses instead. Azzi then moved down to wipe between Paige’s legs with the cloth, doing the same for herself after. She sets the cloth aside, moving to tuck both of them in under the covers. Paige snuggled into Azzi’s side, head buried in the crook of Azzi’s neck. “Just so you know, that was like the hottest thing ever. I might have to try and get you to squirt every time we have sex now,” Azzi teased. 

Paige turned her head, looked up at Azzi, her eyes glassy, looking quite frankly destroyed . Before turning her head back into Azzi’s neck and muttering, “Die.”

Azzi just laughed, about to join Paige in sleep, when she heard Paige’s phone buzz. She reached over to grab it, checking who the message was from. It was Jana, the message read:

Jana: you guys are nasty fucking freaks. i hate living here

Opening the camera, Azzi snapped a photo, her tongue out to the camera, Paige still nuzzled in her neck. She sends it with the message: guess who won the bet?

[chewnchuu]

How to Familiarize Your Pussy

pairing: cat hybrid!Blade x cat hybrid!reader

tags: MDNI, fem!reader, demi human pets, suggestive in a couple scenes but no full blown guts getting blown out, Kafka is Blade's owner, Silver Wolf is your owner, Kafka + SW are roommates(kinda), Silver Wolf and (mostly)Kafka are trying to get you and Blade to know each other without Blade trying to kill you (allegedly) or without you running away from the big cat trying to kill you(allegedly), Kafka got that money, scent fetish, freaky kitties(you AND Blade), hybrids don't speak here but still understand humans, you and Blade have no lines in this play, not proofread

notes: @ mewnbuns did this hybrid fic except Blade and reader were dogs. I wanted to write Blade as a cat hybrid, so here we are. The post fic clarity is gonna hit with this one though... Well, not too bad, I mean I had to bounce back after a good chunk of this fic got deleted so I had to write it all over again from scratch. Then I let it rot in my drafts... This has way more words than it should tbh so it gets a bit rushed at the end.

You were an average cat, with a shut in owner. This arrangement didn't bother you. You helped your oddly named owner, Silver Wolf, with chores. It was your duty to keep her house clean. Although she never asked you to, you just couldn't leave her house to be littered with empty cans, chip bags, and any other gunk she'd allegedly pick up later or so she'd claim.

All you could do was roll your eyes and silently tidy around your home. It was a peaceful arrangement. You were never bothered by her, occasionally you'd relax in her room while she worked from home or played games in her room. You couldn't speak to her in her language even if you wanted to. Your days were spent preoccupied with either cleaning, sleeping, eating, watching TV, or indulging in your hobbies. You didn't need to bring in any income. You stayed at home all day, and did your most important job of all, which was to be a cat.

You didn't interact with anyone else besides Silver Wolf. That didn't bother you. You weren't properly socialized anyway. You knew basic interaction, but that was it. Occasionally you'd go out on your own to the local convenience store to pick up snacks for yourself and Silver Wolf. Maybe a dog demihuman would scare you on occasion, thankfully with a chain attached, but that was it. It was a short trip there and back to your safe haven where no one bothered you. It was a peaceful arrangement. You'd never change that.

There was no way that'd be able to change even if you wanted it to. Though, why would you? A peaceful home, an amicable owner who also keeps to herself? Plenty of food, a place to rest, entertainment, you practically have it all.

What you have? That would never change. You would never even dream of it.

Until your home was destroyed in a freak construction accident one fateful afternoon. It was a once in blue moment between you and Silver Wolf. You returned from that same convenience store to be greeted with the rubble and remains of your home. It was a horrifying sight to behold. You felt so helpless in that moment.

With shared effort, you both managed to scrounge up some of your belongings that were miraculously still intact. After organizing yourselves a bit and composing from the shock, Silver Wolf tells you that you'll both have a place to stay in the meantime.

After calling an Uber, you arrive at a very luxurious looking home about two and half hours from your crumbled one. Beyond the front gate, you soon find out it's gorgeous, with well tended to flowers in the front, garden chairs and tables with other rich people decor, and a lovely designed fountain in the center. You can't help but stare in awe as you meeky follow behind Silver Wolf to the front door. You're still rubbing your eyes from the long nap you took during the ride here. You cautiously stare as she rings the doorbell.

A beautiful woman greets you both. An acquaintance at the very least of your owner. No, perhaps a bit more familiar? How could someone like your owner just come to the house of someone like— that? This just didn't seem like the type to be associated with Silver Wolf of all people. Beautiful, clean, well kept, elegant, graceful demeanor. Just how? The woman chuckles as she notices your face contort in confusion as you study her.

"Your pet looks a bit confused, I think she's judging you Silver Wolf." oh and her voice is as decadent and pretty as she looks.

Silver Wolf shoots you a look before rolling her eyes. "I think she always does that honestly." She's right, you do, always with love of course. Although you wouldn't change her for the most part anyway.

"She seems pretty reserved." The woman comments, "I wonder how Bladie will react to her though. I highly doubt he'll be jumping for joy when he sees another cat here. He's already warmed up to you enough Silver Wolf." Another cat? Your ears twitch at the mention. Surely living with another cat shouldn't be so bad?

Your owner scoffs at her words. "Oh please Kafka, Blade barely even tolerates me. There's nothing warm about him."

Kafka hums, tapping her chin with a gloved hand before she motions you both to come inside. "Well, come in then. We'll have to discuss how to introduce them both. I'd hate for you to lose your cat." Suddenly you don't feel so welcome anymore as the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You nervously glance at Silver Wolf before you don't have a choice but to follow her inside.

The inside of Kafka's house is rather expensive, you can tell just by a quick glance around. All her decorations and furniture look like they cost a fortune even on their own. The kitchen and living room were massive. It's beautiful, really, but not enough to distract you from the looming threat to your very existence in the air. You can only assume that foreign smell ghosting your nostrils is that of another cat. It must be this Blade you keep hearing about. Oh how you hope he hasn't sensed you yet. The way Silver Wolf and Kafka mentioned him, he seems more like a rabid dog than a cat. Is it bad to think that?

Silver Wolf leads you over to a pair of lavish couches, you reluctantly take a seat on one of them. Silver Wolf sits next to you while Kafka takes a seat on the opposing couch. "I am sorry to hear about your house Silver Wolf, it's rather unfortunate to lose it so suddenly. I am glad you and your car are unscathed. I don't mind you both staying here at all, although I do worry about how our cats will adjust."

You look over at your owner, in your mind you wonder, how will you adjust? You've never really been associated with another cat. Silver Wolf never fully socialized you. Only rarely did you encounter other humans. Silver Wolf thinks for a moment, clicking her tongue.

"[Name] likes to keep to herself, so she wouldn't be a rush to meet Blade. Besides I doubt she wants to right now, she's been getting even more anxious as we speak."

She's damn right you're anxious! You want to shut yourself in a room as fast as possible if it means avoiding this big scary cat you keep hearing about. You shift in your spot uncomfortably, your tail wrapping around your waist..

"Awe, sweetie... Bladie won't hurt you." Kafka coos at you in an attempt to soothe your nerves.

You don't believe her for a second no matter how silky her voice sounds in your fluffy ears.

"There are a couple of guest rooms on the opposing side of the house. It's the opposite from Blade's room. There's a bathroom on each side as well. I sleep on the second floor, so come up there if you need me."

You wish you could ask to be on the second floor too, but then you'll have to jump from a window in the event you'll have to escape this house entirely.

"Got it, anything else I should know?" Silver Wolf asks her.

"Make sure [Name] stays in her room for now. At least until Blade gets used to her, we don't want to introduce them suddenly. Blade is a sort of— guard cat. He's pretty on edge with strangers as you know. You should personally deliver [Name]'s food to her room and watch her come and go from the bathroom even if it's just across the hall. Blade does chores for me around the house when he's not in his room. He's more used to you though, so you should be alright." Kafka explains. Each word has your stomach churning more and more.

You're nearly certain you may as well die here. You'd like to get to your room this instant. "He should be in his room now actually, he likes to keep himself too usually." Well that'd be a relief if it didn't feel so obvious that your life was in danger. Silver Wolf is gonna make you stay here? Is she insane?

Silver Wolf yawns and you could almost smack her in the mouth right now and how at ease she was feeling while you're practically at the edge of your seat to get up and leave. Alas, you're just a cat with little value with no connections at all. You're helpless. You're stuck here. No one's coming to save you. These thoughts rotate in your head as the words between Silver Wolf and Kafka buzz out of your ears.

Finally after a few minutes, before she has to take her leave to go to work, Kafka dismisses you both to your new rooms down the hall. The opposite side to Blade who you've yet to see.

You can't hop into the bed fast enough. It feels like ages since you've been able to relax. Your body melts into the luxurious sheets and blankets. It's heavenly. Silver Wolf watches you revel in the bed, a snort escapes her. You turn to face her with the side of your face smooshed into a pillow. Your tail slowly swishes back and forth and your worries slip away just like that. It feels so safe in this bed.

Your owner snaps her fingers in order to get your attention again. You groan.

"Hey, don't forget, you can't leave your room. I'll be in the room next to yours. Knock— or I guess scratch on the wall if you need food or the restroom, okay?" Her tone is light-hearted, but you can hear the slight concern in it. Though you can't display it, you're appreciative that she's at least a little worried for you. You nod obediently before turning on your side, nestling into the bed. You hear a 'sleep well' and the door shut. Your eyes slowly blink at the window. How did you get here? Slowly you fade into a state of unconsciousness, hoping this was all a weird dream.

When you wake up, it's pitch black. The only source of light is of the moon that peaks through the curtain. You groan as you sit up, stretching your arms. Sadly, not a dream. Although the bed was still heavenly. You slowly scoot out of bed with an urge to relieve yourself, feet planting on the floor before you make your way towards the door. Your hand hesitates before it reaches the door handle. Blade. The warning. Surely he wasn't up at this hour right? Slowly you open the door, cautiously peeking out of it first.

The bathroom door was right across from you and Silver Wolf's rooms. You should be back in your room before anyone would potentially notice you. So you take the chance. Swiftly tip toeing across the hall and shutting the bathroom door behind you. There isn't a single window, so you flick the light on. It's bright, nearly blinding as you adjust from the previous lack of light. A small hiss escapes you as you cover your eyes for a moment. You need to get this over with and get back to bed.

Warm water and lavender scented hand soap run down your hands. It's a pleasant sensation. You turn the water off once you finish, drying your hands with the soft black hand towel. You click the light off, thinking you won't need it with your room being so close by.

After feeling around on the door, your hand clasps around the door handle. You open it, your heart stops.

There's someone there. It's dark, but you can vaguely make out the figure of a much larger, muscular individual. Blade, it's him. It has to be. You stop, not an inch of you moves as your hair raises in alarm. There's a lump in your throat as you sense him looming over you in the darkness. His presence is domineering as it is terrifying. Strands of dark navy blue fading to red cascade over his shoulder as he leans down to your face. Your breath hitches, to escape this moment would be futile. It was far too late to shut yourself in the bathroom again. Although you doubt the door would stand a chance even if you managed to.

His eyes are like daggers, his gaze itself felt akin to a threat. Thick silence between you both is soon filled with the sound of your gagging with Blade's hand swiftly at your throat. He raises you up by your neck. Your heart is racing, your ears are flat against your head as your tail and legs flail in desperation. Through tears you gape at him with fear.

He doesn't kill you, at least he's not quite trying to, at least not yet. You try your best to steady your desperately beating heart, your hands pathetically clawing and swatting at the bigger cat's arm and his hand that grips your neck. The minor wounds you attempt to inflict don't bother him. Blade was so— uncanny. He just didn't give off the warmth of another living being. It was odd, but it almost felt that he didn't even want to be here dealing with you in a sense.

He observes you a little longer before his face closes in, the tip of his nose brushing against your shoulder. You can hear him sniffing you as if to further inspect you. Oddly enough, it gives you a moment to calm down, although not by much. You feel him huff into your shoulder and you stiffen. He looks at you with a disinterested stare, but there is still a hint of hostility— or was it disgust in those fiery colored eyes of his. It almost seemed that he was determining if you were a threat or not. In what seemed to be a miracle, he released you. You struggled to stand up straight as your feet hit the ground suddenly. You use your hand to steady yourself against the door frame. You can feel Blade's eyes on you, looking you over one last time before he disappears into the pitch black down the hall. Footsteps soon turn to silence, your hand has been subconsciously rubbing your throat. You feared moving from your spot until you were certain he was in his own room.

Once you're sure it's safe to move, you quickly scamper back to your room and shut the door behind you. Your breathing picks up against as deep breaths puff in and out of you. That was Blade.

To your surprise, no one had come to save you from him, instead he let you go of his own volition. Why? What was his motive? You try your best to forget the way he looked at you, all with your fragile life dangling in his hands. Your ears are still flattened against your head, you wipe the last of your tears as you go back to crawl into bed, tucking yourself under the covers this time. You didn't want to wake Silver Wolf, so you decided to suck it up and go back to sleep.

The next day, when Silver Wolf comes to check on you, you practically fling yourself at her. She nearly falls flat on her back with you clinging to her. "W-woah hey! What's with you?" You can't even tell her how the big scary cat was camped outside the bathroom ready to jump you last night. You nuzzle against her cheek, not a common thing, but you were craving affection after that recent scare last night.

With prodding from you, Silver Wolf has breakfast with you in your room on the floor. You happily scarf up the food. You had no idea your owner was capable of making food as tasty as this. Which was suspicious...

"You like it?" She asks through chews of her omelette and you shake your head yes in delight. "Me too, apparently Blade always makes breakfast for Kafka, so she asked him to make a bit more for us."

Similarly to last night, you begin to gag and choke on your food. Silver Wolf hastily smacks your back before offering you water. "Sorry, is he your new trigger word?" She half jokes, but she sounds concerned. "I'm not sure when we'll be able to go back to our old home, I'm still trying to work things out with my insurance company. Maybe sue those workers for negligence while I'm at it... all my games, my consoles..."

You begin to hear her mutter in annoyance as you drink your water, you can only imagine how that must've felt for your hermit owner to have her equipment and belongings destroyed like that. Of course you were upset you had lost some of your toys, art supplies, and books. Not to mention your clothes. It was mostly pajamas and lounge wear. Nothing fancy of course, but still you had your favorites you mourned a little bit.

Silver Wolf, for once, takes both your dishes when you're finished eating. It's not like you can comfortably go out there, and you certainly won't if Blade is still in that kitchen. Before she leaves, she tells you something that makes your heart drop.

"...I'm gonna have to leave you here with Kafka for the weekend. Kafka's house is a two and a half hour drive to the city and back. I'm gonna be at a hotel while I try to set things up to get us back on our feet. Kafka will be the one to feed you when she's here. You'll have snacks too, don't worry."

You're fighting the urge to cry as you listen, but you hold back. You're visibly sulking though which makes Silver Wolf sigh. "You'll be okay, Kafka will have plenty of things for you to keep you entertained. There's a TV in here too." Her attempts to console you fall on deaf ears. The only thing that really comforts you is the narrative that Blade won't come into your room, at least you hope he doesn't. When Silver Wolf shuts the door behind her, you flop down onto your bed, your tail whipping against the mattress in annoyance. This weekend was gonna be a living nightmare for you, you could just feel it.

Sometime after Silver Wolf leaves, you receive a knock on your bedroom door. It's Kafka obviously, you doubt Blade would knock. You open the door for her, and she has a box in her arms. You're incredibly curious about its contents, you can only assume what's inside is for you.

"Silver Wolf let me know about some of the things you liked, so I got some stuff to keep you busy and some clothes. You've been in those clothes since yesterday, surely you'd like to clean up and change right?" Her voice is almost like honey, it honestly feels a little sultry with how smooth it is, but Kafka is rather easy to listen to that way. You carefully take the box, excited to take a look inside and she chuckles at your excitement.

"I'll leave you to it, and don't worry, Bladie will be doing some outdoor chores for a while. Don't feel too skittish on your way across the hall." there's a teasing undertone in her voice. Had she seen you and Blade last night? Surely not. She would've done something to help you right? It's not like you can ask her as Kafka left as soon as she came.

You rummage through the box, tail swaying in a relaxed motion as you do so. Your face brightens as you pull out a sketchbook as well as crayons and colored pencils. Some stuffed animals and fidget toys. There's an assortment of books, all your favorite genres, there's multiple pairs of pajamas that even suit your style. Although you were an adult, as a demihuman pet, even the more child centered items were common things your kind were given no matter the age. Your kind weren't allowed to own their own communication devices. You gaze in delight at one of the stuffed animals, although one smells— a little off. As if it's just been washed, but there's another faint scent of cat hair. Blade's hair. This was Blade's? That hulking unit who had you dangling in the air has a stuffed animal? And Kafka gave it to you? Oh she's absolutely plotting on your downfall. She must be, because what is this!?

Had you upset her? Does she want you six feet under in itsy bitsy pieces?

You nervously put Blade's plushy back in the box. It's not like you can leave your room and give it back to him. You don't even want to imagine what he'd do to you if he knew you had it.

You take everything else out of the box, placing your new clothes inside the dresser you had in your room into one drawer and your sources of entertainment into another. Your stuffed animals you place on your bed against your pillows. The sound of a mower starting causes you to jump in alert. You creep towards the window with one of your stuffed toys in your arms. Carefully, you peaked through the curtain. Kafka did mention Blade was outside doing chores. That's exactly what he was doing, shirtless while pushing the mower across the grass in the backyard.

He looked so... calm. He appeared to look almost friendly in comparison to the other night. With proper light from the sun, you could see his features much better now. He had a lot of scars on his body, and who knows how he got those. Admittedly, he was also easy on the eyes, looking a bit closer at his face. You shuddered at your own thoughts before you stepped away from the window. You set your plushie back down before you grab a pair of clothes. You remember there had been a nice stack of clean towels in the bathroom across from your room already as well as other standard toiletries. A nice bit of freshening up would definitely do you good.

You still feel the need to look down the hall into the rest of the house before scampering into the bathroom. Again, you'd shut the door behind you, setting your change of clothes onto the counter. You begin to undress, stripping down and discarding your clothes into the bathroom's hamper.

After a nice warm shower, a coat of deodorant, a nice helping of lotion and a light dosage of perfume, you look at yourself in the mirror. You look clean, more relaxed with your cozy pajamas on, the shower definitely helped calm your nerves a bit. You take a deep breath, your ears flickering a bit. There's a toothbrush holder with an unused toothbrush in it. It's simple, a blue color, with a couple of white stripes at the bottom. You wet the brush with a bit of water before applying toothpaste on it so you can brush your teeth. It's so refreshing. The feeling of the bristles against your gums, gliding across your tongue. You brush your teeth for at least five minutes, daydreaming as you did so.

Once you finish and spit, you rinse your mouth with mouthwash. A satisfied hum escapes you as you exit the bathroom. You smile, looking down the hall without worry, only for worry to come rushing back, your face falters, your hair and tail raise as your body stiffens.

A few feet away from you stands Blade, still without shirt with a nice coat of sweat, the scent of him tickles your nostrils. Somehow it isn't an entirely bad smell to you. It's almost alluring. Blade stares at you and you hope he doesn't plan to get any closer. Thankfully, he seems to be observing you with disinterest as his gaze only lingers on you for a short moment before he leaves to go to his side of the house. You assume it's to take a shower himself considering it seems like he just came back from mowing the lawn.

You watch as he walks off, your ears fold as your tail whips behind you wildly as you stay in the hall for a moment to savor his scent a little longer. It's so odd, the scent of his sweat is almost better than the body wash you just used to clean yourself with. It nearly leaves you in a complete daze before you literally smack yourself to come to your senses. You quickly disregard the encounter, returning to your room.

Another problem presents itself to you, so it seems. Your eyes linger on the box Kafka gave you earlier. The plushy from before flashes in your mind. Blade's scent... It feels somewhat wrong, but you don't quite care as your hand subconsciously reaches for the stuffed creature inside. You hug it close to your body before hopping into bed. Your face squishes into it with a deep inhale and you feel your entire body shudder with delight. You're rubbing and squishing your face all over Blade's toy, purring as you take in the crumbs of his scent. Oh how you were beginning to crave some of his musk straight from the source. It was humiliating, and you did feel a little ashamed of this sudden desire inside you. Especially for someone you were sure was gonna kill you. He might still, you're not sure anymore.

Your hand reaches for the remote to the TV at your nightstand. You roll through some channels after turning it on, settling for an action adventure film you don't know the name of. You weren't really paying attention either after you got up to grab your sketchbook and pencils so you could draw absentmindedly. Occasionally you'd glance at the stuffed animal at your side. Something's definitely wrong with you right now...

Later that day in the evening, Kafka brings you dinner. Dinner that had been prepared by Blade as so had breakfast and lunch. You eat your dinner in silence. You'd be an absolute liar if you even hinted that Blade's cooking was mediocre or less than subpar. You had made plenty of meals for Silver Wolf during the time you spent as her pet, but sadly it didn't hold a candle to Blade's culinary skills. The meat was so supple and tender, juices squirting in your mouth with every nip of your teeth. It's almost too good, not to mention the perfectly cooked, well seasoned side dishes. Blade was such a strange cat.

Actually you're surprised your dishes have been of such high quality. No attempts to poison you or mess with your food? Well, considering Kafka was delivering all your meals, you guess Blade wouldn't try anything suspicious thankfully.

You're not surprised by how quickly you finished, the meal was delectable. Not only had you scarfed it down in minutes, you literally licked the plate clean. It almost made you forget that you weren't supposed to leave your room. You stand at your room door plate in one hand while your other is inches away from the door knob. You crouch to put your plate down near the door in a position where it doesn't get hit by it. You stare at the empty dish, your ears twitching.

You wonder if you could perhaps have a little more...

If he cooked for you, maybe you could ask for a second helping? Should you risk it though?

The scent of food is still very present in the air, you can't help but open the door. You shouldn't be leaving your room, but you're just not full yet. The scent only becomes more potent, and almost like a cartoon, it leads you to the source. You're led to the kitchen and living room.

You see Kafka, and she immediately spots you from her couch, a book nestled in her hand. She smiles at you, it's a little unnerving, as she looks at you who displays resemblance to a deer in headlights— cat in this case. "Oh hello [name]. Are you still hungry?"

Of course you are, you nod yes at her question. It's obvious by the slight bit of drool dribbling down your lip, you wipe it off quickly at the realization.

"Don't worry, I'm not mad you left your room. Go ahead and get however much you'd like from the kitchen."

A smile spreads across your face as you enthusiastically nod. You turn on your heel, but soon pale as you see familiar long blue hair with a red gradient at the ends. He's staring directly at you, his eyes were on you as soon as you made an appearance. There's a plate in front of him as he has himself seated one of the chairs art the kitchen's waterfall counter. It always feels like he's just— studying you, as if to make sure you wouldn't try anything he deemed a threat. If it was an attempt to warn you, it worked. You're already plenty familiar with his strength, and you'd rather not end up in a chokehold again. He huffs at you— no, it's more of an exasperated sigh, like it's permission to go into the kitchen.

You timidly nod to him in acknowledgement. It's clear to you that he doesn't like you or hold interest in you besides the fact that you're in his owner's house. You shuffle over to the stove, clutching your plate. There's some meat in one pan and some stir fried mushrooms in another as well a small pot of rice being kept warm. Before you can even touch the ladle, a secure grasp on your shoulder stops you. Instantly, you freeze, your tail sticking up and your ears pointed in alert. The hand you were initially using to try and grab the ladle slowly retracted to your side. Your eyes look and see Blade over your shoulder in your peripheral. When did he even get beside you? You didn't even hear him get up, not a single footstep reached your ears.

That same stoic gaze pins you to where you stand as you watch him grab the ladle off the counter. His other hand leaves your shoulder to reach for your plate and you don't hesitate to let it go once he grabs it. You nervously wait for his next move and you're gobsmacked when he begins fixing your plate for you. Maybe he felt obligated to? Less to be nice, but maybe just to fulfill his role as a servant— 'pet' in the home.

So you let him get your food, or more accurately, he simply doesn't let you get your own food. It'd almost feel like a nice gesture if it wasn't for that unnerving aura he carried. You both couldn't talk like your owners, but even for your own kind, he just seemed... off. You don't wanna know what's wrong with him. As long as he doesn't threaten your life again. Although his presence alone feels like one... You think the two of you might be able to coexist after all.

Blade takes his time fixing your plate while you awkwardly stand close to him as you haven't moved an inch since he approached. Bandaged hands meticulously place each serving of nourishment on your plate. You drool at the sight— of food. Soon he has your plate ready, handing it over to you, which your hands graciously take. Although a tad reluctant, you thank him with a warm smile with a slow blink. Despite how unreadable his expression was, you'd rather neutrality over hostility. Those eyes of his, they did seem more relaxed in a sense, perhaps it's your imagination or his cooking that clouds your mind.

Unbeknownst to you both, Kafka closely inspects your interaction. As if a plot was brewing in her mind, there's a strange twinkle in her eyes before she goes back to her book. "Would you like to eat in here [name]?"

The question catches you off guard. Do you? Meals alone in your room weren't terrible, but you wouldn't mind eating at the counter. At least you interpreted that's what Kafka wanted. You took yourself and your plate to the waterfall counter. You pause, pondering where to sit out of the four five chairs. Blade's food is still unfinished, not even half the plate was gone yet. How was he not done? Then again, perhaps he was taking his time, savoring his own food, unlike you who practically inhaled your first helping.

Blade had his plate at the far left chair, you set your plate in the middle seat. You'd have gone to the complete opposite end on the right, but there was an urge not to. A part of you— felt bad at the initial thought. He soon returns to his own seat and resumes eating, you soon follow, digging into your own food. There's an odd but serene ambience that fills the space between you both along with the light clinking of silverware and soft sounds of chewing.

After a couple of minutes, the sound of a book shutting catches both Blade's and your own attention. In a synchronized motion, you turn your heads to see her walk up to you both. She pats Blade head, it's almost comical how his big and intimidating self just— accepts it. Kafka is his owner, but seeing him be pet like the normal cat that he is begins to stir something in you. An urge to touch him too. Kafka's hand then transfers to your head, the sensation of tender scratches makes you purr just a bit. Now it's just the two of you.

In the corner of your eye, you peak at Blade. He's eating, not even half as bothered as you. In fact, when he notices you're not eating, he stops to stare at you. His eyes are narrowed at you, it can only be described as a questioning look. Considering you had come out of your room for more food, he has every right to look at you the way he is. It's as if he's questioning you.

Your ears flatten as your tail anxiously wafts behind you. His gaze pricks at you, always feeling like a confrontation. Your spoon scoops up to rice and tender meat before hauling it into your mouth. Slowly you begin to chew, and thankfully he backs off, steering his attention back to his own plate.

The two of you eat together, the atmosphere is surprisingly cordial enough as you stay nestled in your seat. Progressively, your scoops get faster, urging yourself to finish your meal soon in order to escape back to your room.

The food on your plate swiftly vanishes, but you don't have the will to lick it clean once more. Your stomach is now more than satisfied. With your dirty plate in hand, you slip out of your seat silently, red eyes only lingering on you for a split second. You carefully set your plate and utensils down in the sink, as if the slightest clink of dishes would aggravate Blade. You noted there were some dishes already cleaned off, drying in a dish rack. Kafka's most likely. Does he wait for her to finish eating before he even plates his food?

You couldn't imagine waiting for Silver Wolf to finish eating before you even started eating. Sometimes she'd let her food get cold, claiming she needed to finish something in a game for just a minute.

You huff at the amusing thought before slinking off back down the hall, leaving Blade in the kitchen to finish his meal, alone. Well, you weren't gonna sit and watch him eat.

Five minutes goes by while you're in your room, and you begin to get a little parched. Water, you need some now, so you leave your room once more. This time less skittish, maybe even an ounce of confidence was bestowed upon you.

So you quietly track back to the kitchen, you don't see Blade at his seat eating anymore so you turn to check the sink. You feel the fur on your back stand on end as your eyes catch sight of Blade— his tongue was flattened against your plate, licking the residue you had left. Something hot and lecherous shoots into your loins as your legs freeze in place, your tail squishing as your legs flicker.

Your breath only gets thicker when his eyes land on you, and without breaking from your gaze for a second, he continues. And he doesn't cease until it looks completely clean. Then he turns away as if nothing happened, placing your plate in the sink before the sound of water running reaches your ears. Finally a shaky, deep exhale slips out of you before you turn back to go to your room, with your throat still dry and your lips moist.

Midnight again, and you're wide awake, mind aflutter with that scene repeating in your head, and the way Blade's tongue moved, oh if only... You stare wide eyed at the ceiling. Sleep far from reaching you. Then a knock drags you from your thoughts. You nearly fall from your bed as you get up, fumbling to get to the door. The heavy pants already lure your ears through the door, and that fragrance— you're certain it's him.

Once you let the door open by a sliver, Blade wastes no time pushing it open. He swiftly lunges at you, only pinning you down against the floor— for now. His scent binds your mind as yours does his, perhaps clouding both your judgement as his breath tickles the skin on your face, his claws desperate as they tear the fabric of your shirt, you hope Kafka doesn't get upset with you for it.

That hardly grabs your focus for a second before a mewl is drawn from you with a harsh bite into your shoulder, and a hand that slides down your stomach, nails inches away from the hem of your pants.

A/n: if I beat that pussy up is you gon tell on me~♪ "ALL THAT FOR NO DICK?" yeah😔

[rat-rosemary]

Just say a post of someone saying "omegas can only eat plain carb heavy foods during heat and alphas need good heavy spicy food and meat" and I need to bash my head in. What happen to sex-ed. You're going to make yourself sick

You are so sensitive during your rut don't eat spicy shit. Alphas AND Omegas need meat and carbs for energy and you need them all to be plain. I swear even if you hate that kinda food normally it's going to feel like heaven during your rut/heat

[adhd-fandom-and-gay]

For anyone wanting to do research on any subject, I recommend literally just grabbing a notebook with a few spare pages, finding one specific little topic of that field you want to study, and then letting yourself go on a rabbit hole defining and making notes on smaller topics you don't know about on the way.

It's suprisingly effective. Like, this suprised even my very pessimistic self.

You wanna study science? Okay, which field? It doesn't have to be an established one or anything as long as it relates to science. Neo-alchemy? Okay, well to research that, it makes sense that you would have to study chemical reactions to some extent, and to study those, you'd need to understand the elements on the periodic table to an extent, so choose any random element—especially if one interests you, but any will do—and draw that in the notebook; write down its atomic number, name, symbol, atomic weight, electronic configuration, and anything else you can see on maybe a simple school poster. Now start defining those things in your notes. For example, what does "atomic number" actually mean? You look it up and, in the middle of writing, you see that it involved protons and electrons. Now look up what those are, write those definitions down and then look up what protons and electrons actually do in an element. Protons essentially define which element will be which based on the amount of protons aswell as add to the mass of an element, you find, and electrons—especially the valence electrons, which make up the outermost shell of the nucleus—essentially even out the charge of the element, influence how reactive said element is, and determines how an element will react to contact with everything from compounds to chemical bonds to changes in temperature and whatnot. You also find that electrons and protons are (mostly) defined by their charges, which are negative for electrons and positive for protons. It also so happens that you stumble upon what seems to be an apparent triplet of these '-ons' called the neutron, that's considered a neutral charge in the sense that it has no charge. Electrons also, notably, were defined as "subatomic" particles.

There you go. Now—based entirely on even the smallest mentions of these topics in this trip—you can start slowly learning about what charges are, what they do, what they all mean, why they're called that (Founding father bullshit, thats why), what "subatomic" even means, what differentiates a valence electron from just any old electron, why elements are combined with eachother, how elements are combined with eachother, what a chemical compound is, what a chemical bond is, how and why temperature affects elements the way they do, what temperature produce what effects on elements, and you haven't even finished defining the first measure of something on your chosen element.

And that's good! I know it may sound tedious to have to go through this process with every definition you aren't familiar with, but that's because of the perspective.

Don't think about this as "I have to learn the entirety of science and i have to write down this whole word-soup of notes for literally every single thing ever related to science if I want to be decent at neo-alchemy" because you dont!

Think about it as "I'm gonna learn about a lot of smaller parts of science that relate closely to neo-alchemy in particular and that slowly builds my understanding of this field. I'm becoming better as I knock out chunks of what I'm interested in specifically and all of this information that I'm garnering advances me further in both my field and the larger scientific community" because you are! The 'minor' details are just small parts in your own work and, in order to understand the surface level of your work, you need the supporting intricacies deeper down. If the experience you gain from building on this one layer of science so happens to give you some skill with other layers of science, then that's just a bonus! Maybe you can use that extra skill to master one of those other layers, maybe not, it's up to you really, but the point is that you got the talent to nearly master this one layer that you wanted.

Note that this doesnt only work for science-based topics, but things like history and linguistics and cooking. I'm just using science as a template. Will this work for everyone? Probably not, but I still recommend giving it a go if it seems like something worth trying to you.

[orbitganymede]

baby daddy simon who dated you for a year before you got pregnant, you’d gone through most of the pregnancy alone, him being deployed 3 weeks after you found out and gone until the very last month of it. the both of you had tried at keeping the relationship together, but the distance and loneliness got to you, you’d been fine when it was just you but now with baby, you can’t let the father go in and out of their life. he wasn’t very happy with the decision to end your relationship, in his mind you were together forever now, tied together by this beautiful thing you two created, he didn’t even want children before you told him you were expecting but his whole world view changed when he realized that he not only had you to protect but a baby as well.

but you’d moved out against his wishes, finding a small flat you like and making it home for you and baby. he would come over sometimes, when he could, and spend some time with baby but honestly he felt more like some glorified uncle, would be convinced he was nothing to this child until he saw those brown eyes staring back at him, the ones that are so completely his, and he comes to the conclusion that this isn’t gonna work.

he starts small, coming over once a week instead of every other weekend, takes the two of you out for dinner instead of letting you cook or ordering in. stays late enough that you offer him the spare bed in the guest room, even with the distance you’ve put between yourselves, you can’t help but care for him, knowing nobody else will.

then he puts more pressure on you, making sure you see just how valuable he is, taking night shift feedings and waking up early with baby when they’re fussy. he offers to take baby for the night so you can go out with your friends, do things you haven’t been able to since baby’s arrival, even pays for a spa day for you to really relax. he stocks your fridge, full of the snacks you love and a bottle of wine for the hard nights. he buys and sets up new decor in the house, finally gets you the pretty white vanity and a new washing machine that doesn’t squeak. he really just does what he considers ‘husband duties’, things that he should have been doing this whole time.

and when you don’t budge on the separation, he goes nuclear, “no, love, i haven’t seen your birth control pills”, “look how cute this baby is, remember when ours was that small, sweetheart”, “you’re so stressed darling, let me help you” which basically means you end up getting rawdogged within an inch of your life, condom long forgotten, one of simons hands held over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. he just hopes he’d tracked your cycle right, that you’re actually ovulating, because you can’t possible refuse his ring after having two of his babies right? you wouldn’t do that to him, would you pet?

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon’s sweet wife

seen other people talk about the task force finding out about Simon’s bird at first in subtle ways so I made this

It started with the lunches.

At first, no one thought much of it. Simon had brought the occasional sandwich before, nothing out of the ordinary. But then it changed. Out went the basic bread and meat, and in came proper meals. Lasagna. Curry. A neatly packed container of something warm and homemade, tucked right beside a little folded note Simon was far too quick to snatch out of sight when Johnny leaned over, grinning.

“C’mon, Simon,” he teased, voice full of curiosity. “Just let us have a peek. We wanna know who’s makin’ you lunch like that, eh?”

Kyle nodded, snickering.

“Piss off,” Simon grumbled, big hand curling protectively around the note like it was a classified file. He didn’t care that they were watching, didn’t even look up. Just reread your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth beneath the mask.

“Ay, Johnny, look! you can see a heart through the paper!” Kyle laughed, catching the way the light hit the thin paper just right, revealing the faint outline of a heart signed with your name.

After that, it became a bit of a running joke. Not that Simon gave them anything to work with. But the mystery only deepened when, during a three week deployment at another unit, a care package showed up with his name on it.

To say the guys hovered would be an understatement. Johnny and Kyle practically sat on either side of him like vultures, trying to act casual. Price stayed back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, looking disinterested but Simon could feel his eyes, just as nosy as the others.

The box had all the essentials: snacks, cold weather gear, a familiar blanket from home. A couple of your sweet notes, some of his favorite tea in bulk. But what really got them going were the Polaroids tucked in between the layers of stuff.

Kyle caught a glimpse of one. Simon sitting on a porch step with you in his lap, your smile soft, his arm wrapped tight around your waist.

Johnny elbowed him. “Alright, Simon. When ’re we gonna meet this mystery missus of yours?”

“She wouldn’t like you.” He grunted in response 

“What is she, a grump like you?”

Hardly.

The real surprise came a few weeks later, when a sweet bird showed up at base asking for Lieutenant Simon Riley.

Price was the first to see you. He’d expected someone with a set it glare, reserved, maybe a little sharp around the edges. Instead, you walked right up to Simon with a warm smile, kissed his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, and handed him a jacket. 

Simon knew Price, Kyle, and Johnny were watching from around the corner. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if half the rookies and a few of the other sergeants were too.

But none of that mattered.

Not when his sweet girl was standing in front of him.

“Why are you here, baby?” he asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You forgot your jacket,” you said, brow furrowed. “And I heard it was supposed to be cold today. I didn’t want you to get sick.”

Your voice alone cracked something in him, and it was impossible not to smile under the mask.

“Y’know I would’ve been fine, love.”

Still, he took the jacket from your hands with a quiet “thank you,” promising to wear it, walking you down the hallway before watching you turn and head back out.

Well— not before Johnny and Kyle caught you at the corner, peering over the wall like a couple of kids up to no good.

They didn’t say much, but by the time Simon heard about it later, you’d already agreed to let them come over for dinner sometime.

He just shook his head. Not even surprised by their antics. But he didn’t say no either.

Because you’d said yes.

So next Saturday, he guessed he’d be setting an extra few plates at the table for Johnny, Kyle, and probably Price, too. 

[eclips-moon]

The Batboys being clingy headcanon:

Including Duke and Bruce <3

Hope you guys like it!

Tim Drake Tim’s clinginess is low-key, but it’s also constant. He’s the type to text you “What’s up? I miss you <3” while you’re just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, he’s immediately there, like, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me.” He’ll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, he’s definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, he’s following you. He’ll slip his arm around your waist, all like, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.” He’s not a big PDA guy, but when it’s just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. He’s gotta be touching you constantly.

Jason Todd Jason is obsessive, no doubt. He’s that partner who’ll try to act like he’s tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, he’s all over you. Like, you can’t just hug him. No. He’ll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. He’s gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecks—he wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that you’re his. If you’re doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, he’ll try to drag you away, be like, “Hey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.” He’s possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, he’ll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, “You good? You’re not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?” He’s also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.

Dick Grayson Dick’s clingy energy is pure gold. He’s the most affectionate of the bunch and doesn’t shy away from public displays of love. He loves hugging you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, and just randomly planting kisses all over your face. He’ll text you “miss you <3” every few hours when you’re apart, and when you’re together? It’s all about touch. He’s sitting on your lap, or leaning on your shoulder, or pulling you into his chest just because he needs to be close to you. If you’re watching a movie, he’s definitely going to have his head in your lap, just to be as close to you as humanly possible. He gets giddy when he gets attention from you, too. You could be playing with his hair, and he’ll melt. He’ll whine like, “I’m not clingy, you’re clingy. But also, I love it. So don’t stop.” Honestly, Dick doesn’t care if he’s acting like a bit of a puppy—he’s obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.

Damian Wayne Damian’s clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesn’t need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? He’s all in. He’ll randomly grab your hand and hold it like it’s the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, he’ll growl and pull you back in, like, “Where are you going? You’re staying right here.” He has this whole vibe of “I don’t need anyone else, just you”, so if you’re talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, “I don’t think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.” In bed? He’s a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like he’s never letting you go. He’s all about the intimacy, though—when it’s just the two of you, he’ll be soft and surprisingly vulnerable, making sure you know that he needs you more than he lets on.

Duke Thomas Duke is lowkey super clingy, but in the way that’s goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, he’s tagging along. You’re going to the kitchen? He’s there. To grab something from the laundry room? He’s there. If you sit down, he’s sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to “cuddle and watch dumb shows together.” He’s always finding excuses to touch you—like, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or he’ll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you don’t give him attention? He’ll pout, even if he’s trying to play it off, like, “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He’s the type who’ll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, “Don’t go. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s all about the hugs, especially after a long day. You’ll be just chilling, and suddenly he’s like, “Hug time, right? Let me get one.”

Bruce Wayne Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit he’s clingy. He’s still the stoic, brooding billionaire who’s been through a lot, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s softer than anyone expects. He’ll always make sure you’re physically close—his hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if he’s standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When you’re working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. He’s not great at asking for attention, but when he’s feeling clingy, he’ll show you through little gestures. You’ll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. He’s a man of few words, but when he’s clingy, it’s all about the touch—the way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how he’ll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure you’re safe.

[saatorus]

golden — s . gojo x reader

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

pairing — bestfriend! satoru x reader

word count — 10.6 k

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

Satoru Gojo.

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

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

It started in preschool.

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

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

And then there was him.

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

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

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

You shrugged. “Building.”

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

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

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

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

You gasped, horrified.

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

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

But Satoru Gojo was persistent.

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

Eventually, you just… let him.

It was easier than trying to get rid of him.

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

Your moms met not long after.

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

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

And that was that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You threw a pillow at his face.

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

—

Then came high school.

At first, nothing changed.

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

And for the first two years, you were inseparable.

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

Until junior year.

It started small.

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

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

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

And people noticed.

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

The guy who no longer just belonged to you.

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

But something was different.

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

“Where are your glasses?” you asked.

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

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

He grinned, stretching lazily. “Not anymore.”

And just like that, something in your chest twisted.

It wasn’t just the glasses.

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

Because Satoru Gojo wasn’t just Satoru Gojo anymore.

He was Gojo.

Senior year was when it really started to hurt.

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

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

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

“Why’s he sitting with her?”

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

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

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

And it made you snap.

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

Satoru frowned. “What?”

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

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

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

He didn’t forget it.

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

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

And you hated that he was somewhat right. 

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

But then came college.

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

Bigger. Louder. More impossible to ignore.

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

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

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

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

You always said no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru opened his mouth, then closed it.

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

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

You didn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bit your lip. “You don’t see it.”

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

That stung.

Because wasn’t that what he did first?

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

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

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

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

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

“Try me.”

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

Maybe it was better to let it go.

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

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

That hurt more than it should have.

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

It got worse after that.

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

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

Then, one night, he stopped asking altogether.

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

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

So why did it feel so awful?

A week later, you ran into him by accident.

Literally.

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

“Oh, shit—sorry—”

You looked up, heart dropping to your stomach.

Satoru.

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

You swallowed hard. “Hey.”

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

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

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

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

Silence stretched between you. Too long, too tense.

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

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

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

And then—

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

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

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

Days passed. Then a week. Then two.

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

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

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

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

You missed him.

—

It was months before you and Satoru spoke again.

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

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

And it hurt.

More than you wanted to admit, it hurt.

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

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

Until the professor announced lab partners.

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

“Uh… who?”

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

It was humiliating.

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

And she had no idea who you were.

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

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

And that, somehow, was worse than anything.

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

—

Working with Satoru again was… weird.

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

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

Sometimes, it almost felt normal.

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

But then, inevitably, the moment would pass.

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

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

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

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

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

And then, one day, you got sick.

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

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

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

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

And there he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine—”

“Lie down.”

You hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

It was familiar.

Safe.

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

—

From that day on, something shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, one day, everything cracked open.

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

That was what broke you.

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

“Oh—oh shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Then, one day, it happened.

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

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

Satoru didn’t acknowledge her.

She huffed, looking at you for the first time.

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

Silence.

Then—calmly, lazily—Satoru turned to her.

“Fuck off.”

Her expression twisted. “Excuse me?”

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

You swore you saw steam coming out of her ears.

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

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

He shrugged. “Don’t like her.”

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

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

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

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

Satoru Gojo wasn’t leaving you behind again.

—

It happened slowly.

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

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

And it was good. It was easy.

But then—then—things started to shift.

It was subtle at first.

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

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

The way yours lingered, too.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitated, torn.

Then, finally—

“Fine.”

His eyes lit up. “Knew you’d cave.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ran the red light.”

“Meow.”

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

Satoru laughed but let you.

And for some reason, that made your stomach flip.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

You shook your head, reaching for the remote.

And then—a shift.

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

“Hey,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

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

Your breath hitched.

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

You exhaled, heartbeat stuttering.

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

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

You exhaled.

Your chest felt tight.

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

And just like that, the moment passed.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he was waiting for something.

Like he wanted something.

And maybe—just maybe—so did you.

—

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

Something unspoken.

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

 —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t.

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

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

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

A lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked, your throat tightening. “Satoru—”

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

And God, you wanted him to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence stretched again, thick and unyielding.

“Say it,” you whispered.

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

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

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

And then, his voice—low, raw, real.

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

Your breath caught.

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

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

“I want more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

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

You smacked his arm. “Oh my god.”

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

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

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

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

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

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

Your breath hitched. “You were?”

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

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

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

Your heart thudded against your ribs. “Properly?”

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

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

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

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

His brows shot up. “A menace?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna seriously hurt you—“

Satoru only smirked before cutting you off with another kiss.

—

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

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

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

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

Like right now.

“I think you should stay over.”

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

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

You snorted. “Satoru.”

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

“Not even close.”

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

“They’re practically dresses on me.”

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

“That’s a lie.”

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

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

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

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

“I swear to God, Satoru—”

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

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

Your stomach flipped.

“…Debatable,” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned. “You ruin everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

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

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

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

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

[pookiesylus]

Sylus when you’re on your period

(I’m on my period, and I need Sylus rn)

Notes:

- His dragon nesting instincts tend to come into play. First he’d toss you into bed with the softest blanket he could find along with your favorite plushies. He would play some soothing music or put on a show you like. He’d prepare tea, and leave it by your bedside. Basically, Sylus would collect any little thing in order to make the most comforting and safe environment for you.

- He wants to be your personal heating pad. He doesn’t mind grabbing one for you, but he’d much rather use his own body heat. (“It’s much more convenient this way, kitten.”) He likes to massage your abdomen with his hand, but he’s also very new to this type of care. So, he makes it known that his whole body is free real estate. Whether you want a massage, a cuddle session, or you just want to squeeze his arms when your cramps surface, Sylus is readily available.

- He does his research looking into the many ways to alleviate your discomfort, but he also studies you, taking your preferences into account. He pays attention to what pad or tampon brand you always get. He notices the snacks you tend to crave, and is always stocked up on them. Sometimes he senses your period before you even know it’s coming.

Scenario:

Sylus had picked you up from work, after you sent him many messages about how bad your cramps were. He carried you princess-style and took you to his nearest place of residence. Once he set you on the warm bed, you fell asleep shortly after.

After a few hours, you shook awake, a little disoriented from the new setting, despite its welcome atmosphere. The memory of Sylus carrying you there almost felt like a dream.

You slowly get up in search of Sylus, but find a red trail on the sheets.

“Ugh. I stained it.”

Your eyes travel to the nightstand where a set of lounge clothes is folded.

“Thank goodness.”

You change out of your tight work clothes and into the much more comfortable clothes Sylus left you.

You set back off to search for Sylus. The moment you make it to the hallway, a rich, delicious aroma hits your nose. You follow it to find him in a well-decorated kitchen, cooking your favorite meal.

“There’s my tired girl.” He looks to his side, his hands still busy.

“Sylus?” You guiltily shuffle your feet and hug his waist from behind.

“Yes, Kitten?” He hums.

“I might have stained your sheets. I’m sorry.” You say hiding your face into his back.

He doesn’t answer and just chuckles.

“What?” You reply in confusion.

“You’re cute. That’s all.” He chuckles again,” I’ll wash them.”

You look up at him from the side. “Wait. That’s not fair. Let me do something. You’ve done so much for me.”

He looks down and smirks at you. “Then you can reward me.”

“Reward?”

“You can reward me with a date once you feel better. Then it’ll be fair, right?”

“Okay…” You answer softly.

“Don’t feel guilty, kitten. You’re the one in pain.” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Now, why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He directs his eyes back to what he’s cooking.

“I don’t want to. I want to be here.” You say, still glued to his back.

“So…” He says inquisitively. “When my kitten’s on her period, she likes it when I’m near her at all times. Noted.”

“I guess you’re stuck with me tonight.” You giggle.

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you every night.”

[gaykarstaagforever]

YouTube has this thing now called YouTube Playables (great name as usual, guys; it's not a children's snack pack), that are basically in-app "Flash games"-style things that are just enough game to keep you watching ads.

The ones of these that aren't direct ripoffs of owned IP (very specifically Zuma) are barebones exercises in that bog-standard FTP addictive mobile gaming loop we all know and hate but also LOVE, minus the in-app purchases (for the time being). Like, shallow systems that are fun for exactly 30 minutes, then get stupidly hard so you'll pay to win, though you can't do that yet, so...kind of pointless.

...I still spent FOUR HOURS playing these, because they tapped into my primitive lizard brain's desire to try and master an utterly meaningless task and then feel undooly smug about it.

I didn't get any ads, because I'm a stooge that pays real money to Google every month for this, because once you go adless, you CANNOT go back. Which kind of negates the whole point of these, as addictive time-wasters that keep you glued to the platform and its commercials? But I already pay for YouTube and STILL got caught in these, so I suppose everything is going according to YouTube's plan either way, and I need meaningful human relationships.

But THAT isn't going to happen any time soon! So let me waste another evening on these by reviewing some crap garbage games for idiots that no one cares about, on Tumblr dot com!

1. Totemia: Cursed Marbles

It's Zuma. That's it. With a couple minor tweaks that make it harder and more annoying.

Just license Zuma, YouTube. I think you can afford the, what, $25 that would cost atm?

2. Sword Play

An on-rails sword slashing game (you don't control the movement, just the slashing), and you kill plastic doll guys before they kill you.

At some point they get projectiles that move really fast, that you can only destroy via specific directional QTEs that don't register properly half the time, because this is all relative finger smearing across the screen.

It was fun before that. The guys fall apart specific to how you slash them. That's something.

3. Dessert DIY

This one sucks. You're just picking from very limited options, then doing specific motions to trigger animations that create desserts that don't even look much like the promo art. People request different things, but early game all they ask for is "whatever you want to make" and "do one out of poop with bugs on it to make someone I hate throw up."

And then there's an animation of someone accepting what is obviously poop with bugs on it from their sworn enemy, they eat it anyway, then vomit.

The only fun part about this is the shameless inclusion of NPCs that look like celebrities, specifically Billie Eilish, Kanye West, and Donald Trump.

If you want to make a poop ice cream cone with bugs on it and feed it to Trump until he vomits all over his desk, this is the game for you. Otherwise, this is meh even for one of these meh games.

4. Bowmasters

Dueling Angry Birds, but you have no control of the camera and it focuses on you so you have to trial-and-error the degree of angle and throwing force to figure out how to hit and kill your opponent before they hit and kill you.

There are many colorful pop culture-inspired combatants to unlock, with a huge variety of projectiles of different weights, sizes, and behaviors. This is the most "very nearly a real, good game" one of these.

...Except that the level progression forces you to do Bonus Rounds, and one of those is "knock fruit off the head of an opponent without hitting them, and you have to do this like 5 times in a row, and we move you further away from them another 30 yards every round, and you have to use a wildly different unique projectile every round, and you get 3 chances, and that includes if you miss entirely."

It is basically impossible to do this, because your ever-changing location makes calculating arcs and force, with the ever-changing projectiles, impossible, in this limited amount of attempts. It turns into grinding it out until RNG randomly makes you win.

Which is a shame, because otherwise, this is fun. But you WILL get stuck on a stupid fruit round and stop playing this.

5. Mob Control

You have a cannon that launches blue guys. The NPC opponent does red. You both are trying to bumrush the other's base, taking advantage of buttons and switches and bonus gates that speed you up or slow you down and multiply your number of guys. Guys annihilate each-other when they run into each-other, so you need to overwhelm Red before they overwhelm you.

It's fun until it gets so fast that it becomes a chore to manage where precisely to launch guys specifically to annihilate other guys.

6. Merge Master

This goddamn game. This was 3.5 hours of my 4 hour playtime.

You have a grid board, with you at the bottom and an opponent at the top. You both have an army of warriors and dinosaurs, and a team HP bar. You click go, the warriors fire projectiles and the dinosaurs melee the nearest enemy, and last man standing wins.

Before each round, you can arrange the placement of your army, and use money you won from the last rounds to buy more warriors and dinosaurs. But the kicker is, you can combine like warriors and dinosaurs to make more powerful units, which you keep at the end of every round. They don't gain XP or anything, but as you make more money, you can buy more 1st-level units (that's all you can buy), and gradually combine them and then combine the combinations, and on and on and on, making incredibly powerful new units. And you need a mix of low-level and high-level units to have enough melee dinosaurs and projectile-throwers to overwhelm high-level enemy units, or draw fire away from your own, against the ever-changing enemy army each round.

It's a process of slowly adding more units and combining them to make stronger and stronger units, and as many of them as you can get, accounting for the limited board space. Also the price of units rises exponentially each round, so you may have 1 trillion gold, but at this point a new 1st-level dinosaur costs 245 billion.

I couldn't stop with this. It just got me. I wanted to see new exciting high-level warriors and dinosaurs, and see how fast I could take the other army down. There's more than zero strategy at work here, and battles can vary substantially from round to round, depending on what mix of units the enemy brings to the board.

It's still a rudimentary Flash-esque game, and very much akin to those shitty mobile boss rush games that raid our shadow legends. But it's not PTW yet, and the graphics are a charming and distorted replica of early 2000s 3D games, like Age of Mythology or GTA 3. It felt like something, for awhile.

It isn't, and I wasted valuable battery charge on this stupid shit. But I was having fun. And sometimes, that's enough.

...And posting about it here. It's something to talk about that isn't the world eating itself.

And we all need that sometimes.

[puckinghischier]

jack & luke loving quinn’s gf almost as much as he does bc suddenly they have an older sister they can call for advice on the most random things…

“so, hypothetically, if i wanted to get a pedicure, would they give it to me since i’m a guy?” jack asks you over the phone.

you stop in your tracks, right in front of your car, baffled at the question. “jack, is this seriously what you called me four times about?”

“i mean, yeah. you weren’t picking up. thought you and quinn might be screwing and wanted to break that up as soon as i thought about it,” he admits like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“jack!” you scolded, scoffing at his crudeness. “i was picking up some snacks for the guys before their game today. i couldn’t even get to my phone if i wanted to,” you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“you make it sound like you were ignoring me on purpose,” he says, basically being able to hear the pout on his face.

“i wasn’t not ignoring you on purpose.”

he smacks his teeth at your answer, returning to his original question. “anyways, will they do a pedicure on my gnarly man feet or no?”

you don’t even try to hide the laugh that escapes you, opening your door and finally sitting down in your car. “yes jack, they’ll give you a pedicure. are you actually going to go get one?”

“yes! dude, have you seen my feet lately? they’re disgusting. plus, quinn was telling luke and i about that time you made him do one with you and how much better his feet felt in his skates afterwards.”

you think about the fact that quinn now has monthly pedicure appointments with you, not shocked at all that he shared the information with his younger brothers.

“jack! is that y/n? i need to talk to her!” you hear luke yell in the background of jack’s call, stopping whatever response you were about to give.

you hear shuffling, insinuating the exchange of the phone. “hey! y/n! so, i need your advice.”

“hi, luke, i’m good, thanks for asking! how are you?” your voice drips with sarcasm.

“yeah, hi and whatever,” he dismisses you. “so, if you were a girl, would you rather your date wear a pink shirt to show he’s not a toxic guy, or would you rather him wear blue or black to show he’s serious about the date?”

once again, you pause. you look over to the side, as if there’s an invisible camera there and mouth a ‘what?’

“okay, well first of all i am a girl-“

“well yeah, but like…a real girl. one that isn’t dating quinn and would be ready to hop on the luke train,” he interrupts you, earning his own roll of your eyes.

“as i was saying,” you ignore his interruption, “i am a girl, and i don’t think it’s that serious? wear whatever you wanna wear. if she likes you, she likes you. if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. i don’t think wearing pink is going to either hurt or help the date.”

the line is silent for a moment. “i think i’m going to wear pink anyways. you know, just to let her know i’m not a douche,” he finally speaks.

“okay, well, if that’s what you want to do, then do it-“

“thanks, y/n! bye!” you’re cut off yet again, hearing the line go dead. groaning, you call quinn, letting him know you’re on your way with the food.

“hey, baby! you get the catering order yet?” quinn’s excited voice fills your car as you turn it on and put it in drive.

“yeah, i got it. on my way now. just got off the phone with your idiot brothers,” you tell him, pulling out into traffic.

“oh god, what did they want this time?” he asks you, knowing how often you’re plagued with calls from his siblings.

“well, jack wanted to know if he could book a pedicure appointment even though he’s a man, and then luke wanted to know if he should wear pink on his date so he doesn’t look like a douche,” you give the short version of your conversations.

quinn lets out a laugh, not at all surprised at his brothers.

“quinn, we’ve gotta set some ground rules. i can’t keep doing this. i don’t know how you dealt with this by yourself for all these years. and god, your sweet mother. i feel for her,” you say not entirely seriously, knowing they call ellen more than they call you, if that’s even possible.

“baby, they love you. you’re the big sister they never had, they’re just excited to finally have someone to ask this stuff to other than mom. because mom usually tells them to figure it out on their own,” he chuckles, knowing how much both luke and jack have told him they loved having you around.

“well, i’m about to take the ellen approach because they make me want to pull my hair out sometimes, those disgustingly lovable heathens,” you tell your boyfriend, never really being able to say anything bad about the brothers. they’re like excited puppies anytime they get to see you in person, and it does melt your heart a little bit each time.

“i’ll talk to them about it,” quinn’s still laughing at how you can’t help but talk about how much you love his brothers, even when you’re aggravated at them. “just focus on getting here. i miss you, wanna see you before game time.”

“okay, be there in like-“ you stop talking when your ringtone blares through your car.

“god, its jack again. i gotta go, i’ll see you in a few minutes,” you groan, ending the call to answer the interruption.

“what is it this time, jack?”

(part 2ish)

[cathnospam]

Posttimeskip/Canon!Bakugo Katsuki NSFW Alphabet

Thanks for 100 follows :-P

(((Black girlfriend reader mentioned a few times, if you are not black or a girl you can obviously ignore it.)))

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You were his first everything so with that you wanted to teach him just a few things like aftercare. However, Bakugo already had to down to a science. He didn’t like sleeping in sweat and cum so he’d offer you to take a shower while he puts new sheets on the bed and he joins you a little later. He noticed how thirsty you get after so he’d bring a water bottle and some juice/tea, maybe even a sweet snack if you don’t fall asleep too soon. A lot of this stuff was common sense except the cuddle part. It’s not like he didn’t want to hold you after it was just awkward for him. He just had you cross eye’d and crying on his dick now you him to be held and babied? But after some reassurance that you definitely do and you also wanted to make sure if you did good. “Of course you did dumbass you always do.” Is what he could huff out hearing such nonsense.

Post nut clarity Bakugo is softer, more touchier somehow and quiet. He’d much rather hear your yapping and he just responds with “Yeah.” “Of course” “No. dumbass” with a lot of kissing in between of course

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Yeah we all know he loves ass. He does, shamelessly so, smacking it while eating you out, smacking it when your back is faced him, patting it while you lay on his lap . But he loves your lips just as much. They’re like pillows, bouncy, and incredibly soft. It’s like a sweet flavor as well knowing you always have different types of lipgloss to wear.

I don’t think he is very particular of any part of his body, but since dating you, you love to talk about his back and arms, the way you hug him from behind or grab onto his arm walking through a crowd. More importantly how you scratch his back when he’s inside you and claw his shoulders when he keeps overstimulating you. It’s become partial motivation to his workout now.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Bakugo actually practices safe sex 90% of the time. He isn’t prepared to have any children yet and he doesn’t want any scares so he does at least buy the ULTRA thin condoms. However. The day you finally let him w/o a condom for his birthday he almost came faster than usual which actually made him upset LMAOO.

“What the—F-FFUCK!”

“Y-Y’ok—“

“I AM!…just…fuck this feel good.”

So he will cum in you or on your ass, and smack it with his dick because he seems clean but he’s such a dirty bastard at heart.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t keep many secrets from you but the few are really only justified. The first one was that when you both were making out for the first time you grinded against his semi hard dick and he let out a soft moan in your mouth. You never pointed it out but it sounded so hot and it almost threw him off because he never made that noise before. After that, for the next few months before you both finally had sex he thought of that feeling alone to get off when masturbating. Not his finest moment but he couldn’t help it.

He likes when you pull his hair but you only did it once and he’ll be damned if he asks you to do it again. Do it again

Another one would be when you and him were just talking and not having sex yet he used to only watch porn where the people looked similar to you. So he’d sometimes type up Asian guy x black girl or some shit. He was actually using it to mentally prepare himself for when he does fuck you and it’s something he isn’t ready to ever tell you because he knows getting sex advice from porn is absolutely terrible.

Speaking of getting prepared he also asked Kiri for some advice on how to eat you out. Bakugo used to watch a lot of oral sex videos and honestly he really was most nervous about that part, he’s aware he wasn’t the best kisser at first and the last thing he wanted to do was bite you or something so he simply asked his best friend that loss his virginity before him the question: “Where is the clit?”

He swore Kiri to secrecy to never speak of that conversation again after that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A virgin up until he dated you. Like I said you’re his first everything so teaching him was actually something you were expected to do, however his pride always got the best of him so when you corrected him he’d always get pissy.

“My clit is here—“

“I fucking know that.”

So instead of verbally telling him what to do you you showed him with your body, moaning louder when he hits or licks the right spot, praising him when he uses the right move. He caught onto this quick and by the time it was the 2nd round he was damn near perfect

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

A lot of people say backshots but I personally think Lotus and honorable mention is missionary Hear me out: Bakugo gives vanilla. He just does he doesn’t need all the special positions and areas to fuck he just wants you, him, and a comfortable surface preferably a bed or couch. He doesn’t want to be perceived as some sex freak or anything he is very simple when it comes to sex. Mostly because he’s so shy but won’t admit it.

The Lotus Position is something that actually overwhelms him in the best way possible. Your foreheads touching, your breast pushed up against his as he assist your push to keep grinding and bouncing against him, FUCK does he love the noises you make in his ear when you’re close too, biting him as you cum. He kisses you a lot too to swallow some of your sounds. How your hands creep onto his neck moaning his name. Plus he is squeezing your ass as you both move in sync. He loves it.

Missionary is almost a ties in because he feels he has the most control. Yeah he can be soft but he still loves to be in charge. He likes the intimacy that comes with these positions so best believe it’s a go to.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Unintentionally. He has always been so funny to you, but he likes it believe he is serious during sex. Yet you can’t help but giggle when he makes a comment about blaming you for making him get so close to cumming.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has a visible happy trail. Doesn’t grow much so he never needs to trim it, he was going to cut it off the day after you had sex with him the first time and you were able to stop him. Bakugo wanted to make his pelvic area smooth for you because he was worried his hair was itchy to you, once you explained it felt good to feel it on your pussy when he fucked you he haven’t touched it since.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Well….he can try. You can tell when he tries but bless his heart he is so damn aggressive on accident. He once tried to give you a massage but his own sweat mixed with the oil cause his hand to slip so much to the point he got mad and pop a small explosion on your lower back.

You still have the small burn mark and laugh at it from time to time. He doesn’t laugh though he regrets it a lot.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates…often. He has for years and even after graduating high school he only did it every other day or week when he was really tense or couldn’t sleep. But ever since he got with you it stopped.

Because you do it for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’d tell you he doesn’t have any. Which is half true.

He is pretty vanilla, BUT from the last few times you tried something new you noticed he enjoyed a couple things:

Overstimulation is always fun, he used to do it on accident. Now, it’s almost expected to happen after oral or penetrative sex. Something about that second orgasm really puts him in a whole ‘ other cloud 9 he can’t even explain. It’s the rarest times he’s ever selfish with you sexually.

Praise Kink 100000%. It’s so funny to see the frustrated look on his face of focusing to not cum when you’re in his ear telling him how amazing he is and how nobody else could make you feel this way. Gets him hard every time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He does enjoy the bed, but he has a huge couch in his dorm, he ate you out a few times during a movie and it led to you on top riding him. It felt so cozy falling asleep after that now 90% of the movie nights y’all have in his dorm leads to something not so wholesome.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You.

Your reactions, your twitches, your moans, the way you say his name it all drives him more to keep going and practicing to get better for you. He absolutely loses his MIND the way you cry out for him too.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will not ever do anything like humiliation or too much violence like slapping your face. He knows he can be abrasive as it is on accident and even the thought of going to far and harming you would possibly cause him to take a pause on sex no matter how much he loves it

I am 50/50 on somno. I believe he wants you alert to what he’s doing to you for his own peace of mind. But he wouldn’t be opposed to him waking up to YOU touching him.

He’s not a big fan of “daddy”, he won’t stop what he’s doing but he’d rather hear his name or “baby” or even a nickname you made out of his name.

You will not peg him. He is very sensitive about his ass.

No threesomes or anybody watching. Call him selfish, but your body is his in his mind so he’d prefer if nobody sees what you have only blessed him with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

LOVES giving. Way more than he will admit, there has been days where he’d finish sparring with someone and to release the stress he had from Deku almost beating his ass again he came to your dorm and offered to lay between your thighs as you studied.

You didn’t get much studying done.

He’s improved on his skill too. However he’s constantly messy, it’s not just kitten licks with this man he sucks and fingers and even nibbles on you like he’ll never eat you again. It’s almost selfish.

He loves the feel of your pussy against his tongue, he doesn’t taste much. If you were to ask him what you taste like he would say nothing, really but the warm, slimy slick just does something to him. If he could he’d eat you for hours

Now that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love seeing you gag and swallow his dick absolutely not. When you both started getting more physical you actually sucked his dick quite often (since he was afraid to eat you out at the time) he would actually anticipate on it whenever you both were alone so he’d keep his sweats incredibly low to his waist on purpose

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bakugo an intense guy so he starts off slow and his touches gradually turn more focused towards your reactions. He’s consistently looking into your eyes with every noise you make, each thrust is deep and nearly knocks the wind out of you. It’s not until he’s close he begins to chase that high, breathing into your mouth, circling your clit w his fingers, and going faster with slightly shallow thrusts.

He’s a big kisser btw so be prepared for little to no air because if he’s not kissing your low lips he’s kissing your upper lips with each thrust swallowing your cries

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hates em.

The idea is always fun to him but when he realizes he has to stop right when he’s getting started he hates it. He wants to take his time. He probably enjoys foreplay the most which is why he can’t stand having to make it short.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bakugo is pretty stubborn and doesn’t like too much change but if you’re willing to reassure him about what you want he may consider. It can’t be any of the no though.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Man can last a while. He can even if he’s sensitive, but he can last EVEN LONGER in between breaks. Just as long as you cock warm him. An average night of sex with him is usually 30-35 minutes, but including foreplay is actually an all day thing. Foreplay can start from the moment you wake up and he’s kissing you good morning all the way to that evening when you both are showering together and his fingers are creeping between your thighs

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t understand toys but if you’re willing pick like a vibrator he wouldn’t mind it. You just can’t use it too much, he has read those things can fuck up your sensitivity and he’ll be DAMNED if he loses to a TOY

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Bakugo actually wasn’t that much of a teaser until you brought it out of him. When he went down on your once he kept kissing and biting your thighs for WAY too long that you began to whine his name. Once he heard that pretty little “please” slip through your tongue something just snapped. He loves to hear you beg now so occasionally he’ll edge you or tease you a bit before giving you what you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not that loud. A few mumbles of your name and a couple groans is the most you’ll get because he wants to hear you more. When he’s close he’ll begin to say a few “cum with me” “cum for me’s” which is so hot to hear since his voice breaks when he’s cumming

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He learned sign language through out the years after finding out his hearing was becoming worse and he taught you as well. Now you both communicate in public through SL, and a few times he said the nastiest shit to you across the room during a lecture.

Bonus: He’s a big Pokémon nerd. Loves Gengar, Charizard, and Growlithe.

Bonus two: He has a secret tattoo he got when he turned 21

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bakugo is a more length than girth guy. He’s a shower and cut. About 7.8ish inches and it curves to the left. He also had a beauty mark on the left side of his shaft and pelvic area.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Y’all have sex about 4-5 times a week. If yall miss a week spike it up to 6 because he needs to release some stress

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You fall asleep before him so after taking care of you and cleaning you up he usually waits until you’re sleep and follows suit. Sometimes when you’re still yapping and he’s ready to go to bed he’ll gently fan your eyelids to close with his fingers. Somehow it works everytime and you slowly stop talking a dm cuddle in his chest.

[txrully]

WATASHI NO AIDORU SAMA!

summary: IN WHICH BLLK BOYS DATE AN IDOL!

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness.

warning: fem! reader implied

isagi yoichi

isagi is in awe of you. your determination, charm, and the way you captivate an audience—he’s lowkey your #1 fan. he’s also the boyfriend who overthinks everything. is he doing enough? are you eating properly? is his goodnight text too basic? but when you’re overwhelmed by the pressures of being an idol, he’s the one who brings you back down to earth with his soft smiles and reassuring words.

when he attends your concerts, he tries to keep a low profile, but the way he beams when you glance at him gives him away every time.

"yoichi, they caught you smiling like a lovesick puppy in the crowd."

"but you looked so cool up there! how could I not?!"

"next time, at least wear sunglasses."

"then how will you see me cheering for you?"

bachira meguru

bachira lives for the drama of dating you. the glitz and glam? he loves it. sneaking into your dressing room mid-rehearsal? absolutely. he thrives on making you laugh, especially when the idol world feels too suffocating. he even suggests the most ridiculous disguises when you want to go out, like matching frog hats or dressing up as old people.

he’s also not shy about flaunting your relationship, sending chaotic selfies to your fan club and saying, “aren’t we cute?” yeah, he’s banned from your socials now.

"bachira, stop posting pictures of us!"

"what? they love me. look, 10k likes already!"

"i will revoke your access to my phone."

"awwww :("

itoshi rin

rin doesn’t care about fame, but oh boy, he cares about you. the media knows him as the stoic, no-nonsense soccer prodigy, but behind closed doors, he’s your biggest supporter. he secretly streams your performances and even sets your songs as his alarm (though he’ll deny it if you ever find out). when you’re busy with schedules, rin shows his love in quiet ways—making sure you eat, sending random texts like, “don’t overwork yourself. i mean it.”

but paparazzi catching him sneaking into your concerts? yeah, that’s not part of his plan.

"you know they saw you, right?"

"tch. who cares?"

"rin, they’re calling you my biggest fanboy on twitter."

"...well, they’re not wrong."

nagi seishiro

nagi finds your idol schedule exhausting just hearing about it. but he loves you, so he makes the effort. he’s the type to show up to your rehearsals half-asleep, holding your favorite snacks. when you’re performing, though, he’s laser-focused, recording every moment because “you look cool up there.”

he also doesn’t get jealous often, but when a fanboy gets too enthusiastic, he’ll casually sling an arm around your shoulder and deadpan, “she’s taken.”

"sei, were you napping backstage?"

"mm. comfy couch."

"you’re unbelievable."

"but i got your favorite chips."

"...okay, forgiven."

mikage reo

reo is the ultimate boyfriend-slash-manager. need help with your contract? done. overwhelmed with schedules? he’s already booked a spa day for you. he’s your rock in the chaotic idol world, always reminding you that it’s okay to take a break.

he also spoils you shamelessly—designer dresses for red carpets, private dinners after concerts, and the fanciest bouquets delivered to your dressing room.

"reo, you didn’t have to buy out the whole bakery just because i said i liked their croissants."

"but you deserve the best."

"...i’m keeping the chocolate ones."

"all yours, my love."

chigiri hyoma

chigiri gets it. as someone constantly in the spotlight himself, he knows how draining it can be. he’s always there to hype you up, whether it’s helping you perfect a dance move or rehearsing lines for interviews. when you feel insecure, he’s the first to remind you of how talented and beautiful you are.

his favorite moments are when it’s just the two of you—no cameras, no fans, just quiet walks or lazy afternoons.

"hyo, do you think i’m doing okay?"

"you’re doing amazing. and even if the whole world doesn’t see it, i do."

"you’re too sweet."

"only for you."

hiori yo

hiori loves your passion for performing, but he worries about how much it takes out of you. he’s the type to leave little notes in your bag—"you’ve got this!" or "don’t forget to eat!"—and surprise you with coffee during long rehearsals.

he doesn’t love the spotlight, but for you? he’ll put up with it, even if it means sitting front-row at your concerts surrounded by screaming fans.

"yo, are you okay? you looked uncomfortable out there."

"yeah, i’m fine. just not used to being around so many people."

"next time, i’ll get you noise-canceling headphones."

"i’ll wear them if they have your voice recorded on loop."

shidou ryusei

shidou lives for the chaos of your idol life. paparazzi? fans? scandals? bring it on. he thrives on being the center of attention, especially when it involves you. he’s the boyfriend who gets caught sneaking onto stage mid-performance just to blow you a kiss.

he’s also fiercely protective, ready to throw hands with anyone who disrespects you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s surprisingly soft, reminding you why you fell for him in the first place.

"ryu, you can’t just interrupt my concerts!"

"what? they loved it. besides, i missed you."

"you saw me five minutes ago!"

"five minutes too long."

itoshi sae

sae isn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but his actions speak volumes. he doesn’t show up to your events often, but when he does, it’s with flowers in hand and a rare smile just for you. he admires your dedication but worries you’re pushing yourself too hard.

he’s also your harshest yet most supportive critic, always giving honest feedback because he wants you to be your best.

"sae, was my performance okay?"

"it was good. but you can do better."

"...you could’ve just said you’re proud of me."

"i am. but you already knew that."

michael kaiser

kaiser adores the spotlight, and dating you? it only adds to his charm. he loves flaunting your relationship, whether it’s through matching outfits or casually mentioning you in interviews. he’s cocky, but his support is unwavering, always hyping you up like your personal cheerleader.

he’s also lowkey competitive, challenging you to see who can trend on social media first after a big event. spoiler: you always win.

"kaiser, stop refreshing twitter."

"i need to know if we’re trending."

"you’re ridiculous."

"ridiculously in love with you."

alexis ness

ness is the sweetest, most wholesome boyfriend. he’s constantly in awe of your talent and works hard to make you feel appreciated, from writing you letters to learning your favorite songs on the piano. he’s also your biggest fan, always gushing about you to anyone who’ll listen.

he gets flustered when fans recognize him as “your boyfriend” but secretly loves it.

"ness, are you blushing?"

"n-no! i just—your fans are so nice."

"you’re adorable."

"not as adorable as you."

© txrully :: 2024

do not copy, translate or plagiarize my works.

[redsray]

Batfam AU where Jason never dies, so Tim doesn't join the family the standard way. Instead, he continues pouring most of his time and energy into his photography, eventually becoming known as a popular photographer for events and all that. So now, picture this: Tim gets hired to be a photographer for a Wayne gala. Obviously, he's ecstatic, because he can take pictures of Batman, Robin and Nightwing and be in their presence for a whole night. Since Tim is so naturally talented in stealth and taking pictures unnoticed, the second one of the fam realises this they're like: this kid is good. Tim manages to go unnoticed by all 3 of them (all bat-trained, one literally batman) multiple times during the night, and even when he is noticed, he disappears before they can manage to get a good look at him; to the sheer amazement of Dick and Jason.

Jason, (very discreetly putting snacks in his suit pocket): i know you're under the table, kid.

Tim: don't mind me, Mr. Todd-Wayne, sir, just taking a few pictures

Jason: right... Jason's fine, and what pictures were you taking from under the table?!

Tim, showing him perfectly good shots of him: these.

Jason: how did you get that. it looks like you took it from the rafters

Tim, nodding: I did.

Jason, glancing at the ceiling: ...what?

Tim, gone:

Jason: no fucking way.

Dick, hearing a very, very faint camera shutter from behind him:

Dick, turning around and finding no one there: what the actual...

Dick, getting the feeling of being watched and whirling around to find Tim staring at him from across the room: ... huh.

Jason, pulling Dick aside: you see that kid too, right?!

Dick, nodding: the camera kid, yeah?

Jason: who is that.

Dick: he's one of the hired photographers, apparently. one of the best in his field, despite his age.

Jason: he's good. like, really good. snuck up on me 4 times already, the little bastard.

Dick: you too? i swear he's constantly watching. it's creepy how well he can sneak past both of us.

Jason:

Dick:

Jason: you don't think...

Dick: no. B would've told us.

Jason:

Dick:

Dick: did he get another kid and not tell us somehow

Bruce: what do you mean another kid?

Jason: you heard us. did you adopt another kid and not tell us?!

Bruce: no?? how would I even?? ... what's this about?

Dick: one of the photographers has managed to sneak up on both me and Jay multiple times already

Bruce: what.

Jason: he also can't be more than like. 15 or 16. so forgive us for assuming you took another one in.

Bruce: do you know his name?

Dick:

Jason:

Bruce: really?

Dick: in our defence, he's very hard to catch. i wouldn't be surprised if he's snuck up on you, too.

[camera shutter noise]

All of them, whipping their heads toward the sound only to find nothing but air:

Tim, smiling from the other side of the room:

Jason: do you see what we mean?!

Cue an entire night of shenanigans where it's just Dick, Jason and Bruce trying to catch Tim and learn about him. Upon finding out who he is and where he lives, Dick immediately asks to keep him as an honorary member of the family. Jason is hesitant at first but at some point Tim calls Bruce Batman instead of Mr. Wayne on accident and Jason laughs so hard he's basically won over. Bruce can do nothing but watch as Tim proceeds to come over almost every night for sleepovers and is coddled by both of his sons. And he can't deny, the kid's investigation and stealth skills are top tier. By the time Dick and Jason both start referring to Tim as 'their younger brother' Bruce has just accepted his fate.

[henry7931]

Chase:

Today is a really weird day and I didn’t know how I would feel about coming over to my best friend Bryce’s house especially after the incident.

Bryce and I have been friends for over 12 years now and him and I have always been a couple of scrawny gay nerds. We both love Minecraft legend of Zelda, just about every video game you can think of and one way we really bonded was figuring out that we are both gay.

Now for years, I’ve always known that Bryce had a crush on me. For me it was never that I didn’t like Bryce or I was never interested, but I never wanted to ruin the friendship. But then you have Walker is older brother. Walker is a few years older than us. He’s super handsome, athletic, charming, he could basically date anyone he laid his eyes on.

The truth is Walker was my sexual awakening for years. I’ve stayed at their house and spent the night and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Walker come out and nothing but basketball shorts hell I don’t even think he would wear underwear sometimes.

I can remember the way seeing him made me blush, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him. I don’t know if Walker could tell that I was checking him out. Or maybe Walker was just used to people checking him out shouldn’t be any surprise that his little brother‘s gay friend had his eyes glued to him.

And somehow he continues to keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter…

So several weeks ago, Bryce and Walker’s family went on vacation to some tropical island. And something very strange happened while touring an old temple. How Bryce explained it to me was that they had a sign up that specifically said, “ please do not touch artifact.”

Bryce can be such a stickler for rules and I can almost see it in my head. It all went down. Bryce told Walker not to touch it. Walker likes to get on Bryce‘s nerves Walker reaches for it and then shit got real quick. Because Walker and Bryce have now switched bodies.

When Bryce was explaining all this to me, I really thought it was bullshit. I mean, who would believe that that sounds like something from a movie and yet even hearing Walker‘s voice, I can tell just by the tone that it’s Bryce.

So today is the first day that I have seen Bryce since he swapped bodies with Walker. And that’s why I feel all kinds of weird.

Now Bryce and I have stayed with each other like 1 million times and it’s really not unusual for us to be basically naked around each other. OK maybe not completely naked but like at least in her underwear.

And I have tried really, really hard to make him feel comfortable and I think I’m doing a really good job but having him standing in front of me in just his brother’s boxers is driving me a bit insane.

I’m sitting on Bryce‘s bed and walks back into his room just to ask me if I wanted anything from downstairs like something to drink or maybe a snack. I can barely get out the words because I can’t stop staring at the chiseled God in front of me.

“ chase you’re staying the night right?,” he asked me.

“ oh yeah, of course I’m staying the night as long as that’s OK.”

“ yeah man of course it’s okay! You know it’s okay man. No one cares you stay the night. You’re like basically family sides. My brother isn’t going to be home tonight. He’s wanted a lot of space since the whole. I’ve got his body thing. And both my parents are out of town so it’s just gonna be us,” he says with a side smirk.

“ well if it’s just us what do you wanna get into tonight?,” I say trying to make conversation.

I’m holding my eye contact directly at his face and I try my hardest not to look anywhere else, but he takes his hand and start scratching his balls and I can almost feel my whole cock twitch.

“ I mean since everybody’s not here tonight, we can always break into my parents liquor cabinet, whoop whoop!”

You know I am probably the most innocent 18 year-old alive, I don’t wanna attend parties nor do I really sneak around my parents but I feel like alcohol sounds like a great idea right now. I mean it I might be able to calm down a bit.

“Hell yeah! That’s sounds fun!,” I say with some enthusiasm.

“Bet! Be right back!”

I hear as heavy feet running down the stairs and all I can do is try to think of something that would totally turn me off like anything taxes, my grandparents, just something…

And yet all I can think about is how hot it would be if I could suck on his toes. I’ve had a thing for feet a while now and it’s taking me a little bit to accept it and a part of that I blame Walker for him because he has some sexy ass feet.

I can remember clearly the smell of his feet after he would finish football practice and he would pull off his shoes. Shit! Fuck! I’m so hard right now. I feel like I’m gonna have to sneak away and beat one out in the bathroom just to clear my head.

And then here comes Bryce with two glasses in his hand and a bottle of wine for the both of us just super eager.

I reposition myself to where I’m laying flat on my stomach so he doesn’t notice.

Bryce hops on to the bed with me and try’s his hardest to navigate a wine opener.

“Geez, I have no clue what I’m doing here…”

I eventually take it and started twisting in. I try to pull it out but struggle.

“Here since you now have all of the muscles.”

He rolls his eyes at me and tugs it out.

“Success!”

“Good team work there he-man,” I say playfully.

Bryce’s pours both of us a glass and at first I thought it tasted awful. But the second glass… now I see why people like it. I feel so warm inside and relaxed.

We both lay back in his bed.

“Is it super weird for you?,” I ask him.

“What?”

“You know… being in your Walkers body.”

“Um… yes. Yes and no I guess. I feel like everything has just moved so quick since the trip. I feel very different in public, like I’m so much more noticed. girls hit on me… so do guys. It’s a lot to take in especially since you and my family are the only ones who know about it.”

“What about Walker’s girlfriend?”

“Oh he broke up with her, thought it would be less weird. Although he had to do it over text because I refused to call or see her in person.”

“Damn! That’s crazy.”

“Yeah but she was like his girlfriend for the month, nothing serious.”

Of course…

“So is this pretty permanent?”

“Yeah I think so, unless you know of any other magic objects than can reverse it haha.”

“No, not off of the top of my head,”I say jokingly.

“Well… that answers your question. This is my body now. This is the new me I guess,” he says looking his muscles over.

I look them over as well and then my eyes draw this briefs… he’s got a hard on…

Bryce catches my eyes and says, “you wanna touch it?”

“What?!?”

“Come on Chase… don’t play games with me. I know you and I know you’ve had the hots for this body. I’ve known for years now.”

I take a deep breath… I feel my nervous all over again.

“It’s okay, I know you like this body. It’s my body now. And I want you to touch my massive dick.”

“But Bryce!”

“Shhh! Chase I’ve had a crush on you for years and I know you would never fool around with me. And now I have the body you’ve been lusting for years now. TOUCH MY MASSIVE DICK PLEASE!”

“Fuck, okay.”

I start touching it from the outside and it does feel huge!

“You know I love you Bryce, you’re the most important person to me. I just never wanted us to loose our friendship. It’s why I never tried anything with you.”

“I know. And listen I know you weren’t trying to go after my brother. I know what he looks like. Everyone does. But now I have the body and the personality so, I’m giving you no choice but to date me. Got it?”

“Ugh fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure!”

“Can I see your feet?” he says to me.

Wow! Wasn’t expecting that!

“Wait why?”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird but I have a thing for them.”

“Shut up! So do I!”

“You do?!?”

“Yeah especially…,” I eye down to his feet and wiggles his toes.

“Oh my god! This is about to be a wild night!”

“Wait, can I kiss you?”

“Please!”

Part 2 Coming…

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

1,000 follower celebration!! I love u all wow. thank you for all your support, truly. be warned, this is long. enjoy 💫

warnings: nsfw alphabet for dick grayson and jason todd, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

A | Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

jason is very different after sex. it’s a major act of trust for him, so when it’s done, all he really wants is to be close to you. in other words: he’s a big cuddler. he’ll mumble some things into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair, and after, you usually end up ordering enough food to feed a small family, because that man can eat.

dick is a loverboy at heart. once the dust has settled and you’re both down from your highs, he’s doting on you—bringing you water, a snack, cleaning you up with a damp cloth—with doe eyes and a big old grin. always invites you to have a shower with him afterwards, and you always say yes, because his shoulder rubs are divine.

B | Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

unsurprisingly, jason has some…issues with his body from all the shit it’s been through. that being said, I think he intentionally trains his back and shoulders the most. it’s what makes him look as huge as he does. as for his favourite thing about you, jason todd is an ass man, argue with the wall. he likes something he can grab. hard.

dick grayson knows his ass is fat. he’s not shy about it. but his favourite body part is actually his arms, and how muscular they’ve become over the years. as for you, he loves your hips. they trigger something primal in him; the second you put on a fitted dress, he’s thinking about giving you his children.

C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

jason gets nasty. he’ll cum anywhere on your body just for the obscene sight, but he especially loves to cum in your mouth when he’s feeling that extra bit dominant. he doesn’t care if you spit or swallow, it turns him on either way—but, god, he’s proud when you open your mouth to show him it’s all gone.

let’s cut to the chase. dick wants to cum inside you over and over again. he hardly even contemplates doing it anywhere else; that man wants to fill you up and watch you drip. maybe it’s his out-of-control breeding kink, maybe it’s how intimate it feels—whatever the case may be, rest assured dick grayson loves a creampie.

D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

voyeurism. jason likes to watch. it happened accidentally once when he walked in on you practicing some self-care, and he’s thought about it ever since. he enjoys the performance aspect of it; it’s a power play, watching you get yourself off, knowing he’s right there but refusing to help you.

this ties in with Q, but dick borders on exhibitionism sometimes. fucking you in his car, in the bathroom at a charity event, or in a changing room—anywhere you might get caught, really—god, it gets him going. it’s the daredevil in him, constantly yearning to test the limits of what he can do.

E | Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think jason had very limited to no experience before his death, and most of what knows today he learned by being with you. ever the fast learner, though, he sure as shit knows what he’s doing now. I think he’s very in-tune with your body and his needs, and it shows in the way he fucks you.

we have to face facts here. dick definitely got around before committing to a serious relationship. despite that, I think he knows what he’s doing thanks to his impeccable observational skills; sometimes you think he knows your body better than you do (but don’t tell him that; it goes straight to his head).

F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)

jason is a sucker for good old-fashioned doggy style, of course, but fuck, does he adore the prone bone position. trapping you under his body, hitting you deep with each thrust, and he gets to watch your ass jiggle at every movement? it borders on religious ecstasy for him.

dick goes feral—feral—for the mating press position. it’s erotic, carnal, and raw, and that’s exactly what he wants when he’s fucking you. he’s also partial to cowgirl, especially when he can tell you want to take control. the view it offers him is enough to have him whining underneath you for more.

G | Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

jason is more on the serious side; sex with him, intense as it may be, is still a big act of vulnerability on his part, so he doesn’t treat it lightly. he will, however, crack a warm smile on those occasions when you make love in the small hours of the morning, when he thinks you can’t see his face clearly.

dick is a tease, and sex with him is fun. he likes to flirt with you while he bends you into compromising positions, and he gets very cocky when you cum. he can’t help but make little quips after the fact, either; “something wrong with your leg, baby?” as your limbs twitch and tremble from your orgasm. jerk.

H | Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

in keeping with his rugged exterior, jason is only doing what he needs to in order to keep things manageable and convenient. he is not dedicating hours to manscaping. much to your elation, that means he keeps his happy trail intact.

dick is a little more meticulous in his grooming, being the “pretty boy” that he is. he prefers keeping himself neatly trimmed, partly to ensure more comfort in his nightwing suit—he’s learned the hard way that the pornstar look is a one-way ticket to chafing when you’re jumping off of buildings.

I | Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

jason really restrains himself from being outwardly intimate. he finds it hard to be that vulnerable, and while he loves the passion between you when you fuck, he’s only really able to tap into the romantic aspect if he’s wholly at ease. that’s not to say it never happens! it definitely does, just give him time.

he may be cocky and unserious when he’s fucking you, but sex with dick is always very openly intimate. he sees the beauty and romance in what you do together, and it’s truly special to him that he gets to witness you like this. sex is absolutely one of the ways he expresses his love and admiration for you.

J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jason only really masturbates when he’s away from you on a mission, and needs to take the edge off. it’s less interesting without you, so he wants it done quick. he imagines you touching yourself as he does it—legs wide and eyes hazy—and that gets him to his peak extremely efficiently.

dick likes to edge himself. I said what I said. he’s thinking about how he’d much rather save his load for your pretty cunt, so he’s bucking his hips and screwing his eyes shut as he forces himself to stop right before his climax, reminding himself how good it’ll feel when he gets to fill you up.

K | Kink (one or more of their kinks)

overstimulation is jason’s go-to; he gets off on dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re hardly able to speak. he also loves forced eye contact, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open. oh, and he has a massive size kink. when you’re as huge as he is, everyone is small by comparison, and he likes how big you make him feel.

say it with me. dick grayson has a breeding kink. the visual aspect of cumming inside you is enough to drive him crazy, but the thought of getting you pregnant…now that makes him rabid. face-sitting is another big one; any variation of pussy-eating drives him wild, but having you sit on his face is his favourite way to do it.

L | Location (favorite places to do the do)

if you’re at home, anywhere is fair game to jason. he’s fucking you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, on the sofa, against the wall, in the office—anywhere. outside of home, he’s more restrictive, but he has thought about fucking you in the batmobile on the many occasions he’s stolen it.

the bedroom is definitely dick’s favourite place to fuck you; aside from making things feel more romantic, he wants you to be comfortable as he’s bending you into crazy positions. he also loves a shower quickie and car sex, impractical though they may be. don’t worry, he’s an acrobat. it’ll work.

M | Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

is it crazy to say that jason gets turned on when you argue? because he does. a moderate disagreement where you’re getting huffy with him is a surefire way to get bent over the sofa. oh, and if he feels even a little jealousy creeping over him, you’re in for a ride. also, if you nestle into him during the night, you’ll be contending with his hard cock pressed against your lower back until one of you caves.

dick is whipped. whatever you’re doing can get him going. cooking, reading, wearing his clothes—he loves everything you do. but, he’s particularly turned on whenever you dress up for a special occasion. it can be a little inconvenient when you’re running late for an event and he’s groping you over your gown in the limo, but how can you refuse those blue eyes?

N | No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

jason would be very resistant to anything that puts him in a submissive role (this goes for ak!jason too). this includes both sex acts and the use of props/toys that take control away from him; he’s just not into it. he’d also refuse any kind of roleplay, saying it’s unnecessary. he’s a pragmatic guy.

I think dick would really dislike the idea of hurting you. he’s not opposed to spanking, and he’ll even engage in some light breath play (ahem, headlock, anyone?), but he would never take it any further than that. if he bruised you through anything other than hickies, he’d be sick with guilt.

O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

it should come as no surprise that jason loves receiving head. there are few sights as enticing as watching you take his cock in your mouth while he instructs you to keep your eyes on him. he’s also very skilled in returning the favour, and his preference is eating you from the back so he can see your pretty ass move each time you squirm.

you know my stance on this. dick is a munch. he’s eating pussy like it’s his last meal before the end of the world, and he’s doing it for him. needless to say, he’s fucking good at it. receiving head is quite literally the last thing on his mind. that being said, when he does remember to let you reciprocate, all he can think about is how pretty you look while doing it.

P | Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

jason can get pretty rough, and he likes to fuck you hard, but he knows how much you can take. sex for him is partially an emotional release. but, he’s good at alternating between destroying you one day and being gentle the next; despite his tough facade, jay enjoys soft, passionate sex as much—if not more—than you do.

dick is kind of a hedonist; once he starts feeling pleasure, he doesn’t want it to end—especially when you start feeling it too. he’s happy to give you fast and rough if it’s what you want, but his preference is sloppy, erotic fucking. the messier you get, the better. although, if he’s got you in a mating press, the roughness seeps back in quickly.

Q | Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he’ll never say no to a quickie, jason prefers to take his time with you. once he starts, he finds it hard to stop, and he loves to see how much you can take from him before you’re spent. quickies are sporadic with him; he prefers to enjoy your body at his pace.

if he gets the chance to fuck you—hell, even just tease you—dick is going to take it. he loves the thrill and the sense of urgency that comes with quickies. whether it’s a hookup in his car or an impromptu blowjob when he’s supposed to be on patrol, his eyes are lighting up like it’s christmas.

R | Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

jason is not a risk-taker. he needs time to warm to any kind of experimentation, but he’s more likely to try things on you than on himself, like using light restraints on you or dabbling in sensory play. as long as he feels he has some control.

dick is a different story. he’s willing to try most things at least once, and he’s able to laugh it off if something goes south. he’s not opposed to switching (ha) things up and giving you the lead, either; he likes a woman in charge.

S | Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

maybe it’s his extensive training, maybe it’s just who he is; whatever the case may be, jason can go for a long time. but, it’s usually just one round that he draws out so he can really work you to your limit.

dick can handle multiple rounds if you give him time. his recovery consists of burying his face between your legs until he’s ready to go again, which doesn’t take very long once you start convulsing against his tongue.

T | Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

jason wouldn’t even think to use sex toys unless you brought it up, but he’d be open to using them on you if you asked. he’s quick to see the potential in your little pink vibrator when he holds it against your clit while he fucks you, noticing how much easier it is to overstimulate you this way.

ever the experimentalist, dick isn’t opposed to trying out toys in the bedroom. in fact, he’s the one who would show up with fuzzy blue handcuffs (“I got them in my colour!”) to restrain your hands behind your back, so he can devour your cunt without interference from you.

U | Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’d like to tease you more, but jason doesn’t really have the restraint for it. as soon as you’re splayed out in front of him, he wants to take you. when he does tease, though, he likes to touch you everywhere but where you need him most, until you’re begging for him to make you feel good. then, he likes to make you regret it—over and over again.

dick is the world’s biggest tease, and you can look that up. he’s got you grinding on his lap, making out with you until you’re panting, only to say he needs to do some work as he stands up with a smirk. and when he finally gets you naked, he makes you tell him what you need while his fingers hover over your aching pussy, never reaching you.

V | Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

jason isn’t very loud at all, but the sounds he does make range from grunts and groans to the occasional low moan if you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. he’s a big dirty talker, and he likes to get up in your ear to do it, so he knows you’re listening. he notices the way you shiver at his gravelly voice, and it drives him crazy.

dick is far less concerned about being quiet. he’s moaning, swearing, telling you how pretty you are, even occasionally whining, and he’s not worried about what your neighbours think—in fact, he’s making sure you’re just as vocal as he is, insisting you tell him how you feel. he’s also expressive when he cums, especially when he does it inside you.

W | Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I know this is controversial, but jason would never agree to a threesome. this man is possessive. the mere thought of seeing someone else touch you in front of him is enough to make him see red, so no—he’d end up committing murder (not that it’s a far leap for him on a good day).

dick has a thing for watching you work out, especially when you’re doing yoga in the living room in those skin-tight pants. watching the way your limbs elongate and contract as you bend and stretch does things to him, but he never interrupts; the images stay in his mind for those long missions.

X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

jason is a behemoth of a man all over. and I do mean all over. he’s packing. an easy 8 inches (slightly more), thick, with a slight upwards curve and a prominent vein from the base to the tip—which is a mauvy pink, by the way. you’re still shocked you’re able to take him, and he was too the first time.

‘prettiest man alive also has a pretty cock’ would be dick’s headline. just over 6 inches, with enough girth to make you feel full, and a rosy pink tip that matches his lips…you could honestly just stare at it if he’d let you (and he probably would). he fits you like a glove every single time.

Y | Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

jason’s sex drive is pretty consistent; it’s always simmering a little ways below the surface. he’s able to compartmentalise it when he has to, but sex doubles as a form of stress-relief for him, so it happens…often.

dick has an incredibly high sex drive. like jason, he can reel it in when needed, but if it were up to him, you’d fuck every single day, twice even. I also truly believe that he’s regularly plagued by morning wood.

Z | Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of, but the truth is jason could probably pass out in your arms about 10 minutes after you’re done. take it as a sign of how safe he feels with you as he’s snoring softly into your neck.

he’s definitely tired after sex, but dick is waiting until he notices you dozing off before he closes his eyes. once he’s out, though, good luck waking him up again without an air horn. he’s going to need his full eight hours to recharge.