#sweet!reader

[klausysworld]

Can I get some fluffy Klaus headcanons where he’s dating someone who cooks/bakes? Not as a career, but as a hobby 

Klaus and his little baker girl:

When Klaus met y/n she didn’t know that he was a hybrid. She found it odd and somewhat worrying with how little he ate and often cooked or baked things for him whenever she saw him.

She knew her food was good, she’s had many friends and family members tell her so and so if he didn’t eat her food then she knew something was wrong.

Thankfully Klaus has good taste in all senses and nearly licked the plate clean.

He could see the glint of relief in her eyes and the warmth that spread through her when he told her how delicious her strawberry tart was and it made his heart swell.

It was clear to Klaus that this was y/n’s love language, giving to him and caring for him.

Klaus wasn’t used to walking in to a warm meal and a smiling face each night.

Every night he made sure to stop at y/n’s knowing she would have something ready for him no matter how late he showed up. He found that since knowing her, he felt hunger for something other than blood but instead for actual food and for her presence.

No matter what she was making: a stew, a roast, a steak, a pasta dish, a fish dish, something savoury or something sweet. Whatever she served him, was always delicious. And he always wanted more.

He wasn’t sure where she got all the time from to bake him his shortbread, brownies, angel cakes and other little treats. Between him being at her house and her being at work while he’s amongst a war, he didn’t know how she managed to find the time for her hobbies. But he was thankful she did nevertheless.

Klaus was certain that if he weren’t supernatural then he would’ve had diabetes from the amount of sugar she fed him. At one point he questioned if she was trying to ‘fatten him up’ to which she laughed and offered a ‘maybe?’ back to him.

He loved how sweet she was, so soft and innocent in the best of ways. Her biggest worry was that he didn’t eat enough and her main wonder of each day was what she would cook for dinner.

And when she accidentally found out he had a big family, her first thought (after getting upset that he didn’t tell her) was to invite them all for dinner. He was very reluctant but he couldn’t tell her big eager eyes no, not when he knew it was something she would love.

So after a lot of threats and physical fights, Freya, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah, Hayley and Hope all arrived at miss y/l/n’s home along with Niklaus of course.

She had made a mix of foods for them so they could pick what they wanted and made some simpler dishes for young Hope as the fancy foods didn’t appeal. It was something that instantly made the Mikaelsons like her and also have them all see the love shine in Klaus’s eyes. True, pure love.

It was the first of many things the mikaelsons would try from y/n.

Once she became a frequent visitor there and they came comfortable at hers, they were almost always snacking on something.

Elijah had a craving for cobblers and crumbles, Freya had taken to anything with strawberries in it, Kol went for anything in sight and Rebekah wanted to try everything at least once. Meanwhile Hope and Klaus were slowly learning some of y/n’s recipes and Hope was making slight alterations to make them more to her liking.

Often Klaus would notice y/n adding a cake to Hoped lunch box and sneaking out of bed early to set the breakfast table.

If she were to ever miss a meal then every mikaelson was on alert thinking she was missing.

If she didn’t bake something for a couple days then they were trying to find what was wrong and when she got too stressed and over baked Hope was bringing brownies to school while the vampires in the compound would come and steal a biscuit.

Everyone loved y/n’s baking and her cooking. Many times Freya, Rebekah and Hayley had tried to tell her to open a coffee shop but she argued she like her other job just fine and liked that food was something she did because she loved and not because it was a responsibility.

The mikaelson home was a brighter place with her cheerful smile and loving nature.

Klaus was so much happier with her caring nature around him. So much warmer as a person, whether or not it was the constant sugar rush or the flood of affection, he wasn’t sure but he loved it either way.

[berrytimefields]

good hair days

part one

word count: 1,248

note: this is my first ever fic on tumblr! let me know what you think <3 i really didn’t want to split this into two parts but i really wanted to get this out to you guys! part two is coming later this week! always open to requests! (multifandom friendly)

katsuki bakugou x sweet! fem! reader

summary: days are hard and stressing and the least of his worries are his looks. but i guess it wouldn’t hurt to try and fix himself up a little bit. but why is she so nice to him? this has never happened before. what the hell, i just needed a trim.

warnings: none! some mentions of insecurities and some cursing. probably misspellings too. just cute fluff and sweetness towards an emotionally constipated man 🥂 may be slightly ooc but yolo!

the pink bell jingles lightly as the front door is pushed open, quite roughly as the loud intrusion jars some of the clients sitting inside. a tussled blond tramples through almost taking down a poor lady that stood close in proximity to the new arrival.

“hey sweetpea! do you have an appointment?” the man freezes in his attempt to take off the jacket haphazardly thrown around his shoulders.

“what the hell did you say to me?” the bouncy girl kept her smile from ear to ear as she turned and approached him, current client sitting patiently under the light pink dryer.

the place itself would be his number one red flag if the woman in front of him didn’t already give him an alarming vibe just from her presence alone. her over the top loving personality and the sparkling pink room around him would seem like the heroes worst nightmare, oh that’s right, it is.

he knew coming here wasn’t worth the torture, the idea of two hours spent here surrounded by glitter clouds and rainbows made him want to gag where he stood. yet he couldn’t compel himself to move. still stuck frozen in time as you seemed to get even closer than you had been before.

‘i dont think this shitty woman has any sense of personal space,’

“honey, are you ok? would you like to sit down for a minute?” her voice had the ability to pull him straight out of his trance and get him fixated back on his current state of being. he took another look around, noticing the pointed stares of many other ladies that were disturbed by his flamboyant entrance. he cleared his throat and tried to save his ass from seeming like too much of a jerk too soon.

“i need my hair fixed. now.”

yea still a jerk.

“oh, ok. well it’s your lucky day i seem to have a spot open! usually i’m pretty packed but i think i can make an exception for you sweetie.”

now what the hell does that mean, he pondered your words for a moment. he wasn’t exactly nice and friendly so why were you not apprehensive of his current behavior. better yet, why did you seem to treat him as though you two have close romantic relations. he searches his mind for a few moments to try and remember if a woman, as beautiful as you, had ever spoken that way directly to him. in any sense that wasn’t ironic. he scratched deep beneath the surface and couldn’t find diddly squat.

“ok.”

ok? really. a woman has called you three pet names in the first two minutes of knowing her and you can’t even finish one thought out loud?

“what would you like done today sir?”

now he didn’t like that as much. call him something cute again.

“don’t call me that.”

maybe the wrong approach.

“sorry sweetpea i never caught your name?” he tried to think what kind of reason you could have to possibly need to know his name when you could just refer to him as sweet things for as long as you live.

wait what.

sweet things? him? never.

he’d never been referred to as anything sweet, let alone anything complimentary. he’d barely even got a ‘babe’ before and that usually came from his friends if he has to really be truthful.

“names bakugou. need a trim gets in my eyes,” he couldn’t stand the constant poking of his bangs while he tried to fight crime, as embarrassing as it is for him to admit.

“okay well why don’t you come sit over here, and i’ll get you started up on that cut okay hun?” he felt his heart flutter again and felt to urge to rip it out with his bare hands. he mumbled back a small noise of agreement and followed you to the chair sitting on the other side of the salon. you waited for him to sit down before stepping behind him and running your fingers through his hair. he immediately felt a tenseness in his shoulders. ‘is getting a haircut always this nerve racking?’, well no because you were never the one rubbing your soft fingers through his scalp. 

“you have such beautiful hair, i could run my finger through it all day. i guess that wouldn’t be too professional though. would you like me to give you a wash?”

he thinks he might drop dead on the spot if you keep making these propositions. want to run your fingers through his hair for the rest of his days? be his guest. wash his hair and touch him even more? please be his guest. 

“yea, please,” oh god he said please. it’s time to get out of here.

“ok babe, let’s get you over to this chair then and get you started on that rinse okay?” you smiled at him through the mirror and started to walk away to start the lukewarm water. he’d never admit to anyone how fast he rose from the previous chair and made his way to you.

as you leaned him back and brought his hair into the sink he forced his eyes up so as to not catch your gaze. you hummed softly as you began to saturate his hair, at the sound of your relaxing voice he let his eyes flutter close as you began the soft strokes through his golden locks. this continues as you washed his hair in such a manner he didn’t know existed. don’t begin to ask him what it was you did to his hair because he hasn’t the slightest idea. after he hears the steady stream of warm water shut off he also hears you begin to step away from your place near his head. at this sound, he can’t help but open his eyes and follow your movements as you grabs a soft pastel towel from a nearby shelf. if you hadn’t turned back to face him he swears his eyes would’ve rolled to the back of his head. 

of course, they’re gonna put that thing on his head.

“alrighty, darling let’s get you back over there so i can start taming your mane!” your soft laugh drifted throughout the room as you guided him back to the chair he first resided in.

once he rested back in the pink leather seat you wrapped your favorite rose-colored cape around his neck and he struggled to understand how everything could be such an obnoxious color.

“what’s with this pink shit.”

“it’s my favorite color, makes me happy! don’t you have a favorite color hun?” the smile you gave him was genuine as you started to blow dry his freshly cleaned hair.

“mmm, like orange i guess,” he mumbled and he couldn’t even be sure the woman he spoke to could hear him but he saw you nod your head in agreement wholeheartedly as if you had heard you won the lottery.

“hold on one sec okay? i’ll be right back to start your trim,” he didn’t understand why you seemed frantic all of a sudden but he hummed his agreement as you wandered off to the back of her shop.

bakugou looked up into the mirror and, for the first time that day, realized how his face felt hot and seemed to glow with a pink tint. now, that’s not gonna fly.

in his peripheral vision, he notices you return from where you disappeared to with what seems to be another cape in your hands.

but this ones orange. 

-

tags: @hornegaethot @tittiesarenice​ 

(if you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!)

[maybanksbabe]

Think bout Bunny being in her 3rd trimester and all she can really wear is Rafe's clothes; his sweatshirts, button downs etc because none of her stuff fits anymore and Summer is over, so she can make herself cozy in his clothes waiting for her due date to arrive 😫

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[sweetnothingtm]

simon riley who’s obsessed with a camgirl.

simon riley who has his card memorized so he can endlessly tip you with little messages of praise.

good girl. what a good dirty whore. that’s it, smile for daddy. finished so soon? i won’t ask twice - again, princess. wish i could fuck those little plump lips. nasty little slut.

simon riley who’s your top viewer and spends thousands of dollars donating you gifts.

simon riley who jerks himself off to saved videos of you smiling sweetly as you dip your hand in between your thighs.

simon riley, who bought you special lingerie for Valentine’s Day just to see you cum over and over and over in the tight red lace.

simon riley - pussy whipped for a girl who’s never met him but who he’s destined to ruin with all his dirty little fantasies.

damn my bad I’ll stop…

[sunsetsimon]

more random simon headcanons <3

☼ his favorite colors are black, blue, and grey. his personal style is very plain, black hoodies, white tee's, and black sweatpants are his go to. simon doesn't want to stand out any more than he already does with his large frame, so he opts for comfort over style.

☼ simon is very helpful around the house, constantly tidying up and fixing anything with a problem. he has no issue doing the dishes or folding the laundry, but for some reason he hates sweeping and mopping? you don't get it, it's not an intense or demanding chore, but simon claims that "it's too boring" and he'd rather trade something else with you. it becomes an agreement for him to do most things in the room, and then you come in after to finish with a quick sweep and mop.

☼ he's extremely low maintenance. he always buys the cheapest products he sees, opting for a basic body wash and 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner. when you first started dating, he didn't even own a proper face wash, using the bar of soap from his shower. simon isn't the type to have a whole routine, but he does pay more attention to the things he purchases so he can impress you with a new scented body wash or a moisturizer you'd mentioned.

one of his favorite gifts to ever receive from you is a bottle of cologne, loving the way you're drawn to him every time he gives himself a spritz. now every christmas he asks you to get him a new one that you'd like him to wear!

☼ cannot handle spice for the life of him. we all know that foods in the UK are usually seasoned with just salt and pepper, and not commonly spicy, so he's sensitive to it. something you may consider mild will have him breaking into a sweat and chugging down a bottle of water to ease some of the burn. his cheeks get flushed red and he just shakes his head in pain, reminding himself to never trust you when you say "oh it's not that spicy!" ever again.

☼ he has the lowest screen time, averaging about 20-30 minutes a day, and that time is spent either texting/calling you, taking photos of you, looking through photos of you, or making lists for you. the only extra app he has downloaded is goodreads, and even then you were the one that downloaded it and created his account. his passcode is set as your birthday too of course.

he's a little obsessed.

[m-ayo-o]

Toji's hand grips the back your neck when you take his dick in your mouth. You slip your lips over the big, leaky head then down his thick shaft as far as you can go-

"nhh--" you gag on him, and repeat.

You can hear him sucking his breath through his teeth and his hand is starting to squeeze you tighter.

And that's when you hear him pant out his instructions-

"Slower... fuck, slow down baby-"

You're surprised to say the least, but you obey and look up at him to see a blush over his cheeks. The look on his face makes you moan and he has to bite his lip to maintain any semblance of composure.

But you're too good.

His head tips back and he releases his lip with a symphony of hot, breathy moans, your name mixed in between, and you realise...

You have made a mess of Toji Fushiguro.

[xxsabitoxx]

Yuta is sick of you getting injured, so he decides to take matters into his own hands…

Yuta, fucking you with the intent of getting you pregnant so you have to stop being a sorcerer for a long while. All because he can’t stand to see you keep getting injured because of your strenuous curse technique.

Yuta who has you nearly bent in half, hands gripping the back of your knees with such ferocity that you’re sure there will be nail indents left behind.

Yuta who has your knees nearly touching your chest, his full body weight on top of you as his hips piston in and out of your sopping cunt.

Yuta who is babbling nearly incoherently about how this will keep you safe, that you’ll be such a good mommy, that you’ll never have to worry about getting injured ever again.

Yuta, who only whimpers in return when you babble the same sort of nonsense, begging him to make you a mommy.

Yuta, who’s coming inside of you in record time, not daring to pull out after and not even thinking about setting your legs down. Mumbling about how he needs to make sure all of it stays inside.

[suguru-getos]

Imagine you have a four year old daughter with Suguru and she hears her dad yelling/angrily talking to someone in the cult/whatever. Something which just pissed Suguru off.

She breaks a vase and you rushed to her, “Oops- sorry mommy, I- broke it. Didn’t mean to..” your daughter has Suguru’s hair falling on her face as she pouts. You of course kneel down and smile, nodding gently. “It’s okay sweetie, I’ll tell Daddy and he’ll fix it.”

The facial expressions on your daughter’s face change a little, pouting and almost quivering as she hugs you. “Mommy please don’t tell Daddy I’ll never do it again.”

Now you have NOT a single clue why her favorite person in the world is someone she’s getting scared of. “Why baby?”

“Cus Daddy’s gonna get mad-” Suguru has never once been mad at her, or you in front of her, despite the arguments you might have.

That was the day Suguru stopped talking on the phone with anyone who can piss him off 😭

[beamergirll11]

Imagine Konig and Ghost having sex with you, Konig is nervous and Ghost is barking instructions.

NSFW USE HEADPHONES

Full Audio

Credit:Badjhur

[yuwuta]

satoru physically withers and crumbles every time you return his belongings. he doesn’t know how to tell you that he can only accidentally on purpose leave his glasses on your nightstand, or his jacket on your couch, or his shirt in your laundry so many times before he loses his mind. every time you don’t take he bait, he folds into himself and wonders why you don’t love him anymore and it costs him $22.50 to hear ieiri tell him to suck it up and use his words because he literally has to buy her company (and drinks).

but when you do take the bait, when you do wear his things, satoru thinks it’s all worth it. he can’t explain why it does what it does to him. it’s a sinister kind of possession he wants to have over you, knowing you’re your own person, free to do as you please, but also knowing you’re caged in him. it’s a lovesick kind of gooeyness that melts his heart seeing you fumble with the sleeves of a sweater that’s too long for you. it’s the vision of you seeing you drowning in him—in his clothes, in his things, in him, in him, in him. he’s selfish, he wants to consume you in as many ways as possible, wants you to drown in him, would die happily knowing you were one tenth as enraptured by him as he is with you. he doesn’t know how or why or when you gained so much power over him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want you to ever stop, so if he has to keep pretending to leave his clothes and bags and glasses around then so be it.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Virgin! König

Warnings: 18+, Virgin! König, Rough! König, Huge Cock! König, Stomach Bulging, Size Difference, Praise, Unprotected Sex, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

A behemoth pounding a comparatively tiny thing like you was, to the untrained eye, a complete mismatch. Especially when one could so easily spy the bulge in your stomach, the lengths to which your hole was stretched to accommodate his size, and the sheer weight with which his cock pinned you against the mattress. 

But they wouldn’t see the feral gleam in König’s eye, the need to mark you as his plain as day in the pace with which he thrusts, the bulging of his veins along his shaft, and the fervency with which the head of his length sobs, thick globs of pre-cum making his entrance only a scintilla easier as the girth of his cock renders re-entry almost impossible. 

Almost.

You know that telling him to slow down would be pointless now; a plea upon deaf ears. Especially as König all but sees god in his rapidly-approaching orgasm. His pupils are blown wide beneath half-lidded eyes, his lips suffocating as he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to yours. He pants, moaning, groaning, grunting with every exhale. 

He halts, – only for a second – and pulls out before gripping your legs and throwing your knees over his shoulder. He slams back in, hitting a spot deep within you. You can only scream as he resumes his animal pace, slamming into you more times than you can count, reaching a place no other man ever could.

“Doing– s-such a good job, Köni,” you coo between stilted gasps, hands gripping the pillow encasing your head, your crown hitting the headboard. He whimpers at your praise, biting his lip as he looks down at you, gazes upon the battlefield of bruises, bites and welts he’d pressed into your skin. He buries his mouth into the crook of your knee. He bites, suckling, burns the word ‘Mine’ into your skin.

And you can only lay there and take it, every sensibility being thoroughly pounded out of you with each shunt of König’s hips. And to think that this was his first time. Yet, he’s managed to break you down into such a state of fatigued euphoria that you can scarcely believe it. If it hadn’t been for the feverish, feral look in his eye, the sloppy rhythm to which he tries so desperately to abide, and his unwavering need to please you – praising you for taking his cock while almost sobbing amidst the buzz building in his core – you’d have assumed he’d been at this longer far than you have.

It only takes your clenching around him, trying to seize him as his unrelenting pace proves too much for you, that brings this giant to his knees. With your walls bearing down on him, strangling his member between robes of scorching velvet, it takes one final squeeze to wring König for all he’s worth.

He lets go a high-pitched, strangled moan as the knot in his abdomen snaps, a preliminary twitch of his most prominent vein your only warning before he’s flooding you with his semen. He throws his head back, eyes screwing shut as an electric storm sets his very being alight. You can feel his load pumping into you, filling you past full. Some trickles out, viscous and plentiful, in the little space where you and König are joined.

He can’t stop himself from collapsing on top of you as your knees fall from his shoulders. König uses what little remains of his strength to stop himself from crushing you with his gargantuan frame. His head hangs just above your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. You swear you feel his drool dripping onto the pillow, just catching the edge of your marked, burning flesh. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, his teeth grazing your shoulder.

“Scheiße, (Y/N),” he whispers, his voice thin, his breathing deep.

Whatever reservations he’d had about the temptations of the flesh had been thoroughly eradicated thanks to you. But now, he faced another issue; trying to get a handle on his newfound libido – all without destroying you in the process.

This is going to be a long night.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[maybanksbabe]

bunny dancing around in a long sundress to fleetwood mac in the garden at a barbecue, rafe is just staring at her and this is when he realises he’s gonna marry her one day

🐰.

I LOVE moments like that anon!! It just hits him that he wants a forever with her 😭😭

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Soft Astarion Jealousy

Now with part 2!

I love Ascended Astarion because he's horrible but the sweetness of the other end of the spectrum is impossible to deny. He's just so in love and grateful I can't 🥺🥺

So here's some jealousy that isn't psychotic. Well it is but not as bad:

Astarion never expected to be the jealous type. He always thought...well. In all honesty he never thought about the reality of having a relationship. He didn't even think it was possible for him, let alone the idea that he would actually want it. Even with you, even after he admitted a fraction of his own feelings to himself, he never thought that he would be so... possessive. Though admittedly, he had very good cause for it.

Because you were frustrating. So, so frustrating. For some idiotic reason, you simply didn't understand how alluring to others you really were. You were a pretty little thing, yes but that wasn't the problem. It was so much more than that. And he knew that the others wanted you. Every last one of them. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Halsin. All of them like moths to a flame. And that wasn't even counting all of the strangers you had met on your journey, the extras that thought they had a shot with your greatness. They all wanted you in ways that made Astarion seethe. And the desire from others wasn't even the kind that he was used to, the kind he understood like the back of his hand. Because you didn't need to seduce to cultivate desire. All you needed to stoke the flames was merely your presence. Experiencing you was all that was required for people to know they wanted more.

Astarion knew that the others weren't just looking for a bedmate, they wanted you for the same reasons he had grown to. Your empathy, your desire to understand those around you. Your fearlessness, your infuriating habit of always trying to do the right thing. They wanted you for your laugh, the way your eyes would crinkle in the corners when your smile was too wide. Your silly jokes, your endless hopefulness for a future. It felt as though everyone around saw you for the gem that you were and it was... concerning. Extremely concerning.

Astarion hated thinking about things like this. He loathed admitting the truth to himself even more. But he was...terrified of losing you to someone else. Especially since it could so easily be done. He was so very lucky that you weren't the brightest, or at least not when it came to matters of the heart. You could do so much better than him, a fact that was incredibly obvious to everyone around you. Everyone but you, a luck that Astarion did not take lightly. But how much time did he have before it ran out? Would it ever?

Perhaps it was delusional, but he was starting to think when all of this was over, assuming neither of you perished anyway, that...it could just be the two of you. Living together, exploring the world, even if it had to be under the cloak of night. Maybe... maybe the two of you could even find a cure for his unsavory condition. The thought itself was incredibly stupid, but then again, it was just as idiotic to believe that there was a cure to the Mind Flayer parasite. But here they were, closer then ever. And if that was such an impossibility turned into reality, perhaps a vampiric cure wasn't so impossible. Or maybe even finding an alternative method for immortality for you, without the downsides of his own. Anything that could just keep you both together, for as long as possible. It was an unrealistic dream, that would never come into fruition. If anything it was dangerous, so very dangerous to even entertain the thought of forever. Especially when your connection was so tenuous.

Astarion would never be stupid enough to thank Cazador for anything but...he'd be lying if he said he wasn't appreciative for his own lack of subtly when it came to seducing you. Even if it originally was for distasteful reasons, it still got him ahead of the pack. If he had been less calculating, less astute, there was a sincere chance that you would be warming someone else's bed at night. Callousness would never be without it's uses, even if it led to uncomfortable situations like his current infatuation.

What would he do when you inevitably wanted to leave? How could he survive after having something so...good. Someone so caring, someone who for some very horrifying reason liked being around him. And the sex... it was fabulous. He was a massive fan of your intimacy, when he was capable of participating in it. He adored it, he adored you, your beauty, the sweet noises he could coax from your mouth, the europhia of being inside of you. Then there was the fact that you could be intimate without any traces of it devolving into lovemaking. He had never been gifted with the ability to say no before, so often and so freely without a single fear of punishment. If anything, it felt like he was rewarded when he was honest with you, when he would share his sudden fits of discomfort in his own body, the memories that plagued him and doomed him to staying stubbornly soft. You would never get angry, never even disappointed. You would just listen and smile, always adorable when you would ask, "But I can stay for a cuddle, can't I?"

An extremely silly question, considering the two of you hadn't spent a night apart from each other since you'd made it to the Shadowlands. Yet it never failed to make him melt.

It was getting worse, these feelings. He just wanted you around, by his side, constantly. Constant enough for him to get the ridiculous urge to hiss at anyone else who dared to come near you. He felt an intense need to protect the closeness the both of you had cultivated, the kind that he had never been allowed before. He had no interest in sharing you with your own friends when it came down to it, let alone another lover.

Which is precisely why his original, mild distaste for Halsin turned into a full-blown hatred the night he had the gall to proposition you.

It had felt like a shard of ice going through his chest when you bounded over to him, laughing about one of his greatest fears coming much too close to reality, "You won't believe the conversation Halsin and I just had-"

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that," Astarion laughed, purposefully interrupting you. He had no desire to hear the specifics of that conversation. He didn't even want to be having this conversation, where you were inevitably going to ask if it was okay to explore someone else.

The answer was no. Never would he be okay with it, allowing someone else to be close to what should have been his. But he needed to think strategically here. To say no could be disasterous. If it became a game of choice between him and Halsin... he's almost certain he would lose. Halsin was everything he wasn't; caring, giving, sharing in your worldviews in a way that Astarion never could. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't. Having you at all was better than nothing.

"But I'd never even consider something like that-"

"It's fine," Astarion interrupts again, the fakest smile he can muster plastered on his face. The pain was worth the risk mitigation, he was sure of that. But... he still had to ask, "But is this because we haven't...y'know, in awhile?"

A sick part of him prays that you'll say yes. Because if that's the reason, he could do something about it. He could force himself if need be to always tend to your needs. Especially if it meant keeping you to himself. It was such a small sacrifice in comparison to the rest of his life. He would do it in a heartbeat if you demanded, anything to just make you stay.

But that was not the answer he received. Instead you frowned, looking him up and down, "What? No, I-Astarion no. Please don't think that. What we have together is so special to me. The physical part of it is lovely, perfect even. But...it's not what we are."

It's almost comforting to hear you say that. But then why did that make the situation feel so much worse? If it wasn't sex you were after then that certainly meant you wanted more with Halsin as well, did it not? But it was too late to rescind it now.

Astarion nodded, a confused mixture of hurt and gratefulness swirling through him, "I just needed to know. But if you're satisfied with me and just want to explore, go right ahead. I'll be here when you're done."

You nodded slowly, brow furrowed when you asked, "So...we aren't exclusive then?"

"No, of course not," Astarion confirmed, ignoring everything inside of him that was screaming for him to take it all back, "We can be as open as you'd like."

"I see..." You said, trailing off with a frown. You coughed into your hand, looking up at him sharply. Sharp enough for him to be sincerely confused, "Does this mean that you'll be speaking to me before you explore your other options?"

"I-yes? If you want?" Astarion answered, a new type of unease settling in his chest. You didn't seem very happy with this conversation, despite his best attempts to give you what you wanted. Where had he gone wrong? Was he already working to throw you into the arm's of another man, without even trying?

You were still frowning at him, your look cold in a way that made him feel particularly ill, "Please do. I'd like to know everything. I'm going to speak to Halsin, get this all sorted. We can talk later."

And then you were spinning on your heel and marching away, like Astarion was the offensive party here. It made no sense. He had done it all right, hadn't he? Agreed to it immediately, didn't make you feel guilty, had tried to be what you wanted. How had he failed?

He didn't wait around to see you go to Halsin. Instead he went straight back to his tent, closing the flap as he laid down. Great. Fantastic. Now he would have to be aware, perhaps even hear you being with another, while simultaneously reliving that horrid conversation in his head for the entire night. The hurt and worry was making his mind wander to uncomfortable places. Perhaps...Halsin could be dealt with in another way if things became too serious between the two of you.

Would poisoning the man be too extreme?

But before Astarion had the time to start thinking of a more detailed plan he was interrupted. Suddnely, moonlight was filling his tent, with your silleoute shining in the darkness.

He blinked up at you, confused, "What are you doing here?"

You frowned at him, looking hesitant in the entry way, "Should I not be? I thought-I can go if you'd like."

"No!" Astarion blurted out, loud and desperate enough to make him cringe. He cleared his throat, trying again, his voice still a touch too pitiful for his liking, "No, no, come here darling. Of course you're always welcome. I just assumed you would be busy."

To his relief you listened, crawling into the bedroll next to him. Astarion didn't waste any time in wrapping his arms around you, relieved to humiliating degrees that you had chosen to come back after the deed. Though...you didn't quite smell as he had thought you would. There were no traces of the floral, woodsy smell of the druid on your skin. Just the sweet, pleasant scent that he had grown so fond of.

You sighed as he tucked you against him, the warmth of you enough to make him relax for the first time that night. You laid together in a pleasant quiet, one that Astarion was actually scared to disturb. Despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what happened between the two of you.

But you broke the silence for him, muttering into his chest after the two of you were settled, "I'm...sorry for being snappish earlier. I shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong, and I know I don't own you. I shouldn't have assumed."

Astarion frowned, pulling back to get a proper look at your face. You looked hurt, sad even. Like you were the one who had gotten their heart broken. He could feel a curl of distaste settling in his stomach, annoyed that this felt as though the situation was being placed back to him. He had played his part, perfectly. What more could you ask for? What was there to assume?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Astarion carefully said, his eyes fixed on every micro expression on your face, "What did I do that could have been construed as incorrect?"

"Nothing!" You rushed to say, shame coloring your cheeks, "I was being stupid. You never promised me anything. I just...assumed. Wrongly that we were something we aren't."

That didn't-he-what? Astarion frowned at her, his confusion evident on his face, "What did you think we were?"

You looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze when you answered, "I thought that we were...together. Alone. Just us. But if that's not what you want I understand. It's fine-"

"What in the hells are you talking about?" Astarion blurted out, his anger and pain bubbling to the surface, "I haven't done a thing. And we were just us before you decided to galivant off with a bear of a man!"

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. So much for playing things safely. No, he couldn't even have the self-control to stay quiet. He always had to ruin everything.

But surprisingly, you didn't look angry. If anything you seemed just as confused as he felt, "What? I didn't-we didn't do anything! When did I say I wanted to do anything with Halsin? You were the one saying you didn't care!"

You weren't making any damn sense, "Well why else would you ask me about it?"

"I didn't!" You huffed, glaring at him, "All I was going to say was that he asked me. And I wanted your help on how to best turn him down! And then you jumped at the chance to push me onto someone else-"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Astarion seethed back, "If it was up to me you would never look at another man again! Or woman for that matter!"

It was an odd feeling, to be arguing while holding each other so closely. But Astarion had no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if he could feel you squirming against his ironclad grip when you fumed at him, "Then why would you say it was okay?!"

"Because I don't want you to leave me!" He shouted back, loud enough to snap him out of his own anger. All of his fury was instantly replaced with fear. Gods, why had he felt the need to say that? To lay his biggest insecurity out on the line. Why not just hand you a stake while he was at it, since he was so eager to give you the tools to destroy him.

But you were still seething, hissing back at him, "Why praytell, would I leave the man I've been in love with for months? Hm? Please, explain it to me!"

Astarion couldn't. He was too busy being shell-shocked at the confession, feeling too many emotions at once. Joy, relief, somehow even more fear than before. You so freely said the words that he had done his damndest to bury, to ignore. But now they were out there, filling him with a horrifying joy.

He wanted to say it back. He did. But he couldn't get the wrecthed words out. Instead he was just staring at you like an imbeicle, his mouth hanging opening at the confession.

But his silence didn't make you falter. Instead you looked determined, near fierce as you grasped his face into your warm hands, "I love you Astarion. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is about. But I want you. And only you. If you want the same of me then you must tell me. Now."

Astarion let his hands flutter over your wrists, humiliating tears prickling at his eyes. But at least his vocal chords allowed him to answer you this time, "I do. So much more than you know. I want us. Just us. No one else."

The words were flowing out of him, too fast and sincere for him to make the appropriate edits in his head. He was saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much. But the way your eyes brightened at his words, the way you grinned at him before pulling him in for a sweet kiss made it suddenly feel like he wasn't giving anything up at all.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Astarion was exceedingly grateful for Halsin's existence after that night. He would never have had the gall to demand you to himself without a trigger, without the anger you both shared at being misunderstood. Because now, you were his. His alone, the proclamation coming from your own lips. And he was free to stop hiding how much he had wanted it. How willing he was to do anything to keep it. He let himself off his own leash after that, leaning completely into the mutual ownership you had of each other. No more would he silently sit back and seethe as a stranger flirted with you. No, now he'd be upfront and center, with a possessive hand around your waist as he glared them down, more than prepared with a confidence-shattering quip on his tongue.

He started to let all of his urges seep through, taking full advantage of your willingness. If Wyll looked at you for too long at the fire, with a touch of something that Astarion didn't like in his eyes, he'd effortlessly pull you into his lap onlookers be damned as breathed you in. If Gale suddenly had a suspect offer to teach you some new magic in a secluded location, Astarion would invite himself, impervious to any glares sent his way. And when he felt as though all of them were being a bit too flirtaious, he was more than happy to put them in their places at night. Spending hours upon hours making you scream his name in bed from pleasure, loud enough for everyone to hear and know exactly who you belonged to.

He couldn't care less if it added to his own unpopularity amongst their merry-band of rejects. Their opinions didn't matter. Not when you were eating all of the sudden attention up.

You let him do it all because you understood him, in ways that no one else had bothered to before. You knew who he was, what he wanted, the extent to how much he craved your attention. And you let it all happened, reveled in it even. The intense shows of affection. Because you loved him. And he loved you. And one of these days he'd allow himself to admit the obvious.

But for now, he had what he wanted. What he needed. And in the first time in his life, even with disgusting tadpoles squirming his his brain, Astarion was actually...happy.

[nanaslutt]

choso with tongue piercing? >_<

hngh i need his tongue inside me :(

😝

Bestfriend!Choso X Reader :3

contains: fem reader, teasing, dirty talk, exhibitionism (they're in a car), sexual tension, oral (r!receiving), Choso’s first time giving head, slight jealousy, whipped!Choso & reader, first time receiving, reader has a bad track record w/ guys, mentions of bj, so soft & sweet

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Holy fuck." You swallowed hard at the view in front of you. "My brother convinced me to get it done when he got some of his piercings, said it could be a bonding experience," Choso explained, putting his tongue decorated with the little silver ball back into his mouth. "Did it hurt?" You asked, your mind still reeling that he had hidden a tongue piercing from you for all these years.

"It wasn't horrible, I'm pretty good with pain. I don't really see the point in having it pierced though." He started to explain, "No one ever sees it, even I forget it's there sometimes." Choso finished. You just smiled and nodded, pretending to listen as he kept talking about his experience getting pierced.

You had already thought of 400 scenarios in which you would let choso put his tongue (and piercing) to work on your body, so the pain he went to to get the pretty jewelry wouldnt be in vain. One particular scenario stood out in your head of him tongue fucking you, feeling the metal against your clit and- "You okay?" Choso's voice rang in your ears.

"Huh?" You said, pulling yourself from your daydream. "I asked if you would ever get your tongue pierced and you just froze up." He explained, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Oh! Oh right! I uh, I'm pretty squeamish around needles so thinking about it makes me a little... nervous" You lied through your teeth, thanking the universe that he seemed to believe it.

For the rest of the day the two of you spent together, the only thing you could focus on was his piercing. Unbeknownst to you, he had caught you several times. Choso had purposely run his tongue over his lips to wet them, every so often, just to see your breath hitch when you got a glimpse of the silver.

As he was driving the two of you back to his house for a nightcap, some relaxing song playing in the background, you spoke up through the silence, "Thanks for today Choso! I know the night isn't over yet but the museum you took us to was so much fun, we have to go to the cafe inside next time!" you exclaimed. He turned his head away from the road to look at you, before returning his gaze on the dark street.

"I'm surprised you remembered there was a cafe." He said, a hint of teasing, and snarkiness hiding in his voice. "Huh?" You voiced, tilting your head at him in confusion. "You seemed out of it today." He elaborated, "Is there something going on?" He asked, keeping his voice and face fairly monotone. His question caught you off guard, had you really been acting that weird all day? So much so that he picked up on it? Oh god.

"No! No, I'm just a little tired today, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be weird." You forced out a laugh, once again coming up with a quick and hopefully believable lie. Unluckily for you, Choso saw right through it. "Are you sure? Because you were acting fine until I showed you my piercing." He said, hitting the nail right on the head.

You froze, not expecting him to be able to pinpoint the exact moment in the day you started behaving strangely, why was he so damn observant? "Oh.. really?" You said, no bullshit lies or excuses coming to your tongue, so you tried to laugh it off instead, saying something about a coincidence. "Did me sharing that make you uncomfortable?" He said, making you immediately reassure him that was absolutely not the case.

He turned the car onto your street, driving slowly down the dark path and towards your house. The two of you have been friends for the longest time, spending practically every second together any chance you got, so of course he knew the way to your house like the back of his hand.

"Oh my god no! No choso, really it's.. it's nothing.." You panicked slightly, not wanting him to feel bad for you being a perv and not being able to control yourself over a piercing. You sighed heavily, scrunching your face up as you seriously contemplated telling him what was really going on with you today.

No matter what you did you couldn't stop imagining your oblivious best friend's tongue between your legs, flicking your clit with his tongue and teasing the bud with the cold metal. You wanted to feel guilty you really did, but the vision was too delicious to feel any remorse.

"Does it turn you on?" He asked, pulling into your driveway and putting the car into part before he unbuckled himself and turned his body to face you. The expression on his face was unreadable, which made you nervous. Your face was heating up, and your mouth dropped open and closed like a fish out of water, trying to think of a response as your brain processed his unexpected words. You really didn't want your long-term secret crush on your best friend to be exposed like this.

"The piercing, does it turn you on?" He asked again, rephrasing his question. Oh god.. he was going to call you a perv and kick you out of the car, leaving you cold and alone in your own driveway if you said yes right? He would definitely think you were weird, who thinks about their best friend in that way?

You opted to shut your mouth, as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded as softly as you could, unsure of your own actions. He looked past you, scanning the outside around the two of you to make sure there were no witnesses before he spoke his next words. "Wanna find out why I actually got this piercing?" He asked, making your face turn a dark shade of crimson as you whispered out a needy, "Please.."

--

"Fuck- Ohmygod right there Choso- Fuck!" Your hands dug into his soft strands of hair as he ate you out like a man starved. He had you on your back in the backseat of the car, legs splayed out for him as he laid between them, feasting on your cunt. He flattened his tongue out against your clit, making sure the ball of the piercing was kissing the little bud before he shook his head back and forth, stimulating your clit against it.

It had happened so fast, he had leaned forward and pressed your lips together, asking if this was okay before he unbuckled your seatbelt while you were distracted, and somehow the two of you had ended up in the backseat. You weren't sure why he didn't just drag you inside but you couldn't lie that the thrill of doing something like this in the car was exciting.

Choso scissored his fingers in and out of you, abusing your g-spot with the pads of his digits as they curled up against it. His tongue was working you over so well, he drew his name over and over on your clit, occasionally sucking it into his warm mouth and humming around it, sending delicious vibrations through your cunt.

Choso had never told you about any of his sexual conquests, so you werent really sure what to expect in terms of how well he would do when he said he was going to eat you out. Now you were begining to think he had a side job as a porn star or something because his technique was unreal.

"H-how are you so fucking g-good mph!" You cut yourself off with a whine when he suckled your clit particularly hard, making your body jolt against him. Truthfully, Choso had never eaten anyone out before, but he most definitely had watched porn and practiced on his hand for the day he got the courage to ask you out.

He wasn't expecting the opportunity to fall into his lap this easily, so when he saw your eyes light up at his piercing, he internally thanked the gods that you caught a glimpse of it in the sun, which led to him revealing the jewelry to you.

Choso always paid the utmost attention to you, without you even knowing it. He knew what you liked and disliked, he even so much as knew every detail about your tone and facial expressions to make sure you were constantly pleased and comfortable, he always wanted the best for you after all.

He watched how people would break your heart and toss you aside like you were nothing, it alwasy made him furious. They were absolute idiots to give you up, he hated seeing you sad over some unemployed nobody who never really cared about you from the start. Althogh he hated them, he couldnt help but feel a little grateful for them. If it werent for them taking you for granted, you might be in a relationship still, and the two of you wouldnt be in his backseat right now.

Choso moaned against your core when your hands tightened in his hair, rolling his eyes at the feeling of your nails digging into his scalp. "Does it feel good?" He said back, knowing damn well your answer. "Yes, yes Choso, fuck!" You moaned, dropping your chin to watch him work between your thighs.

He was already looking at you when your eyes locked with his. His eyebrows scrunched together upon feeling your gaze, keeping his dark eyes on yours as he ate you out with more vigor, drinking in your body’s every reaction to his tongue. The vibrations from his deep groans were going to push you over the edge. "Choso- Choso I'm close," You whined, fighting your eyes from rolling back in your head so you could keep your eyes on his and watch him do his thing.

He was so unbelievably handsome like this, the streetlights casting beautiful shadows on his face, and his expression was so needy it made your heart skip a beat. The way his eyebrows mimicked your expressions whenever he did something that felt particularly good, was so hot, he was so attentive.

The man between your legs was feeling drunk. This was something he only dreamed of and it was actually happening. He felt like his cock was going to burst from just tasting you alone, but he would gladly make home between your thighs forever. "Please," He begged from between your legs, scrunching his eyebrows together as he ate you out with more vigor.

He released his fingers from your tight hole and opted to replace them with his tongue, pressing his face as tightly against you as he could to make sure his tongue was fucking inside you as deep as possible, making sure to lick his tongue upwards against your walls so you could feel his piercing inside you. His fingers came to rub little circles on your clit with expert precision, making your legs start to shake.

You dug your nails against his scalp as you humped your hips against his face, hearing his muffled moans encourage you from between your thighs. "Ohmygod Choso! I-I'm cumming-" You wined before you felt the knot start to unravel. Choso swore he almost came in his pants at how sensually you cried out his name, mentally recording it for later.

He kept up his ministrations on your pussy, drinking up everything you gave him as you came hard on his face, squishing his soft cheeks between your thighs. He was mesmerized as he watched your body shake and curl in on itself, he stared at your mouth as it dropped open and spilled out profanities and whines of his name, broken on your tongue. When your back relaxed against the seat of the car once more he slowed his fingers on your clit, careful to not overstimulate you.

"Holy f-fuck Choso." You whispered, leaving your hands in his hair and running them through your own, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You took a quick look around in the post haze of your orgasm and noticed how foggy the windows were, so much for trying not to be obvious; anyone with half a brain would know what was going on if they walked past your car.

After he made sure he licked you clean, he pulled his face back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, raising his body to sit comfortably on the seat as his other large hand came to caress your thigh soothingly. "Was that okay?" He asked, looking at you like a puppy.

"Okay?" You repeated, astonished he was asking as if he didn't just witness how hard you came, "I'm pretty sure that was the best orgasm I've ever had in my life." You laughed, making him smile at your words as your hand came down on top of his while he was petting your thigh. "Thank felt so good Choso, thank you." You said blushing as you closed your legs, noticing how exposed you were in comparison to him.

Of course, he picked up on this, he reached over to pick up your previously discarded panties from the floor of the car, wiping them off before he handed them, alone with your pants, to you. You said your thanks to him and he nodded shyly, a stark difference to how he was acting moments ago. It wasn't till you were almost finished getting dressed again when you noticed his massive boner. How did you not see it before? You felt so bad for letting him sit like that for god knows how long.

"Choso, you're hard." You said, stating the obvious. The man blushed and pulled his t-shirt over his hard-on to cover it. "Let me take care of it for you." You offered, leaning your body over his and placing your hands on his toned thighs, "I-Its okay-" His warm hands came down to grab your forearms, stopping you. "What? Really? It doesn't look okay," You giggled, looking up between your lashes at him.

Of course, he wanted you to get him off, that sounded perfect, but he needed to properly take care of you first. Your legs were still trembling and you were still out of breath, on top of that he could tell you were tired; that orgasm had taken a lot out of you, so he could wait. "Don't worry about me, I'll go down." He assured, rubbing his hands on your wrists soothingly and making you hum. "I still need to clean you up and make sure you're okay." He finished, making you blush. No man has ever said that to you before, and no man has ever eaten you out before tonight either but you wouldn't tell Choso that right now.

Truthfully, you were feeling tired, and the prospect of Choso cleaning you up didnt sound half bad right now, "Are you sure? It really wont take long." You offered one last time. He smiled and pushed your arms off of his thighs so he could leave the car, "Im sure, some other time." He said boldly, making you nod silently as he opened the car door and stepped out.

You started to do the same but his voice stopped you in your tracks, "Don't move." He ordered, so you didn't. It didn't take long after he shut his own door that he was opening yours, Choso now standing in front of you as he leaned inside the car and scooped you into his arms, making you giggle as he slammed the door behind him. "Choso! I can walk." You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he held you in a princess carry.

"Don't wanna take any chances, your legs are still trembling pretty hard." He said, making you blush and want to hide away at his exposing words. "I think you're the sweetest man I'll ever know." You said to him, smiling at his blushing face as he quickly avoided his eyes with yours. He moved his hand to effortlessly type in your door code as he brought the both of you inside, away from the chilly air.

I better be, he wanted to say, but opted to only acknowledge your words with a hum as the front door clicked shut behind the both of you.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ask me to leave and i’ll stay forever ; satoru gojo

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

word count; 10.8k

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

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

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

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

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

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

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

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

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

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

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

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

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

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

he looks so small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

moron.

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

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

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

but he just won’t listen.

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

”satoru.”

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

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

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

but most of all, you’re worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

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

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

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

it only makes you worry more.

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

you just want to give some of it back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

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

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

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

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

he wants to be good for you, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”it’s only four, satoru.”

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

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

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

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

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”hehe.”

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

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

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

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

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

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

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

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

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

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

”but —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

”your baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

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

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

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

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. but you’re not falling for it this time. 

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

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

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

so you opt to indulge him.

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

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

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

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

”you’re good.”

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

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

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

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

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

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

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

”of course.”

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

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

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

”your room is very like you.”

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

”… oh? how so?”

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

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

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

he closes his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

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

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

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

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

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

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

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

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

you reach something. 

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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