are you fr rn?

pointing to one of the lip balms, “ones for you so we can match.”

and he just laughs a huff out his nose.

when all the items get scanned through he nudges you and you pull out your phone to show your membership card so you can collect points. “i’m saving up my points for a new hairdryer.”

“how many do you need?” he hums, pulling out his wallet and licks his thumb to count his cash.

“about ten thousand.”

“how many do you have?”

“three hundred.”

he glances over at you, a raised eyebrow and cocked jaw. you can read him clearly, he thinks you’re being a little… optimistic. he hands three clean bank notes over to the cashier.

“thanks man.” he says to the cashier who looks at him with starry eyes. a dynamight fan you can only assume.

then to you, “i’ll just buy it for you. that’ll take you ages.”

he lets you take the bag of chocolate so you can nibble on some on the way and he grabs the two boxes of condoms, your blush, your multivitamins and the two lip balms in one hand.

“i just keep using them but i’m going to try. imagine a free hairdryer.”

takes your hand with his other hand and pulls you under his arm.

*puts a dandelion in your hair*

I’m sorry your romantic foibles were overshadowed by a big ass atomic lizard thing.

Let’s play the biggest game of kick the can on the internet.

it was insane. robby should’ve checked with his grandmother before he offered the spare bedroom, but that whitaker kid had one of the worst days he’d seen anyone have, like, ever. the idea of just letting him languish in a dingy, abandoned floor with no working AC was simply not acceptable.

and his bubbe ended up loving dennis! she’d give dennis the first scoop of kugel, which was, quite frankly, offensive.

but, the thing was, robby understood. dennis was so fucking likable.

he did more dishes than robby ever did. he watched terrible old lady television with bubbe and didn’t even make fun of it. he was quiet after nine and didn’t sneak in girls up to his room like robby did in med school.

having dennis across the hall was nice. he was funny in a subtle, plausibly deniable way. robby liked the guy. robby liked the guy a lot. a confusing amount.

robby had only snuck girls into his room. he’d never wanted a guy to knock on his bedroom door until now.

so when dennis did knock, robby’s heart pounded. robby had just showered a shift off and was lounging horizontally on his bed in his robe. “come-“ his voice crack and he cleared his throat. “come in!”

dennis was in his infuriatingly adorable pajamas. the pants were ridiculously long. the shirt was hanging on by a thread literally. his collar bones were exposed by the thin material. he was holding his old laptop, scrolling on it with a scrunched face.

dennis anxiously asked, “can you read this over for me? it’s basically a third of my grade and i think i sound like a fucking a idiot.” dennis put his laptop in front of robby on the bed, just sort of lingering by the foot of it.

robby finished the first page of fifteen before questioning, “are you gonna stand there the whole time?” he could barely comprehend the words he was reading knowing dennis was leering at him in his bedroom in just a terry cloth robe.

“oh, sorry.” dennis hesitantly sat down. he still intently observed robby, waiting for the inevitable edits.

they got closer, inch by inch, correction by correction, until robby had gotten to the bibliography.

robby, who was still laying down, actually had to crane his neck to look dennis in the eyes. his breath stuttered a little bit when he noticed how close they’d gotten, just an open laptop between them.

robby had to clear his throat again. “it’s good!” he hoped his hair hadn’t dried in that stupid way it could sometimes. “you’re a good writer.”

dennis looked down at his criss-crossed knees, nearly blushing. “thanks.”

robby slid the laptop down towards his legs, just to have less between them.

“no, it was really good. you’re…convincing.”

dennis laughed a little. “i’ve never been called that before.”

and robby was tired. he’d worked a double, he’d done CPR and hundreds of sutures and prescribed a billion different medications. he wasn’t liable for how he acted when a confusingly pretty boy like dennis came and sat on his bed with no regard for the effect he had on people.

robby pushed up on his elbow a little higher. “you have a way about you,” he whispered.

and robby could’ve sworn dennis looked down at his lips before he quietly asked, “you think so?”

robby’s eyes definitely wavered down when he replied, “i do.”

both nearly started leaning in when bubbe’s voice cut through the tension. she yelled from the kitchen, “boys, dinner!”

they both scrambled to get up. robby’s robe nearly came untied in his haste.

robby stuttered out, “just-just tell her i gotta get dressed.”

frat!gojo, who had a reputation that always clung to him like smoke—loud parties, chaos, and endless amounts of cheap alcohol with men and women practically throwing themselves at him, but none of his one night stands ever stuck around. no one ever really stayed.

frat!gojo, who was always perpetually bored of people, no one could ever really keep up with him, that was until you.

frat!gojo, who’s almost instantly enamoured by you, following you around like a lost puppy everywhere, just so you can give him even the slightest bit of attention.

frat!gojo, who almost whimpers when you roll your eyes at him, walking away as if he was never there, and he just knows he has to have you.

frat!gojo, who has your schedule memorised to the T (he found it while stalking your socials), waiting outside your classes every single day, with his tuft of white hair sticking out in the crowd, while following you around immediately while carrying your fat stack and books and your bag while you walk around campus.

frat!gojo, who’s always bored out of his mind when you aren’t in class with him—always pestering poor nanami because you aren’t around to slap some sense into him and tell him to focus.

frat!gojo, who’s almost afraid of how smart you are, his cock straining nearly painfully against his pants when you ramble on about the kreb’s cycle and whatnot, and all he can think about is what it’d be like to be quizzed from between your thighs instead.

frat!gojo, who’s had numerous filthy dreams about you, with you tying him down, walking all over him in your pretty boots, fisting his hair with your pretty hands—and he wakes up, his cock throbbing in his sweats, leaking beads of pre, he feels like an idiot while he wraps his hands around his dick.

frat!gojo, who muffles his moans into his pillows, cumming onto his pretty abs, all while gasping your name in between breaths. he know’s you’d kill him if you found out about the dirty little fantasies he’s had of you—but the very thought of you reprimanding him has him twitching, flushed against his abdomen all over again.

frat!gojo, who has a picture of you in his wallet, it’s a candid from when you were tutoring him, your lips in a focused pout while you were trying to explain your notes, and gods he just never got over how pretty you looked while being completely engrossed in the stupid text that sat in front of you.

frat!gojo, who knows he’s down bad but he just couldn’t care less. so, if you see satoru gojo being yelled at by a pretty nerd, do NOT come save him. he is exactly where he wants to be.

i missed this too. @yoonsucks @cursedkisss @yorikae @6x-x9