#// /HE'S FORGETTING THAT HIS BIRTHDAY IS NEAR.

[demi-god77]

BYLER GATES: A GUIDE

(Explaining all the different theories, for anyone who is also lost with how many there are)

THE BIG 4

Flickergate: This theory involves a lot of time shenanigans and is connected to the Will having powers in s5 one (possibly manipulation of time or electricity). Theory claims Will and Mike will kiss in the UD, specifically outside Mike's garage, paralleling 1x01. Will is going to tell the truth at the same time his s1 self is ("it was a seven"), causing the garage light to flicker on Nov. 6th 1983.

Birthdaygate: This theory suggests that the Duffers didn't actually forget Will's birthday is March 22nd (the day of the rink-o-mania incident). It claims that Vecna is actually manipulating the characters' memories (possibly even Will's), making them forget his birthday in the process, maybe in an attempt to make him feel excluded/lonely and making him vulnerable. (Similar to the beginning of Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets, which happened to be on the inspo board for S4)

But also the Creel murders themselves happened on March 22nd.

Churchgate: More UD kiss related theories! This one claims Will is going to get Vecna'd or possessed in the Upside Down church (and that he's going to hurt/choke Mike in the process). With a crazy amount of religious symbolism, Mike would be the one breaking him out of his trance, through a kiss or a confession.

(More thorough explanation here.)

Lettergate: This gate's truthers believe that Mike did actually write to Will in the time period between s3 and s4, but never sent the letters. Said letters (signed "Love, Mike") are going to make an appearance in s5, revealing his true feelings. (Great post that has to do with this gate here)

Also related to:

OTHER GATES

Pocketgate: Very connected to Lettergate™️, this theory has to do with Mike's infamous triangle shaped pocket in S4. It suggests that the letter signed Love, Mike is hidden in said pocket throughout s4, since it very closely resembles an envelope. Triangles have also been used in ST as a queer symbol (with Robin) and Mike's pocket consistently points to Will like an arrow.

Phonegate: Kinda similar to the previous two, this gate claims Mike did actually call the Byers in Lenora. For some reason, the calls didn't go through, either because of Joyce's telemarketer job OR because of Vecna manipulating things again (cough, birthdaygate, cough).

This is backed up by one of Dustin's lines, saying that the Byers' phone line is always busy and Mike won't stop complaining about it. We know he must have been calling WILL, since the whole reason he was communicating with El using letters is that they couldn't talk on the phone.

Loverslakegate: Related to Lovers' lake (obviously). The lake is shaped like a heart, tying into its name, but it was split in two after the gates opened, now resembling a broken one (and Mike is ofc referred to as "the heart" so it could be a reference to him).

According to this theory, Mike and Will are going to kiss/become lovers near said lake/Reefer Rick's house.

Heartgate: To put it simply: Heart reflections EVERYWHERE. This one is better explained through pictures:

Also: Different heartgate but really interesting

Colorgate: I don't think I have to explain this one tbh but anyway

Blue meets yellow in the west.

Mike and Will have been HEAVILY associated with blue and yellow respectively since the beginning of the show (even wearing eachother's colours in both of their arguments). There's an insane amount of evidence that backs this one up.

It's speculated that the Russian code in s3 was foreshadowing for s4 ("The silver cat feeds when Blue meets Yellow in the west") Silver cat: Vecna who started killing when Mike (Blue) met Will (Yellow) in the west (California, literally west of Indiana)

Curtaingate: "They don't spent their lives trying to get a look at what's behind the curtain [...] They like the curtain. It provides them comfort, stability, definition" -Murray 2x05

Mike and El are pretty consistently framed in front of CLOSED (and more often than not, yellow) curtains, or ones that have closed blinds. According to this theory, closed curtains represent not being honest with one's true feeling. So, the truth about Mike's feelings is beyond the curtain and in s5 he will open it (and come out)

Motelgate: This one has to do with the dreaded two day time skip at the end of S4. Theory claims the Cali crew stayed at a motel during that time skip and the scenes were cut for time, but we'll flash back to them in s5. It's based on a photo a production assistant posted from the New Mexico filming, as well as some bts pics of the Cali Crew playing board games in a motel.

Shoegate: In S4, we see a pair of Will's shoes in his bedroom. In s5, Mike seems to be wearing that exact pair. This, in addition to the fact that they wear the same shoe size (a 10 according to their rollerskates from 4x02), lead people to theorize they will share clothes/shoes in s5. More importantly though, this theory suggests Mike is figuratively being put into Will's shoes (maybe pining?). Also, both of them wear the same shoes they wore in s2. Interestingly enough though, even though the design is the same, the colors are reversed (so their roles will be reversed too).

Possessiongate: This one runs DEEP so I'm going to link a bunch of posts

To put it VERY simply: this theory claims Vecna somehow attached himself to Mike (maybe when the vine grabbed him by the leg in the S2 tunnels- right before he started acting weird in s3 and s4) and he has been influenced/possessed for some time now.

He's not the dungeon master anymore, he's not in control. Both in s3 and s4 someone ELSE is the DM when they play D&D (Will and Eddie respectively)

More here and here

Victimgate: Very closely related to the previous one, this one suggests that MIKE was originally supposed to be Vecna's 4th victim instead of Patrick. Since Max escaped the first time, SHE ended up being the last victim but the original plan was for it to be Patrick. However, Patrick's curse doesn't fit the theme of all of the previous ones. We only see one of his visions, he gets cursed for ONE DAY, as opposed to the other 3 that are cursed for almost a week and we also know very little about him, even though we gradually knew more about the previous victims. Chrissy (no relation to main characters) -> Fred (friends w/ Nancy) -> Max (main character who we've known since s2)

More thorough explanation here

Twelvegate: This one is not really Byler related but i wanted to include it anyway

Theory claims Will was one of the lab kids (specifically 012) and him and El are actual twins. There are mentions of Will and El looking similar since s1, and a lot of twin imagery.

This theory obviously ties in with the Will having powers one and some people believe he wasn't 012, but him and El have a deeper connection/may be actually related. It could theoretically explain Henry's connection to Will, as well as things like El seemingly recognizing him in s1.(Alternatively called rainbowshipgate, because of the rainbow ship drawing Joyce mentions in s2 and the rainbow room)

Eightfifteengate: Again, not explicitly Byler but it's quite crazy.

TL;DR: The time 8:15 seems to have great significance in the show and it's mentioned all the time, if not by the characters themselves, (Eg. "It's 8:15, you're late"- El s2) then by small details in the background. There's even a whole track named after it.

Will left the Wheelers' house at 8:15 and it's the EXACT timestamp of his disappearance in 1x01. It's also the time in which most of the UD related weirdness happens and so it's very likely the UD is stuck on 8:15. (Also you know, 15-8=7)

Radiationgate: Related to the previous one! Clocks in Chernobyl are stuck on 8:15 and Hiroshima has been described figuratively as being frozen in time. Henry has burns identical to Chernobyl victims and almost all of his + his victims' symptoms can be explained through radiation exposure. As this post explains, for radiation levels between 8.3-11 Gy (SI unit for absorbed radiation), symptoms start with headaches and disorientation, move on to unconsciousness and bleeding (the exact symptoms of his victims) and finally, death happens at around 7 days (which is about how long Vecna's curse lasts AND how long Will was in the UD for)

Whiterabbitgate: The song "White Rabbit" is the first song in the show and it plays when we first get a sense of El's powers. Theory suggests it will also be the last song in the show (coming full circle) with either Will using his powers, or Willel using their powers together.

In general though, ST has a lot of similarities/parallels to Alice in Wonderland. The white rabbit constantly being late (Mike is late to something at the start of every season), great significance to clocks/ticking/time, a lot of hallucinations/visions, the overall similarities between the Upside Down and Wonderland. Henry's sister was literally named Alice Creel and there is SO much rabbit imagery throughout the show. There are also direct references to AIW with set pieces and paintings.

Soundtrackgate: This one has to do with the Stranger Things OST and the overall insane musical symbolism throughout the show. A lot of different theories talk about the show's soundtrack, but this one talks about 3 tracks in particular: Being Different, The First Lie, The First I love You

To put it briefly: "The First I love You" plays in both Robin's coming out scene and El's kiss with Mike at the end of s3 (Already a weird parallel). The three tracks not only share the same melody, but they also sync up perfectly. "Being Different" (s4 van scene) and "The First Lie" (Nancy and Jonathan's kiss in s2) especially, match up together to create an entirely new track, completing eachother. The scenes featuring those three tracks also share very similar themes at their core. (This post goes into a lot of detail!)

Playlistgate: Character playlists! At a certain point, every character's official playlist on Spotify was deleted, except for three: Mike's, Will's and Billy's. Songs were seemingly being added/deleted for no reason to the Mike and Will ones and people were struggling to make sense of it all.

Also, Mike's character playlist in particular is VERY interesting (so many byler coded songs, as well as "Smalltown Boy" a gay anthem, about a young gay boy forced to leave his home town to escape from their disapproval and homophobia.) There are three playlists on Finn's spotify that are very incriminating. "Love songs" (That has "BOYS DON'T CRY" on it, a song that Will literally has a poster of in his room), "drive" and the most recent one "STurn". These playlists feature songs like "Let her go", "Angst in my pants", "Me and Michael", "Gay thoughts" just to name a few. Basically a lot of the songs on all four playlists seem very relevant to some complicated feelings about Mike's relationship with El/Will but also with himself and his sexuality.

Scriptgate: Oh boy. Here we go.

On August 5th 2022, the byler fandom got #bylerscript trending worldwide on Twitter while waiting for the 8flix account (run by Nick Runyeard) to release some supposed s4 scripts (that people PAID for, mind you). These scripts dropped on August 8th, featuring lines like: "I hate who I am" from Will in the van scene, "His mouth dry, like a California summer" from the bedroom apology scene and also, Will seemingly recognizing Brenner at NINA, despite never meeting him in canon.

These turned out to be fake and the community was in shambles. Nick started calling people psychos, the Stranger Writers tweeted that everyone got scammed, Nick privated his account and the authenticity of some released s2-s3 scripts was questioned. This post explains the entire situation in detail.

Breathgate: This one is also script related and specifically about a Mike/Max parallel.

In the official van scene script, when Mike sees Will's painting "his breath catches." Then, when Lucas asks Max to the Friday movie date, "(her) breath catches" as well. People caught on that parallel very fast and since the latter is obviously a romantic moment, it boosted their confidence for both Byler and Lumax endgame.

Piggybackgate: This one refers to two different situations/theories.

One, the seemingly deliberate framing of Mike and Will inside the little bubble in El's piggyback drawing (and it referening to Byler). The framing is especially suspicious, because the bubble drawing was drawn two separate times (it's different from one shot to the other). In the second shot, they're framed directly inside of it.

Two, Mike in his monologue essentially piggybacking off of Will's van confession. His monologue was going off of El's feelings, but since they weren't actually El's, the speech was based on Will's feelings. It also ties in with the parallel/foreshadowing between the monologue and Suzie's house, with Will being paralleled to the "director" kid, directing a "choking" Tabitha and their dad (more thorough explanation here).

THE SILLIES

(aka the joke-theories/memes)

Miniongate: Mike and Will are secretly minions. (Because you know, minions are primarily blue and yellow)

This information will be revealed to us in s5 and they will have a magical girl-esque transformation where we see their true minion form. (Original post here)

Localvillagegate: Related to the leaked Mike and El rooftop scene.

Basically, a mlvn used AI to lip read the scene and try to figure out what Mike is saying (and then posted the video on Twitter).

According to them, Mike was telling El they were going to leave the local village (AKA Hawkins) together and travel to a beautiful faraway land with "like, three waterfalls or something" (and also that she has to "improve her motivation", whatever that means).

People thought it was hilarious and started making a ton of memes based on it.

Parrotgate: This is directly connected to localvillagegate™️ and it was created by @cloudycleric in one of his streams.

Basically, the parrots are gay and represent Will and Mike, who in s5 will kiss under the three waterfalls depicted on the image.

Backgroundguygate: People making headcanons and creating backstories for random extras. The star of this gate is Barrett, an extra from the Lenora high school, who wears a barrette, bright red pants and a shirt that says "Hell".

According to this gate, he's actually gay and in love with Will. He has a goth best friend named Claire who is a lesbian and in love with El.

Chancegate: The theme of shipping Will with random extras continues on strong

Chance is one of Jason's friends and part of the basketball team. People thought he was attractive and somewhere along the line started making headcanons for him and shipping him with Will (Bychance). Basically, they're gonna date and Mike will be jealous.

Mikhailgate: More shipping Will with randoms! (I'm beginning to see a pattern here)

Originally created by @paladin-n-cleric

Enzo in S4 mentions his son, Mikhail Antonov. Mikhail is the Russian name for Micheal.

People started making jokes that Mikhail would arrive to Hawkins from Russia in s5 and shipped him with Will (Willhail), since he's like Mike but Russian and cooler. They made fanart, edits and posted pictures of Finn as Boris in "The Goldfinch" claiming it's Mikhail.

@will80sbyers then begun to ship Mikhail with El and thus the ship "Jail" was born.

Baldmikegate: Did you know Mike is actually bald and is bullied for it? Well, now you do.

In 2022, a cult was born and the byler tag was filled with edited pictures of Bald!Mike. Terrifying honestly.

Some people made posts about how the rest of the party feels about Mike's secret baldness and some even wrote FANFICS.

Gridgate/whiteboardgate/pixelgate: The Stranger Writers posted a picture of a pixelated/blurred whiteboard that had the entirety of s5 mapped out. People were desperately trying to decode it and figure out what was written on it.

On the space for episode 7, there was a "big black hole" that people went crazy trying to make sense of, only for it to be revealed as a pen holder.

Babygirlgate: The babygirlification of Mike Wheeler. That's it. That's the gate.

I think pretty much every line Will has ever said to Mike has been posted with the word "babygirl" replacing his name (it's hilarious and I love it)

Some examples here and here

Mattduffersbasementgate: Finn and Joe made up a third Duffer brother named Pete, who has no hair for some reason and is the actual writer of Stranger Things, while Matt and Ross are just the faces of it. Pete lives in a shed/Matt's basement and that's where he writes all of the scripts.

Finn and Noah are both also being held in Matt's basement however, and they're not allowed to leave so that they don't spoil byler endgame.

I definitely missed some gates, but omg this took SO LONG

(this post is for you @felix-fathoms @bibylers)

[urban-shade]

my random miscellaneous sebastian headcanons. readmore because its a LOT

current

i was thinking about if he'd use special sebastian shaped emoticons like .:} and }:. and im honestly 50/50 i can see him thinking they're funny but i can also see him not wanting to think about the fact that he's a fish now and no longer human

in general i think he has a lot of identity issues. He literally NEVER brings up the fact that he is fish-esque besides telling us that he's not going to hurt us, and telling us items are on his tail. I think if he was more comfortable with his identity he might occasionally crack a joke but I think deep down he has a mask up emotionally where he tries to forget about it all.

and that mask CRACKS a little when players repeatedly climb on him!! it brings back hard memories for him and that's the most upset we ever hear him.. he doesn't even get that upset when he kills you for flash beaconing him twice.. you can fucking hear the hurt in gianni's voice acting and its just SO . AGH.

past / pre-breakout

i like thinking about what they had him get up to as an LR-P and MR-P a lot. What if they had him assemble furniture to get him used to his new 3rd arm. He thinks he's getting new furniture for his cell but then they take it away and put it in the break room and he gets SO ANNOYED. Then the 2nd furniture they have him do he assembles it and then throws it at the observation room at the top of his cell.

He'd get a game console for like one day to ensure his mental capabilities are the same as before the experimentation and for like 2 years after that day he misses his video games until he gets to play games again when he's promoted to MR-P

I feel like near the very start of things just to get a whole overview of like everything that's changed about him even if gills is only what they really gaf about (million dollar fish might as well see what your money did) they'd be testing a lot of basic stuff. Like taste. And they'd give him some normal food of different types of tastes to see if he's lost any taste receptors and he'd be like so happy but then intentionally one of the foods is really bad. And he gets so mad

i headcanon he did dual enrollment (college+hs) since he switched his college major from business to engineering and he's only 19. And that he was a massive nerd... unfortunately his fishtuation has changed him :(

there is a massive urbanshade in-network group chat/email chain for the scientists. There are a lot of inside jokes and a lot are at sebastians expense

i feel like he got food requests on his birthdays. The highlight of his years

His first request for birthday food was like a recipe his mom made a lot and he got it and it was horrible and barely seasoned because urbanshade is the worst and also they are in Norway and he is NOT going to get properly cooked authentic chilean food. And he never requested chilean food again :( Didn't want to be disappointed

post game

i don't think he truly realizes how big he is and if he ever gets a real human frame of reference he's going to get extremely upset about it (if he was already on edge from something else.. he's practiced at hiding/burying his emotions). The blacksite doesn't have a ton of normal size comparison things for him besides smaller human objects and humans themselves, everything is sorta larger than life there and he might feel quite big but I don't think he has a proper idea of the real scale.

Even if he escapes, even if he could deal with all the problems that come from being a snake/mermaid/fishmonster guy. He is still way too big to fit in any normal human spaces. He is truly screwed unless he can get turned back human by innovation inc...

even if he does get turned back human by innovation inc he's going to have to relive his trauma all over again. i think about that a lot

i think he'd also be conflicted on turning back human like it's the one thing he's wanted for the past 10 years but also.. He's been like this for so long.. he doesn't really feel like Sebastian the kid with a guitar that liked Metallica. He's Sebastian Solace the Saboteur… The dangerous fish man who's been forced to kill a few people out of necessity (and indirectly cause the deaths of a few hundred others)

i think he'd get phantom limb pains from his 3rd arm if he lost it in the human transformation. Like he isn't even supposed to HAVE that arm as a person and yet his brain still expects it to be there. He keeps trying to use it and then it's gone

When he first meets his family again for the first time after he escapes I think he wouldn't be human yet. Before he lets them see him he like speaks to them from behind a door or something… To try and prepare them. He's really nervous about seeing them all again because he absolutely cares about them just the same but he just feels like an outsider now.. he's changed so much

All he wants is to get back to a normal life but, normal human life doesn't feel normal to him anymore. He almost misses the monotony of the blacksite. I feel like innovation inc would take a few months-year to get him turned back and he might try working for them in that time to try and adjust to being out of urbanshade since it feels familiar to him and they're more equipped to deal with a giant fish man than his family's home. But ever so often things there remind him of urbanshade and he goes back to feeling like he's about to be shot on sight.

biology

silver spiny fins are some of the best vertebrates at seeing color in low light conditions! i think he has that trait from them

mantis shrimp like to burrow. I think he has some kind of instinct where he feels more at home in small enclosed spaces (he loves blankets)

what if his upper body had sandpaper shark scales. i dont want to put him through that because can you imagine putting on a cotton shirt with sandpaper skin???? too cruel. but its fun to think about

i think he molts but its only like once a year. The first time he does it he has like absolutely no idea that's what's happening he's just like insanely itchy or something and then he realizes his tail skin has PEELED OFF and he's like (HORRIFIED) but then realizes what's going on . And then it takes forever for him to get it all off and he just stares at it like Eugh after

the second time he realizes he can use the shed to screw with the researchers. Researcher walks in his heavy containment cell in the morning and there's just like a massive translucent crumpled version of him in the corner and they just scream before realizing 2 seconds later

the scientists have a sped up video of him molting to metallica music like how people post timelapses of their snakes shedding

[trofysisters]

Тимофей

Похоже, жена Тимофея застряла в одной роли и не представляла свою жизнь иначе. Она хотела заниматься хозяйством и рожать, рожать, рожать, чтобы было не меньше 10 детей в доме, а еще завести котенка или щенка, а лучше - сразу обоих. (It seems that Timofey's wife was stuck in one role and could not imagine her life any other way. She wanted to do housework and give birth, give birth, give birth, so that there would be at least 10 children in the house, and also get a kitten or a puppy, or better yet, both at once)

Кто говорил, что воспитание детей - тяжкий труд? Сыновья и без ее участия в школе хорошо учатся, внеклассные занятия посещают, (Who said that raising children is hard work? The sons study well at school without her participation, attend extracurricular activities,)

на выходных сами себя занять дома могут. Один тихонечко в уголочке рисует. В этот угол мольберт и поставили. Другой читает книжечку от проповедника секты про какую-то реку. Впрочем, пусть Тимофей сам разбирается, чем его дети занимаются. (They can occupy themselves at home on weekends. One is quietly drawing in a corner. They put an easel in this corner. The other is reading a book from a sect preacher about some river. However, let Timofey figure out for himself what his children are doing)

А поскольку у него выходной, то и младшим близнецам пусть внимание уделит. (And since he has a day off, he should pay attention to the younger twins)

К тому же, у младших детей сегодня День рождения. Родных Тимофея решили в этот раз не приглашать, а то Тося плохо на внуков влияет. (In addition, today is the younger children's birthday. They decided not to invite Timofey's relatives this time, otherwise Tosya will have a bad influence on the grandchildren)

Оля и Тема были похожи не только внешне (цвет волос не считается), но и по характеру: опрятные, общительные, игривые, но ленивые и задиристые. (Olya and Tema were similar not only in appearance (hair color doesn't count), but also in character: neat, sociable, playful, but lazy and cocky)

Беременность сильно выматывала Олесю, поэтому она опять оставила детей на отца - у него же выходной. Тимофей был бы рад тоже отдохнуть, но близнецов нужно было учить. (Pregnancy was very exhausting for Olesya, so she left the children with their father again - he had a day off. Timofey would have been glad to rest too, but the twins needed to be taught)

Тема любил только папу и хотел, чтобы и тот любил только его, поэтому ему не нравилось, когда тот обращал внимание на кого-то другого. (Tema loved only his dad and wanted him to love only him, so he didn't like it when he paid attention to someone else)

Тимофею удалось отвлечь внимание младшего сына на игрушки, чтобы начать обучать дочь. О сне, еде и отдыхе в ближайшее время ему придется забыть. (Timofey managed to distract his youngest son's attention with toys in order to start teaching his daughter. He would have to forget about sleep, food and rest in the near future)

А пока родители не видели, в другой комнате Олег с упоением читал книгу о секретах сводничества. (And while his parents weren't looking, Oleg was reading a book about the secrets of matchmaking with rapture in another room)

[chronosbled]

{ Not me only just now realizing that Dickson’s birthday is less than a month away now. That moment when you got a birthday just five days away from Christmas and four days away from Christmas Eve. }

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR EX HUSBAND FINDS OUT YOU'RE DATING AGAIN, HOW DO YOU END UP FUCKING HIM IN YOUR BED ?? ❞

✧ pairing: ex-husband!satoru gojo x f!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you -- well you married him and you wanted him, but when he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you had no choice but to divorce him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date? and how is it you always end up under him?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, exes to lovers, modern au! (no curses), gojo is a CEO of a company, gojo has a daughter with you, divorced, some angst, switch! gojo, nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (near entryway), semi exhibitionism, sex (p in v), creampie, swearing,

✧ wc: 8,271

“You were supposed to be here at 6:00 PM,” 

Satoru Gojo stood in your doorway, as opposed to splashed on the covers of magazines and countless front page articles — you would think it would be business magazines, but you would only be partially correct — he made the covers of business, fashion, health, entertainment, and even a few women’s magazines. 

And what every single one had made apparent in their colorful print was that Satoru Gojo was anyone’s ideal man — the CEO of the wildly successful Six Eyes Corp, a philanthropist in his free time spent mentoring children and teenagers through establishing proper programs, and he was flawlessly beautiful — ocean blue eyes you could drown in, porcelain skin seemingly without a blemish or scar, and pretty lips that were a weapon when curled in a smirk. 

Just as they were now. 

“Well,” he smirks, leaning against your door frame, “I’m sure it’s 6:00 PM somewhere,” 

“Well, I’m not concerned with somewhere else since you daughter exists here, not elsewhere,” your words lacked their usual bite, only tinged with annoyance rather than cutting anger, “but good thing I told you to be here an hour and half earlier than I needed you,” 

Needed him as just as you did before you had divorced — just as you asked him to be. But he only grew more distant by the day — and soon he was already out the door when you had served him with divorce papers. 

And now, you can almost forget how it used to be — your eyes catch sight of the picture on your mantle of the two of you with your daughter, Satoru’s lips pressed to your cheeks as yours were pressed to your little angel — almost. 

He gapes at you as you walk inside, as he follows behind you, the click of the door closing overshadowed by the sound of his voice. 

“How could you lie to me, sweetheart? Thought we had a bond of trust,” you don’t have to look back at him to know he has a pout on his lips that would quickly melt into a grin if you conceded. 

“Bond of trust ended when you showed up two hours late to pick up our daughter,” and he grumbles, cheeks tinged with pink. 

“That was one time! I’m never that late. And it’s only on a Fridays when I have—“ 

“Meetings all day,” you finish with a sigh, “I know, Gojo, I know it’s not on purpose — but I know you’re always late on Fridays so I found a solution,” your lips curl, “anyway, our girl is napping still, so give her a bit before you wake her, but you can stay here until she does,” you’re shrugging off your bathrobe, littered with flecks of makeup, only to have a gorgeous black dress underneath. 

One that he very much hadn’t seen before — and he would know, he’s explored every centimeter very intimately of each one of your dresses, but this is new. His eyes skim down the exposed skin of your thighs — very new, but very familiar. 

He’s running fingers through his hair, not bothering to hide how his gaze rakes over his body, “Special occasion? Don’t tell me your birthday suddenly moved months, or I forgot our anniversary,” 

You scoff, as you pick out earrings from your jewelry box,  “Does an anniversary count when you’re divorced?” you can’t hide the hint of bitterness in your voice, and he’s stepping closer as you look in your vanity to put your earrings on, only to meet his gaze in the mirror, deep blue sucking you in as it always does. 

“But you’ll always be mine,” and you roll your eyes, expecting a cheeky grin, but find genuine longing in his expression, before it's hidden away behind a frown, “but you still haven’t told me where you’re going, sweetheart,” 

A sigh stuck in your throat, ignoring the use of your usual pet name that he had lost the rights when the ink dried on your divorce, as your teeth graze your bottom lip, “I have a date tonight,” 

He tilts his head, “A date?” and you can already hear it in his voice — ice creeping over usually still waters, “who’s the lucky guy? And do I get to meet him?” 

“And have you scare him off?” And he only grins in reply, hands slipping into his pockets. 

“If he’s intimidated by me, isn’t that more on him than me, sweetheart?” His footsteps only grow closer, as you turn to look at him, his hand on the wood of your vanity, nearly caging you in on side, “after all, he may be your date, but I’ll always be your husband, and the father of our daughter,” 

You didn’t know whether you wanted to kiss him or slap him — slapping him was self explanatory, but the want to kiss him was a lingering feeling, one that you couldn’t shed — no matter how much time passed. But that was the thing about Satoru Gojo — it was easy to fall in love with him, but even harder to fall out. 

And a part of you could never admit to yourself that you never did. 

No matter how hard you try.

“You haven’t been my husband for a year and half now, Gojo — a year legally now,” 

And he’s changing tactics, “You still haven’t answered my question, who are you going on a date with?” And you already can feel the beginning of a headache throbbing in your forehead, and you know why no one could say no to Satoru Gojo — because you’re sure he’s never understood it. 

“Why do you need to know?” And he's tilting his head, a small scoff parting his lips. 

“I need to know who you're potentially bringing home, don’t I?” and he’s far too close, and you don’t know why you’re not pulling away — his breath warming your skin, as he drags a finger down your cheek, “The man who might step foot in our home, might meet our daughter,” and his thumb brushes over your lips, “might kiss my wife—“ 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects you. 

You rub at your temples — yup, you definitely have a headache now. You brush past him, heading to the living room to pick up some of the mess, hoping your ex would somehow fall and hit his head on the doorframe and forget this conversation.

“And this dress?” Ah, no such luck, “did you buy it for the date?” 

“Do you keep a catalog of my wardrobe?” you scowl as you pick up the strewn about toys and things to collect into your daughter’s toy bin, and he’s bending down too to pick up your daughter’s things in his hundred thousand yen suit. 

“So you didn’t deny it,” and you sigh again, but grit your teeth all the same, his sharp words finely grating on your nerves. 

“This isn’t a business negotiation, you don’t win just because you use my words against me,” you stand up after picking up the last of the things, “yes it’s a new dress, and yes I bought it for the date since this is my first date in years, happy?” 

“Thrilled,” he says flatly, and you know it’s not the end of the discussion, “remember our first date?” 

And how could you forget? But you decide to humor him, if only for a break from the interrogation. 

“Which one? Because one was a date, and the other—“ 

He raises an eyebrow, “It was a date too, I asked you out—“ 

“You asked me to hang out—“ 

“And we kissed—“ 

“Only because I told you how I felt first—“ and he smirks again and you know you’ve dug yourself into a hole, cheeks burning at his stupidly smug face, “shut up,” 

“And what did you say again?” He slips the things you have in your hands into the toy box, his fingers brushing yours, and his touch is the same as you remember, even the barest brush was enough for your traitorous soul to yearn for more. 

“You know what I said,” his lips curl, the same smile he had given you all those years ago that made you fall for him in the first place, but his raise of his brow tells you he’s not going to let it go until you say it, “I told you that I liked you for a long time, and I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Because maybe by then it would be too late,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, featherlight — just as the bunches of butterflies that bloom in your stomach. 

“And you say that wasn’t a date,” and you scoff, biting back the small smile on your lips, “will any other first date compare to that?” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you know his brow is furrowed without having to look at him, “do you have to call me by my last name—“ 

“I do, because Satoru was my husband, and Gojo is my ex—“ 

“I’m still your husband—“ and you give a bitter chuckle. 

“In what world? We’re divorced, it’s over,“ 

“It doesn’t have to be,” 

“But it does. This isn’t me confessing to you on a movie night curled up on my twin bed. This is my ex-husband asking me to give him another chance far too late,” you slip past him, but he follows behind anyway, as you stand near the entryway to your home,  “it’s time to move on,” and you’re stepping from your bedroom and only reach the doorway when he speaks. 

“How can I move on when I never wanted to?” You still yourself in your tracks, fingers curling into a fist. 

Not this right now. Not now. “Gojo—“ you sigh. 

You’re so tired. You were hoping you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. You never had expected to have this conversation, not when you wanted to only marry one man your entire life was the one to break your heart. 

“It's almost two years too late for this conversation,” you willed your voice not to break — not when your heart was long broken by him, and you wouldn’t allow him to do it again, “you should have had it with me before I filed. When I asked you to spend your time with us, when I asked you to take time off, when I asked you to be present in our lives—“ 

“Sweetheart-“ and you snap. 

“Don’t call me that,” your quiet words hang in the silence, the wedding bells he heard in his head were nothing more than the sounds of bells drowning out the mourners screams, “don’t call me that when you don’t get to anymore,” 

“I’ll always be yours, sweetheart, a few papers don’t change that,” and he’s stepping towards you, but you’re rooted to your spot, and you want to say it’s stubbornness, but you know what it really is —weakness, because Satoru Gojo was your one and only weakness. And even now, walls raised and erected against him came tumbling down with one touch. 

Because he knew exactly where to touch and what to say. 

“Do you think any other man could please you the way I can? I know every place, every sound, every inch of you — inside and out,” he’s nearly against your back now, “are you going to let a stranger do that? Let them learn how to please you, but knowing your husband knows how to do it better,” 

“Ex-husband,” and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, “we shouldn’t—“ 

“And yet you’re letting me,” his nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, warm breath sending a shiver down to the tips of your toes, and his words sending a wave of need right to your core, “because you know it’s true,” his hands tentatively brush against your hips and when you don’t resist, he squeezes, drawing a gasp from you, lips curled in a smirk, “more sensitive than usual, Princess? Been too long?” 

“I swear to god—“ he’s cutting you off with a bruising kiss, a rubber band snapping back against your skin, and now it’s taut against you, ensnaring you in its grasp. And yet, his kiss is so sweet, affection dripping from the slide of lips to the caress of his fingers against your cheek, and it reminds you of just why you don’t want to let go. 

“You don’t have to swear yourself to me, but I’d appreciate it, Princess,” and his mouth reminds you of the reason you (and that you don’t). 

“Gojo—“ and he’s placing more kisses along your jaw now. 

“Shouldn’t you at least call me Satoru now that we’ve kissed?” 

“You’re impossible—“ 

“And yet I’m here,” his teeth nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tongue flicking over the blooming love bite, “almost forgot how sweet you taste,” he’s humming, as he kisses along your shoulder before he toys with the strap of your dress, “almost,” his large palms slide down your body, skimming your bare thighs as he’s pressing you against the walls, “but your skin isn’t what I want to taste,” 

You gasp, “we can’t—“ but why were you letting him? Irritation overrode by lust, and he knew the spots to make you bend to him, his hands squeezing your hips, “fuck you,” you wonder if his touch are phantoms engraved against your skin and muscles, forced to repeat the same patterns again and again — and a hand slides back up to cup your cheek. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” his lips find yours again, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before slipping inside. His hand is lifting your thigh around his waist, as his lips part from your own, eyes raking over your pretty, bitten red lips, “do you know how much I missed you?” 

“No, I don’t,” and his smile slips from his lips, as he cups your chin, “Satoru—“ 

“Even all the days I was gone, there wasn’t a second I didn’t think of you,” you waver a moment at the sadness rippling through his gaze, “I know I wasn’t there—“ his lips press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Why weren’t you?” 

And that’s when there’s a knock at the door that makes your heads snap over to stare at the door a good four or five feet from you, the shadow of feet visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, and you were sure it was your date. 

“Fuck,” you whsiper under your breath, “you have to go—“ your palms pressed flat against his chest, but Satoru doesn’t budge, “please, I have to get the—“ 

And his hand is slipping up and under your dress, hiking the material higher, “do you really want to go on your date like this, sweetheart?” His fingers graze your soaked panties, a gasp pulled from your lips, lithe fingers rubbing and pinching your clit through the thin fabric, “gonna go see him when you’re this wet?”

“Please—“ and his fingers snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin, drawing a squeal from your mouth, “fuck—“ 

“Any louder, Princess, and he might hear us,” he’s leaning down to press his forehead to yours, forcing your gaze to meet yours, “but maybe I should let him, let him know who’s the only one who can make you feel this good,” his words only make your cunt flutter, as if your body was in agreement, even if your mind was still in denial, “you’re much more honest down here, Princess, but you always were,”

Another knock as your attention is being tugged only for him to yank it back as his finger slips inside you. You’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your moans — his fingers were so much longer than yours, reaching places you could only have dreamed of — when you had dreamed of him. 

His finger squelches as he fucks you open, walls squeezing around him as your molten insides cling to his touch desperately. Small whines and pants are muffled against your hand as you clamp it over, your phone vibrating uselessly with your date’s messages inside your purse. 

“Please, Satoru let me—“ and he’s ripping your underwear, as he’s forcing your dress higher, “I have to tell him—“ 

“Tell him what?” His eyes are nearly glowing in the dim light of the fluorescents leaking in from the living room, “tell him you’d go on your date with him but you’re too busy being finger fucked by your husband?” And he’s sinking another finger into you, making your head loll back against the wall, “tell him that you’d let him fuck you in our bed, but you’re too busy letting me?” 

“Sa-toru—“ you’re biting back your whines, glancing at the door, but he’s forcing your gaze back to him, his thumb pressed against your chin, “just let me—“ 

And he’s turning you in front of the mirror near the entryway, forcing you to look at yourself — your lips kiss bitten and ruined, your dress hiked up and mussed, and underwear tugged down to your ankles. 

“Do you want him to see you like this?” His breath is hot in your ear, a soft murmur that makes your knees nearly buckle, “want him to see you how much of a mess I’ve made you?” His fingers sink into you again, a third finger with the other two. The lewd squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, your eyes catching sight of your own moans and pants in the mirror, your walls squeezing around them, “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, sweetheart, and now you can watch too,” he’s guiding your gaze back to watch yourself, watching him knuckle deep in your sweet cunt, “gonna make you watch your tight pussy break my fingers,” he spreads his fingers inside you, letting you watch your slice drip down his fingers and wrist and splatter on the floor.

And your head falls back against his shoulder — he’s thrusting into you faster, your walls working deeper and deeper into you — fingers curling against your molten insides, until he’s finding that one spot that has your lips falling open, “I’m so—” your voice is a broken whisper, and he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Please—“ 

“Cum f’me baby,” his thumb rubs at your clit, and you do, walls clamping down as you cum, his fingers relentless as they fuck you through your orgasm, a wordless moan of his name on your lips. He’s holding you up as he does, your body buckling under the pleasure, blood roaring in your ears that slowly ebbs away, as his fingers slow, and you’re shuddering under his touch, “good girl,” and your walls flutter as he pulls out as if they want him to stay, and he’s tilting your gaze, “watch,” your eyes open reluctantly, a small moan on your lips as you watch him carefully each one of his fingers clean, pink tongue darting out to lick at the trails of your juices that had dripped down his palm and wrist, “still the sweetest thing I’ve had, princess,” 

And there’s another knock, as he clicks his tongue, “Doesn’t give up does he?” and he’s pressing a kiss to your neck, “must have really done a number on him and he’s willing to wait this long for you, huh?” he hums, nuzzling the hollow of your throat, “but I can relate. So, should I let him down for you?” 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his cheeky gaze with a glare, “Don’t you fucking dare,” 

“What? You still want to go out with him? Be my guest, but,” and he’s pulling at your ruined underwear until they rip under his touch, “can’t wear these, can you?” you gape at him as he pockets the ruined panties with a shit eating grin, “for later,” and you’re scoffing, and you hear a call of your name through the door. 

And you take a better look at yourself — completely disheveled and marked up along your neck from his kisses and nips, your skin shiny with a sheen of sweat, and your lips obviously bruised and bitten from his treatment. 

“Fuck,” you can’t go out like this — it looks as if you’d spent the morning before getting ravished, panic sets in as you hear his voice through the door. 

“Want me to send him on his way?” Satoru’s hands curl around your waist, “our angel’s still fast asleep, and that means we can spend some time together—“ 

“Fuck off,” you hiss, walking over to the door, “Atsuya, I’m sorry I can’t go out today. I’m not feeling well,” 

“Eh? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” And Satoru steps forward to speak but you cover his mouth with his hand. 

“No, I’m fine, but I have the flu and I’m still contagious, so I don’t want to get you—“ Satoru drags his tongue between your fingers — this fucker, “sick,” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and take care of you?” Satoru’s hands are dragging over your sides, squeezing your far too sensitive hips. 

“Hear that?” Satoru’s whispering to you between the gaps of your fingers, “He wants to take care of you. Should you let him? Maybe he could fuck you better in the home we bought together and in the bed we shared,” 

“No, I’m fine, really, I-I—“ and Satoru’s sucking at your finger, tongue curling around the digit, and you grit your teeth, “I’m going to rest. I’ll text you later, I’m sorry—“ and you don’t get to hear the rest of what he says, as Satoru’s pulling your hand away, and finding your lips in another kiss. 

You hate how good this man is at kissing, his lips and touch must have the ability to leech sense from your brain, and leave lust in its place. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you mumble against his lips, as his lips burn a trail of kisses down your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me, except that I love you,” he’s pouting again, “you think that guy could please you the way I could?” 

“No, but maybe he would actually be there,” you bite back and his kisses pause, smirk slipping into a frown. 

“I know I’ve made mistakes—“ 

You give a bitter chuckle, “Mistakes? You left us,” 

He opens and closes his mouth, “you’re right I did, and I’m sorry,” his words are slow, but so is the anger building inside you, “but I’m asking for a second chance, begging for one more chance—“ 

You finally turn to face him, and you can only hope the tears welling in your eyes weren’t noticeable, “You don’t get to beg, when I already did,” your voice finally breaks, as your clenched fist shakes, “where were you? After our daughter was born, you were gone. You kept saying you would make time for us, you would be there for us, but you just busier and busier, and the only time I’d see you were the nights you made it home to crawl into bed,” 

“I—“ 

“No, I’m tired, I’m tired of waiting and being upset, I’m so done—“ and he’s pulling you into his arms, and the familiarity of his grasp is nearly enough for your defenses to crumble, but you can’t, “Satoru” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I did wrong. I know I don’t deserve you or our baby, not after all I did,” he’s murmuring, “but it was never because of you or her,” 

Tears spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks, “I used to cry, thinking that not only that I wasn’t enough, but your daughter wasn’t enough either—“ 

“You weren’t the ones that wasn’t enough,” he cuts you off, “I am,” the last words come out a whisper, as he runs fingers through his hair, “I’m the one who wasn’t good enough,” 

You stare at him, “What do you mean?” 

He’s scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know how to be a husband, much less a father. I didn’t think I even wanted to be either, until I met you,” his voice softens, “and then I wanted it all if it was with you,” 

“Satoru—“ and he’s shaking his head. 

“I thought I could handle it — but when I saw you two — the two most important people in my life — how much you were counting on me, how much you needed me to not fail — I threw myself into work,” he’s swallowing, “I thought if I could support you both, things would get better. But it only made things worse because I pushed myself away,” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought I’d mess it up — I don’t know how to be a father. I didn’t even know I wanted to be a husband until we got married,” and you swallow, “I thought I never would after watching my dad neglect and abuse me and my mom,” you knit your brow together, “and there were so many nights when you were sleeping, I got so frustrated with our angel. She wouldn’t sleep, she screamed for hours, and I just felt like I had failed her. And I would just fail you too,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “so—“  

“So you ran away,” you finish, voice caught in your throat. 

He gives a curt nod, “And when you filed, I knew it was coming, but I thought you both would be better off. I thought even if I was miserable, it would be worth it to see you two happy—“ 

“Satoru, do you think I would be happy without my husband?” Your sigh stuck in your throat as your fingers find his cheek, featherlight, but he crumbles and melts against it, as if he was a statue made to wait for your touch, “you’re nothing like your father. I see you with Satomi, I see how much you love her — you dote on her, you know what she likes — she gets a cut and you’re panicking,” you chuckle as he huffs, a cute blush settling over his cheeks, “and you were a good husband, when you talked to me and didn’t run away,” 

“I know,” and the question unspoken hangs in the air, “can I be again? Your husband,” and your instinct is to pull him into your arms, where you wanted him to be, where you always wanted to be, but your instinct is tangled in fear, barbed wire dragging you down and digging into your skin. 

“I want you to be,” his eyes light up, hope flicking across his gaze like a comet tail, until it burns out with your next words, “but I’m scared,” you swallow, arms crossed, hoping if you physically hold yourself maybe you could hold yourself together, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” 

“I won’t, I promise,” he’s cupping your cheek again, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, “every night I only thought of you and Satomi — there’s no one else that matters,” he’s drawing closer again, it makes you want nothing more than his touch again — it had been too long — too long without him. 

And your lips find his again, it’s a chaste kiss at first, a breath shared a centimeter apart, as his eyes find yours, brow furrowed, “We have a lot to talk about,” you murmur, as your lips graze his again, and he’s chasing your lips, “but it’s going to take time,” God, you want to kiss his knowing pout away, as you drag a thumb down his lips, “a lot of making up to me and our angel,” He’s nodding obediently, a complete puppy under your touch, as he shivers as your fingers run through his hair before tugging, “are you ready for that?” 

“Yes, baby,” he’s biting his lip, fingers twitching wanting to touch you. 

Your lips curl, “Good boy.” 

“All that big talk and now look at you, Toru,” Satoru’s white knuckled fingers fisted at the sheets of your shared bed, as your own fingers teased the head of his leaking cock through his boxers, “such a mess for me,” 

You kneel at the foot of your bed, settled between his thighs, and though you were on your knees, you were the one who held the power. Fingers tracing the trigger right within your grasp, his cock twitching against your hand. 

“Please, sweetheart, fuck,” he’s hissing when your lips lean down to press a kiss to his clothes weeping slit, the wet heat of your mouth seeps through, making him twitch against your touch — a spark of need that burns against his skin and boils his blood underneath with need, “please, don’t tease me,” 

“Well that’s not fair,” you hum, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the elastic against your skin, sending a shiver up his body along with an ache that reaches his bones — and he wondered how he had let your grip on him grow this deep — and how he had ever let it go when it felt this good, “when you’re being teased I’m supposed to relent, even though you made me cum downstairs in my entryway?” 

And he’s swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing just as anticipatory as the rest of his body, a bow string drawn tight just waiting for you to release it. But you wished to toy with the arrow more. 

“I have half a mind to make you clean my cum off the floor with your tongue,” you click your own tongue as a taunt, but that only makes him squirm, “but maybe I’ll spare you since you’re being so good for me,” you’re dragging your fingers down his boxers, freeing his cock— already far too hard, flushed and dripping with precum as it slaps against his stomach, the flared head nearly begging you to touch it, “tell me what you want,” his cock is far too gorgeous, you thought that from the first time you saw it  — long and curved, and the veins that ran along it were so pretty— just like the man himself. 

And a whimper escapes his lips, “sweetheart, please, touch me—“ 

“With what?” you thumb his tip lightly, smearing the cum down his shaft, “my fingers? Or my mouth,” and your lips lick the pre that clings to your thumb clean, dragging your thumb down the flat of your tongue. 

“Y-Your mouth,” and you’re smiling, your lips curling as his pretty gaze pleads with you, “please,” 

“Imagine your subordinates saw you like this, begging your ex-wife to blow you, nearly ready to blow your load already just from fingering me,” your fingers toy with his balls, while you leans down to trace the tip of his tongue up the bottom of his cock, “what do you think they’d say?” And your lips part to let his engorged tip enter, as his head falls back with a groan, the wet and warm mouth, as you start to bob your head up and down his length. 

“Fuuuuck, pretty,” and you’re pausing as you wait for a reply to your question, his own tongue tying itself in knots, “think I’m down bad for my wife,” he’s grunting, the words ‘my wife’ and his groans sending white hot arousal to your needy cunt, “think I’d let her fuck me anyway she wants and they would be right, sweets. I’d let you use me,” your tongue is wrapped around his length, as his dick sinks deeper into your mouth, nose brushing against his pubes, his hips held taut as he forces himself not to face fuck you. 

And his eyes flutter down to meet yours, only to find your eyes drowning in lust, molten with need that nearly burned him with want, lips sloppy and dripping with a mix of precum and your spit out of the corners of your mouth, and your fingers —buried deep in your cunt as you sucked him off. 

Fuck. 

With the nasty way you slurped at his length, the noise ringing in his ear as your fingers begin to squeeze and stroke his balls, he wasn’t going to last much longer. His hips bucked against your mouth, and he’s muttering apologies but you let him, moaning as his tip hits the back of your throat. 

“I’m close—where—“ and you’re sucking hard, tongue flicking against his slit and when he fucks your mouth once, twice — he’s gone. He’s cumming down your throat, hot spurts of cum painting your lips and mouth, his head falls back, fingers gripping the sheets as his eyes flutter open. And he watches you pull away from his cock, sticky strings of cum and saliva connecting you to his length still, “fuck, sweetheart,” his softening dick already twitching at the sight of you — your pretty tongue darting out to lick his cum from your lips. 

“You taste as good as I remember, Toru — always so sweet,” and you’re pulling your own fingers from inside your tight pussy, and he snaps. 

You’re on your back on the bed now, flopped down against the mattress as his hand closes around your wrist of the hand that was just inside you. Your words are lodged in your throat but come out a shiver when he brings your soaked fingers to his lips, he kisses each one before sucking and licking them clean. 

“Toru—“ and he pulls away from the last finger with a pop, eyes clouded with need, “I—“ 

“And you say I taste good?” he’s humming, as he leans over you, “wait until you taste yourself, Princess,” and his mouth is insistent on giving you an entire course of your taste on his tongue, mapping out a detailed cartography of very crook and crevice of your mouth, “aren’t you so much sweeter?” He’s pulling away from your bitten red lips, spit connecting your lips still, “and that taste is all mine, just like you, wifey,” 

The pet name sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, stoking the burning need already threatening to consume you both, “Toru—“ and he’s already stripping your dress away, pulled away up and over your head, thrown away like every thought of why this was a bad idea. Your nipples perk in the cool air of your bedroom and under his hot gaze, standing at attention as if they’re begging for his attention. And he’s more than happy to oblige. 

His fingers toy with the buds, rolling between your forefinger and thumb, until he’s bending down to take one in his mouth, and you’re arching into his touch, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulders. 

“Bet Atsuya would love to see you like this, huh?” He’s switching to the other side, teeth dragging against your nipple to draw a gasp from your lips, “Would love to see you such a mess like this, spread out and needy,” and he’s spreading you with warm palms, his half hard cock brushing against your thigh, “Were you gonna let him fuck you on this bed? Our bed?” 

He doesn’t allow you an answer as his fingers spread your dripping walls, “Gonna let him taste you like this?” His lips warm your fluttering pussy, nearly begging for his touch and to swallow you whole, “when I already said this pretty cunt was mine,” he clicks his tongue far too close, making you whine, “g’nna have to answer my question first, Princess,” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” and he presses a chaste kiss to your dripping pussy, making you whimper, your walls spasming around nothing, “Toru,” 

“Remember when we moved into this home?” his lips are teasing your inner thigh, teeth dragging against your hot skin, “we broke the bed in all night long,” he’s looking up through half lidded eyes, “think he could please you like that? Make you moan his name?” 

And you’re growing desperate as his lips draw close to your clit, tongue dragging against it, only to pull away to your thighs again, “no, no, only you, Toru, please—“ 

“Only I what?” oh you know he’s goading you, but your want is drawn taut like a stringed instrument, tweaking your strings when you’re dying for him to play you — “c’mon sweetheart,” 

“Only you make me feel this good — fuck, Toru, I swear to god—“ your head falls back into the pillow as his face buries itself in your cunt, his laugh vibrates against your walls, pleasure rising faster than smoke from a burning building. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place now, settled between your legs. 

“You swear to me what?” and you swear his god complex gets worse and worse, and the way you moaned with his head between your legs wasn’t helping, “sorry, Princess, I have my mouth full,” and his tongue as silver as his words were, parting your folds with ease, as his lips slurped at your folds messily. 

Fuck, he was too good at it, and he knew it, smirk on his lips as the wet, nasty noises of his mouth wrapped around your cunt and your bordering pornographic moans filled the silence. Pleasure ribboned up your body, mixing with the sharpness of his fingers pressed against your plush thighs to keep you in place. 

“Gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, Princess,” and you hear the telltale squelch of his hand around his weeping dick — the shudder of your groan making him moan all the same, “taste so fucking good, never gonna go a night without tasting you again,” he murmurs far too reverently with his tongue dipping back into your folds for more of your juices, “you know how many times I fucked my fist to the thought of eating you out again? Never gonna spend a second without burying myself in this cunt,” 

“Toru, I’m close—“ and you are, greedy tongue flitting over your clit, his nose bumping against his folds, and the practiced ease of his touch — he knew just what to do to make you cum. And he did, his mouth closing around your clit, before sucking harshly. 

You cum on his face, swallowing your slick with the thrust of a desert weary man, his eagerness apparent on his soaked face, as you finally came down your high. He doesn’t waste a drop, only pulling away with a pop when your orgasm ebbs away, licking his lips clean of your juices. 

“Still dripping even after I licked you clean?” He clicks his tongue as he watches your slick soak the sheet, “gonna have to find another way, maybe you need something bigger,” he hums in fake contemplation, “what can we use?” 

“I have some sex toys that might do the trick,” and he scoffs, as he kisses up your body, before pressing his hard erection against your thigh. 

“Don’t think any toy you have compares to me,” and you’re gasping as he drags the head of his cock against your puffy clit, “nothing can fill you up like I can,” and he groans as he watches your releases mix, “just for that, g’nna make you beg for it,” 

“Toru,” you’re whining, but he’s only teasing your entrance with the head of his dick, your walls fluttering, already begging for him to sink into you, but he’s waiting for your mouth to do the same, “please, fuck me, I need you inside—“ 

He grins, “Well how can I deny my pretty wife when she asks so nicely?” And he’s splitting you open with his thick cock, balls deep with only a thrust of his hips. Your hands are grasping at him for purchase, needing to hold onto him as his cock stretches your walls out. It’s as if you remember him, walls sliding to accommodate him as they always did, but clinging to him desperately, a grunt parting his lips, as if they never wanted him to leave again. And you didn’t. 

“So fucking tight, Princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, a swallow roll of his hips drawing a chorus of moans from both of you, “don’t have to break my dick off to keep it — I’ll take you anytime you want,” and he’s pressing your thighs forward, slinging one over his shoulder, as he presses himself even deeper. 

A whine leaves the back of your throat, “too deep, Toru,” and his cock twitches inside you at that, “fuck,” and it takes everything in him not to blow his load there and then, 

“You love it when I fuck you like this, Princess, or do I have to remind you?” And he does, beginning to piston in and out, the lewd slaps of skin and moans filling the air of your bedroom, “be careful or our daughter might wake from the sounds of her mommy getting fucked,” he clicks his tongue, “maybe we should give her another sibling?” He’s watching the way your cunt eagerly welcomes his cock, sinking in and out with ease, “fuck another baby into you, hm? Would you like that princess?” 

“Toru, ngh,” your walls flutter at the thought of a kid, of his seed filling you up, “please—more—“ 

He gives a chuckle, “I’ll give you everything, sweetheart — fuck you so full that you’ll be dripping with my seed for days,” he’s grunting, legs trembling as his thrusts grow more sloppy as his orgasm begins to build, “fuck, you feel so good for me, “gonna give you another baby, make sure everyone knows you’re mine, my wife—“ 

“G’nna cum, Toru,” you’re falling back against the mattress, as he bends down to press a messy kiss to your lips, all tongue and teeth, before his fingers reach down to rub at your clit. Your eyes finding his, face flushed a pretty pink, eyes shrouded in a deep lust that was reserved only for you, and as he bucks into you even deeper, he brushes against that spongy spot that has the taut string snapping as you fall apart. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, as he grazes teeth along your neck before biting. And you cum hard, toes curling as your mouth falls open with only moans of his name on your lips. The way your walls squeeze around him has him only rutting into you harder, deeper, messier — as he watches the ring of cum pool around the base of his cock, fucking you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum—“ and you’re pulling him into another kiss, legs wrapped around him as he falls over the edge with you. Hot cum spills in ropes inside your walls, his hips rolling as he does, if only to fuck his cum deeper inside you. 

“Toru, s’good, I—“ you’re incoherent nearly under him, soft kisses pressed along your jaw as you both come down from your highs, cock softening inside you only him to pull out, another groan of your name on his lips when he watches his cum drip from inside you, staining your thighs along with the sheets. 

And you whimper when he’s gathering his spilled cum on two fingers only to push it back inside, “can’t let you waste a drop, can we, sweetheart?” 

He’s finally pulling away, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he finds your lips in a lazy but far too sweet kiss, “Toru,” you mumble, “I never stopped loving you, because I don’t think I ever could,” 

His eyes grow glassy, his fingers finding the back of your neck, “I know nothing I’ll do will make up for what I did — to you and Satomi, but,” he presses his forehead to yours, “if you both let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” 

And tears burn at the corners of your eyes, “Just stay with us, and promise to never leave — that’s enough,” and your lips brush his, “you’re more than enough for us, Satoru,” and he kisses you again and again and again, nearly climbing on top of you again, when you both hear a tiny gasp from the door. 

Your heads both snap over to your baby daughter leaning against the door, badly hidden behind it, as she pokes her head in, “did mommy and daddy make up?” 

Your cheeks burn as you cover your face — you both had checked on Satomi before but she was fast asleep still, and now — you checked the time — 9:30 PM, you were sure she’d be up all night. 

“Yes baby, mommy and daddy had some stuff to talk about,” Satoru grabs your robe for you, handing it over as he pulls his discarded boxers on under the sheets, “come here,” and she squeals as she runs into her daddy’s arms, Satoru scoops her up before pressing kisses all over her face, her giggles and his grin nearly too much for you. 

“Now she’s gonna be up all night,” you murmur to Satoru, and he’s smiling. 

“I can tire her out,” he grins, and then he adds with a whisper, “and then I’ll tire you out,” and you flush, shoving him playfully, “come on, my love, let’s go play for a while and let mama rest,” and he’s sliding out of bed, carrying her out of the bedroom, and you watch him, lying on your side, with a smile on your lips.  

Maybe it wasn’t so bad having a husband — especially when it was Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru lets you and Satomi sleep in the next morning, making a smoothie for himself, as he starts to prepare breakfast. He did tire you both out last night, especially you — and you did some exhausting of your own, his fingers running over the hickies you left all over his neck and collarbone with a slight hum. He tied your apron on himself, only boxers and a sleeveless tee on. 

He started to crack eggs into a bowl with one hand. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again — he meant what he said. He would make it up to you, or at least he would try — and he would spend the rest of his life treasuring you and his kid — and maybe another if you let him have his way, he thought, biting back a grin. 

You had turned him down last night when he asked, 

“Don’t you think it’s time we try for another one?” His arms are winding around you, half hard erection already pressing into you, as the two of you stood right outside your daughter’s doorway, watching the angel sleep, “we did do well with the first one,” 

“Toru, we just got back together, we’re not having another kid,” and he’s already pouting, you know without looking at him, “but that would be nice — for our daughter to have a sibling,” and god, it made him to take right there (which he did), but he couldn’t wait until all three of you were ready. Because he wouldn’t dare to miss a second of it — never again. 

And then a knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and his brow furrows. Who could it be this early?

He walks over, checking through the peephole, a grin growing on his lips, oh, perfect timing. Satoru opens the door, leaning against the doorframe, “Yes?” 

Atsuya Kusakabe frowns, jaw nearly dropping as he attempts not to gape at Satoru Gojo standing in his date’s doorway, nearly dropping the bag of medicine and soup he had packed up for you, “Uh, sorry, I was looking for—“ 

“My wife?” He raises a brow, and Kusakabe’s face blanches, as Satoru only smiles with a shrug, “sorry I should say ex-wife, we did get a divorce,” and Kusakabe’s mouth opens and closes, “but you know, she never stopped being mine,” 

Kusakabe clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “where is—“ 

“She’s sleeping still,” Satoru’s lips curl, as he sighs, “she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but I think I made her feel better last night,” and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, movement drawing his attention to your marks littering his body. 

A flush crawls up his neck and ears and he clears his throat, “I-I see,” he thrusts the bag into Satoru’s hands, “could you please give this to her and let her know—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing at his temples, “tell her whatever you want.” 

And he’s gone, door slamming behind him, click of the lock. He holds the bag behind him, only to walk forward to see you peeking from the bedroom, his button up shirt thrown over your head, as you rub your eyes,  “who was it?” 

He only smiles at you, dropping the bag in the trash, “No one important,” and he’s finding his way to your side, arms winding around your waist, “I made us breakfast,” 

“Oh really?” You hum, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that only makes you sigh contently, “what’s the occasion?” 

“Oh, just the first day of the rest of our lives, nothing too big,” he hums, and you laugh, his favorite noise that only makes him fall deeper in love with you, if that was even possible, “have to treat you right don’t I, wifey?” 

“Yes, you do,” and your lips find his again, “my husband,” and the word sticks in his chest, a missing piece that fits right back into place, and fixes a hole that had been aching for far too long, “should we go wake up our daughter?” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Together.” 

✧ a/n: so i didn't think i'd finish this week with being at my sister's and having a con this weekend but i found the time! i hope you enjoyed this one. this is my reality for gojo i'm living in :) fun fact, satomi and satoru both mean enlightenment! :)

✧ taglist: @jasminelee324 , @forest-hashira , @spider-fan72 ,, @rougebrainsludge , @theshylittleelfgirl , @ririchurl , @johannakhalafalla , @hanlay , @fawnlikelore , @vickkysthings , @dead-kats , @hantaslittlearsonist t , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @augustwinesworld , @forest-fruits-jam , @kirashuu , @catsgomurp , @daddytojji , @notgoodforlife , @hyori2 , @shrimpy109 , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @sunamatic , @rougebrainsludge , @redmangotango , , @psychxbby , @nakariabnrb , @mua-for-now @dazailover1900 , @alwaysfreakingout , @yamaguccitadashi , @equikaz , @gojosatorubrainrot

[screampied]

plz write a domestic toji fic

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, house husband toji, reader is pregnant, toji attempting to cook, petnames.

wc. 1.8k

toji quirks an arched brow in frustration. with a concise glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday, it reads three am. sighing, the back of his wrist smears a sheet of sweat off his forehead as he gets a good sniff of the cuisine. like always, he stayed up all night, watching those random cooking mom videos on youtube. trying so hard to mimic their recipes and methods but failing anyway. “tch. fuckin’ shit,” he grumbles under his breath, covered in nothing but flour. the sizzling of the pan was quite loud. the smoke detector went off at least four times. he was wearing another thing you bought him. an apron that had the words of ‘kiss the cook’ imprinted near the front in bedazzled little sparkles. “why does it keep stickin’ to the pan.”

as his annoyance grows, he hears familiar little footsteps approach the linoleum kitchen floor. it’s you, his shoulders lower and his mood softens at the sight of you in comfy silk pajamas and a grouchy expression. “toji? ‘s like three in the morning,” and as you take a whiff of the air, you furrow your own two brows. “are you . . cooking?”

“yeah yeah,” he gruffly grouses, going back to whisking the flour. “go back ‘ta bed, baby. almost done. ‘m jus’ practicing.”

“at three am,” you deadpan, a hand rubbing against your plump growing tummy.

so cute, you were a few weeks pregnant yet everything was moving at such an rapid speed. with the way your body was changing so quick, he could barely keep up. toji hears the sass in your tone as you speak and he knows good and well he should be back in bed with you. you wondered why the left side of the mattress felt empty. you waddle over beside him, hugging him from behind. his bulging muscles rub against you and you let off a playful little whine. “tooooji, you need sleep. come back to bed.”

“princessss,” he plays along with a fake pout, his entire hands covered with piles and piles of doughy flour mix. “but ‘m makin’ breakfast for us two,” and with a brief notion of turning the fire down a bit, he utters last minute. “er— three.” and you smile at him not forgetting to include your unborn child.

toji never cooks, it’s always been just you.

it’s not like he was incapable or anything. he’s always found a liking to watching you cook though.

you always prepared him the best of meals, so good that it had his mouth watering, licking the tips of his tongue in sweet sweet relish.

right before you’d got pregnant, you’d pack him the most divine lunches for work, always with such loving care. you’d never forget to leave him a little adoring note or two, wishing him the best of shifts. so the moment you ended up getting knocked up, he wanted to try.

try to do better,

for you.

sacrificing his sleep wasn’t really an issue—he didn’t mind if it wasn’t for you and his unborn baby. and if toji had to learn how to cook simple meals, he’d do that.. despite the struggle it was.

giggling, you stretch your arms over his torso.

“toji . . making pancakes is easy,” you hum, and his muscles relaxes from your gentle touch.

he’s missed you dearly, even though he was only out of bed for at least a good hour now. hearing him swear vulgar curses underneath his breath at messing up the instructions was quite near adorable. peering at the mess in front of you, you take the cerulean blue mixing bowl from him. “you could’ve woke me up if you needed help, you know.”

“i know,” he grumbles, his voice softening a bit.

you pause—toji’s body language seems a bit different. it shifts. he looks a bit ashamed.

once toji turns off the stove, he deeply sighs. “i just wanted ‘ta learn how to cook for us— you know, like as a family. so when the baby’s here, i’ll uh- be prepared. don’t want ya to be doin’ everything, darlin’. y’er gonna be limited to do lots of stuff soon ‘n i jus’ wanna help out a bit more.”

with a smile, you stroke a thumb against your husband’s chin, right near his little scar. “awww,” and there’s an immediate embarrassed scowl stretching against his thin lips.

toji wanting to try more for you made your heart swarm up with a variety schools of butterflies. it flutters and flaps as he spoke. speaking in a soft tone, a thumb swipes a few remnants of flour near the crevices of his lip. “you’re sweet, toji. but i don’t want you stressing out over cooking. ‘s okay, besidessss we can always do it together.”

“eh,” his eye twitches at your smug growing grin. “that’s… not what i meant, mama.”

“don’t eh me. yeah it is, you want me to teach you how to cook like me,” you simper, planting a kiss against the back of his arm. “you wanna learn how to be a househusband?”

toji groans, turning to face you. verdant eyes leer at you for a long time—but he could never stay too vexed at you, you were so adorable, especially whenever you were this enthusiastic.

“that’s not the term i’d use for myself, but i guess,” and he wipes a few pounds of flour off his apron. “don’t worry ‘bout the mess. i’ll clean that up too.”

“i like this new toji.” you tease, leaning up close to press a wet kiss against his temple.

toji buries his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side and trying to ignore the incoming flush setting against his skin.

oh, you had him weak,

weak everywhere—weak in the knees.

he was feeling himself getting soft as the seconds pass. toji couldn’t lie, he was starting to like this new side of his too. he’d never in a million years admit it though. “baby please,” he grunts, switching the sink on to wash his hands. as the water screams out of the faucet, he lathers everywhere with soap before grumbling. “been watchin’ so many of those damn mom vlogs of cooking. was so annoying, wanted to pull my hair out.”

“you could have just asked me for help, silly,” and your arms securely wrap around his beefy body once more. toji’s frame was a lot more broad and built compared to you. he sucks his teeth, leaning into your touch before staring at the kitchen counter. “okay, good. you have all the ingredients . . eggs, flour, milk, umm sugar..”

and as your words continue and you observe his unkempt handiwork, toji clears his throat. “i gave up once the things kept stickin’ to the skillet.”

you let off a pretty laugh that makes his ears twitch. “welllll that’s probably because you didn’t add enough oil or butter to the pan,” and he watches as you grab a nearby stick of butter. you cut near the end part it with a butter knife before spreading it on the middle of the pan.

toji cutely stays quiet, staring intently and taking in everything you’re doing. he’s attentive, he doesn’t wanna miss anything because he’d soon be doing this for you and his soon-to-be baby.

after a few long seconds, you turn on the stove and it starts to sizzle again. “okay, so you mixed the batter, that’s good. now all you have to do is just pour a good amount into the pan and flip it once it’s a brownish color.”

“ehhhh.”

“toji, you wanted to cook so you’re gonna cook.”

“yes ma’am.” he sighs, his tone playful.

some minutes pass before you both finally finish making a fresh, scrumptious batch of pancakes. with your arms wrapped around him, you showed him all the steps slowly. you were patient with toji, helping him pour the batter and mix it. every time he messes up, you’d kiss the edge of his arm, reminding him that he can just try again. he calms down after a while, and you step away to watch him make a pancake of his own. he flips it over, and he has a sly grin—glancing back toward you, hoping you caught that. you did, giving him an encouraging smile before showering him with praise.

it was almost four am and toji was desperately trying to stay awake—you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open with how he’s swaying a bit. turning off the stove for the nth time, you set the steaming hot spatula aside before looking in toji’s direction. “we can always eat them when we wake up.”

“we?” he grumbles, combing a hand through his messy strands, giving it a solid scratch.

“yes, we,” and you wrap the heated pancakes with plastic wrap, tucking the undersides of the plate with the material before putting it in the microwave to preserve heat. you then grab onto toji’s hand. “we’re going back to bed.”

with a sigh, he knew he wasn’t gonna win this little spat. toji squeezes your hand back, yet before the two of you could go back into bed, he bends down.

raising your brow, toji gets on his knees before bringing a chaste kiss toward your tummy. “hey little one,” he whispers, rubbing a palm gingerly against the front of your stomach. dark, tired eyes meet yours and he bedaubs a thumb near your the print of your navel poking through your his oversized t-shirt. the cold, frigid texture of toji’s fingertips almost tickles. as he softly runs a finger down the center of your growing belly bump, a bit of flour gets against your clothes. “how are my girls? any cramps or pain i should know about?

girls,

the gender was still too early to determine but toji always pondered about how it might be a girl.

“n- no,” you breathe, moving a few raven strands of hair out of his face. everything felt different, it was as if you were walking with volumes of water stored within you. toji’s always been supportive during your pregnancy, he was trying. he stands up again before kissing the crown of your head. “you still think ‘s a girl?”

“kinda, yeah,” he utters, and a strong arm slings around your shoulders.

toji guides you to bed, not minding your cute slow waddle of a walk. “up we go, c’mon,” and he helps you up the steps, lowly chuckling into your neck at your adorable state. toji was always patient, the moment you finally reach the bed, he pulls down the fat cover so you could climb in. “…. thank you baby.”

“for what?” you slump against the cushioned sheets, slipping off your baby blue socks. toji crawls in beside you, leaning in to switch off the lamp. he still had a bit of flour on his face—and he spots you swiping some of it off with your thumb.

toji groans, acting as if the next incoming sentence was gonna kill him.

“for . . teachin’ me how ‘ta be a good househusband,” he pouts, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too toji.”

“i love ya more,” and he lowers his neck to kiss the middle of your stomach. “oh, ‘n papa loves you also, little one. love my girls so much.”

[sturnsdarling]

Birthdays in Boston

A prequel to 'I don''t know how to forget you', and the full story behind the photo of matt and y/n on the fridge

vibe check: WHOLESOME VIBES, bestfriends to FWB to idiots in love Au. smut throughout (its worth being patient for it trust me), shower stuff (handjob/fingering), birthday sex, matt the much, squirting (its her bday she deserves it), daddy kink, fluffy matt and y/n moments, just all round good vibes dude

9k words

A/N: this was so much fun to write I LOVE THEM UGH. I could write a thousand stories about them honestly its just so wholesome. I know it takes a lil while to get smutty but i wanted to build tension and was honestly enjoying writing wholesome vibes lol also its literally my story so if you dont like it, kick rocks. anyways i hope you guys love his as much as i do

love and cigs, merc

"you guys are actually insane, you're not paying for a plane ticket for me to go home for my birthday" you rolled your eyes, legs tucked under you on the boys' sofa.

"why not? we'd come with you obviously" Nick said, his head leaning on your shoulder as he peered up at you.

"because it's so much money, are you crazy?" you replied.

"kid, you're being silly, we're doing it." Chris rolled his eyes, taking his phone out his pocket and pulling up flights.

"no, Chris" you launched yourself forward, attempting to grab his phone out his hand.

Chris stretched backwards, holding his phone out as far away from you as possible whilst trying to finish his purchase.

"Matt, grab her" Chris laughed, holding you back with his free hand.

You're frantically trying to get his phone from Chris' hand when Matt stands up off the sofa, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off Chris with ease. You flailed about in his arms but his grip didn't waver. He chuckled at your attempts to free yourself from his grip.

"Chris, i'm so serious, don't buy those fuckin' tickets" you near enough screamed, still trying to escape Matts arms.

You threw yourself forward, arms stretched out and matt immediately pinned them to your side. Nick was laid down on the sofa, too comfy to move from when he fell off your shoulder, belly laughing at the sight of you frantically trying to overpower Matt.

"Done." Chris said, turning his phone round to show you the confirmation page for the flights.

Your body went limp in Matts arms and he dropped you to your feet.

"you guys are the worst" you sulked, Matt brought a large hand to your hair, soothing down the tangled mess that had occurred from your altercation.

"shut up, kid, you deserve it" Matt said from behind you just before picking you up and spinning you round, "Boston birthdays!" he drew out his last word, singing it as you giggled in his arms.

"Boston birthdays!" Chris and Nick joined in from the sofa, cheesing at the sight of you, your head hung back on its hinge as a giant smile crept its way onto your faux sulk ridden features.

The plane ride back to Boston was a tiring one,

you spent basically the whole journey asleep on Matts shoulder, his blue fresh love hoodie on and a half read book open in your lap. Justin picked you all up from the airport and brought you to the boys house, the car ride through Boston was weirdly nostalgic, you hadn't been home in a couple months and the feeling of being back in your city, with all your favourite people in one place for your 21st birthday was enough to fill you with an overwhelming sense of joy.

"Can you not just feel the 'og-ness', y/n/n" Chris peered round to you in the back seat, the whole car chuckling at Chris' favourite and very made up word.

"Chris, what does that even mean" Nick laughed, looking up from his phone.

"Its just the vibe, man, this kid gets it" Chris said, referring to you, "you get it, right y/n/n?"

You let out a breathy laugh through your nose, grinning at Chris, "yes, Chris, I can feel the og-ness"

"OG-NESS" Chris screamed, hanging his head out the window like a dog.

"kid, get your head back in the car" Justin said from the drivers seat, yanking Chris in by his hoodie.

"you're actually ridiculous" Matt shook his head, stretching his arm out behind you, his hand toying with a stray piece of your soft hair.

"He just feels the vibes, Matt, don't you feel the vibes?" you turned to look at him, your tone somewhat sarcastic as you batted your eyelashes at him.

A smirk filled his features as he peered over at you, eyes flitting down to your mouth and back up to meet your gaze again, "yeah, I feel the vibes"

The tension between you both was thick, and you weren't the only ones who felt it. Justin was watching the entire interaction from the review mirror, a knowing smile forming on his face as you rolled your eyes at Matt, biting your lip slightly and tearing your eyes from his.

After a short drive,

you guys were pulling into the boys house. Justin pulled into the driveway and Mary-lou, Jimmy and your mum were all outside the front of the house, smiles plastered over their faces as you all piled out of the car.

You squealed at the sight of your mother, fumbling out the car and racing over to her. She opened her arms instantly, catching you as your threw yourself into her.

"Hi, flower" she spoke into your hair, your arms crushing around her head as you pulled her into you

"Hi, mum" you replied, "god, I missed you so much" you nestled into the hug.

The boys were getting all of your bags out the car, Chris was already in his mothers arms, wrapped round her like a baby and Nick was racing ahead, running through the front door to find Trevor.

Justin and Matt were by the boot, Matt pulled your suitcase out and put it on the floor just before Justin slammed the boot shut. They picked up the bags and began to walk up to the house.

"so, whats going on with you and y/n" Justin said, slightly under his breath to his little brother.

Matts eyes widened slightly and he shot his gaze over to Justin, "what're you talkin' about?"

"come on, kid, I saw your little interaction in the back seat" Justin scoffed

"I dunno what you're on about" Matt shrugged, trying to fight the smile forming on his face, "there's nothin' going on with us"

Justin rolled his eyes and nodded, "right, sure there isn't"

You were all piled into the living room,

All the parents on one couch, you, Matt and Chris on another and Justin and Nick tucked up with Trevor on the smallest one. You sat like that for hours, talking about everything from childhood memories to LA stories, you told the boys' parents about college, and how you had found the perfect apartment off campus that was only ten minutes from the boys' house. You loved nights like this, where everyone was all in one place, talking about nothing and everything, tucked under Matts arm and your legs spread out over Chris'.

"whats up, fuckers" Nates voice boomed from the entry way.

everyone turned to see him standing in the doorframe, no-one questioning the fact that he had let himself in the house.

"oh shit, sorry y'all, didn't see y'there" Nate said, eyes wide as his hand flew over his mouth, gesturing to the parents all laughing and shaking their head at his entrance.

"NATE!" you screamed, pushing yourself up from your place on the couch and bounding over to him.

"was' up, trouble" Nate said, catching you in a warm hug, pulling you off the ground slightly.

"dude I haven't seen you in months, how have you been?" you pulled away from the hug.

"m'good man, just hangin' out and missin' y'all" Nate nodded, you both walked over to everyone on the sofas.

"whats up, kid" Nate said, laughing as Chris jumped into his arms, both Nick and Matt joining in on the hug, all of them hanging off each other as if it had been years since they'd seen each other.

Chris finally released his grip on Nate, letting him walk over to your guys' parents and give his 'hello' hugs and dapping up Justin. Everyone returned to their prior spots, Matt slumped down onto the couch and Chris sat on the other end, you thumped yourself down on top them, laying your head on Matts lap and your legs over Chris'. Nate lifted your legs up and planted himself between the boys, placing your legs back over him and Chris.

"so, what're we doin' for your birthday, kid" Nate tapped your leg.

"honestly, I don't wanna do anything" you shook your head "I jus' wanna be here with you guys and hang out, just like this" you looked around at the room, filled with everyone you loved, a warm feeling washing over you as Matt looked down at you.

"nah, we have to do something, it's your 21st" Matt said, his brows furrowing as he stared down at you

"I've never really cared about my birthday though, you know that" you replied, slightly awed at how handsome Matt looked from your position on his lap.

"Let me and Mary-lou make a dinner, at least? we can make that pie you love" your mum said from the other sofa.

"ugh, yes, please lets do that, you two in the kitchen is an unstoppable duo and the only thing I want for my birthday" you groaned, craning your head round to look at your mum and Mary-lou

"It's decided then, we'll have a big family dinner" Jimmy said, smacking his hands down on his knees and getting up, "I'll go get the groceries now"

Once Jimmy left to get groceries, everyone disbursed.

Nick, Nate and Chris all went up stairs to play fortnight, and your mum went home after suspiciously hiding in the kitchen to plan what her and Mary-lou were going to make for your meal. Matt and Justin went on a short pokemon-go hunt up the road, saying something about a shiny and sprinting out the house. You had gone out into the garden, telling everyone you wanted to catch the sunset from the hammock that was strung up between two giant trees.

You were laying in the net, swinging slightly as you stared off into the orange sunset, colours of pink and yellow illuminated the whole sky, the view from the top of the hill the boys' house was situated on giving you a near perfect view of the Boston skyline as the sun ducked behind it.

"Hey" Matts voice softly interrupted your solace.

You turned to look at him as he walked over to you, a giant smile engulfing your features at the sight of him.

"hey" you said, staring up at him as he rocked the edge of the hammock, "d'you wanna watch the sunset with me?"

"mhm" Matt nodded, "scooch up, pretty girl" he said, clumsily getting in the hammock and pulling you into him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and rested his chin on your head, rubbing small circles over your skin as you both swayed in the warm Boston breeze.

"thankyou, for doing this" you said, turning up to face him.

"doing what?" he smiled down at you

"bringing me home, I don't realise how much I miss it until I'm back" you said, turning back to face the skyline but quickly returning your gaze to Matts soft features, the orange light making his eyes shine as he smiled down at you.

"of course, anything for our best girl" Matt ruffled your hair in his fingers.

"I know its lame but, I really do feel the og-ness" you chuckled, quoting Chris from earlier.

Matt erupted into laughter, "kids really got a way with words" he said, refereing to Chris.

You laughed in response, your giggles making Matt laugh even more as he watched you throw your head back. Your laughter subsided and you settled into each other, watching the sun go down as you swayed in the tiny hammock. For a short moment, Matt let himself forget that you weren't actually together, eyes flitting over your soft profile as you stared off into the distance, taking in the view and simply relishing in the feeling of being home. You could feel his eyes on you, and turned to face him, blinking at him like a cat.

"what?" you smiled, a red colour dusting your cheeks.

"oh, nothin' you're jus-" Matt cut himself off, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "you're jus' really pretty"

You rolled your eyes and smiled, swatting his chest slightly. He caught your hand, bringing it to his face and planting a kiss on your palm. He placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch as you shifted closer to him. He let his eyes wander to your glossy lips, and you pulled at him slightly, edging his face closer to yours. Just as your lips brushed over each others, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

"Matt, y/n/n, dinners ready" Justin said from the back door.

You both quickly drew away from each other, Matt turned to look over his shoulder at Justin and you perched up with a hand on his chest. You looked at each other and not so gracefully got out of the hammock, you walking a little ahead of Matt and brushing past Justin with a smile. Matt was just a bit behind you, eyes fixated on your figure as you sauntered through the house.

"nothin' going on my ass" Justin muttered, grabbing Matt by the shoulder as he walked past him.

Matt just laughed and shook his head, pressing his tongue into the side of his cheek and turning to look at his brother sheepishly.

"don't worry, kid, your guys' little secret is safe w'me" Justin whispered just before walking off into the kitchen.

The next morning,

everyone was at the boys' house, you ended up staying the night in Nicks room after hours of chatting about anything and everything. Your mum had showed up early hours of that morning, wanting to be there when you woke up. Everyone had crept into Nicks bedroom, all holding balloons and gifts for you as they quietly shuffled and squished up at the end of his bed. You were dead asleep, hugging Nicks pillow as you felt the bed shift slightly. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with everyone; your mum, Mary-lou, Jimmy, the boys and Justin all cheesing at you from the end of the bed

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY" they all shouted in unison, Chris popped a confetti popper and Matt blew air into his party blower.

You laughed, covering your face with your hands as Nick clicked the film camera, the flash of light hurting your still sleepy eyes.

Your mum came forward, leaning on the bed and giving you a tight hug, "happy birthday, my sweet"

"thanks mum" you smiled into the hug.

Your mum pulled away and planted a kiss on your forehead. Everyone came forward one by one, giving you loving hugs and soft happy birthdays. The boys were last, and in perfect unison, they all jumped on top of you.

"BIRTHDAY BUNDLE" Nick screamed as a belly laugh erupted from your throat.

They all piled on top of you, squishing you beneath their weight as they laughed like little kids. You were giggling uncontrollably, nearly winded from their weight but consumed by laughter.

"I remember birthday bundles, you guys used to do that every year when you were little" Mary-lou said, chuckling to herself at the sight of her kids piled on top of you.

"Its a tradition" Chris said from beneath Matt, shifting where he was slightly to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"you guys are insane" you chuckled as the boys got off you one by one, "thank you" you smiled, looking at the room full of everyone you loved and feeling utterly grateful for their existence.

"okay, get up and shower, we're going shopping" Nick said, dragging you out his bed.

"shopping? why?" you questioned, stretching the tiredness out of your bones

"because, dumbass, its your birthday" he said, stating the obvious

you let out a breathy laugh through your nose and shook your head, "okay" you said as everyone piled out the room.

The shower water ran down your back,

the warmth soothing your skin as you tipped your head back, letting the water run over your face and down through your hair. There was a sudden cold waft of air in the steamy room and the sensation pulled you from your blissful moment. You ran your hands over your face, getting the water out of your eyes as you fluttered them open. You were met with a grinning, naked Matt standing in front of you, before you could open your mouth to be shocked, his hand was wrapped around your mouth, his finger coming to his mouth to shush you.

"shhh, pretty girl, s'only me" he said, moving his hand from your mouth and wrapping it round the side of your jaw.

"Matt? what're yo-" your questioning was cut off by him pulling your lips to his, he kissed you feverishly, his hand snaking round to the base of your spine to pull your wet body into him.

Your hands found his face immediately, returning the kiss as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, the warmth a welcomed sensation as your tongue pressed against his.

Matt broke the kiss, leaving you aching for more as he turned you both round so he was under the warm water for a moment.

"what're you doing in here? what if someone catches us?" You whispered, hands raking down his bare chest.

"no ones gonna catch us, sweetheart, everyone's downstairs" he said, pressing you into the cold tiles and bringing your mouth to his again.

You whimpered into the kiss, the feeling of his warm, completely bare and wet skin pressed against yours quickly igniting a desperate ache in you.

"mphm" Matt grunted as you moved your hand down to palm at his painfully hard cock, "not being able to kiss you for twenty four hours has been agony" he broke the kiss before quickly crashing his lips back into yours.

You chuckled at Matts desperation as his kiss became increasingly needy at the sensation of you pumping your hand up and down his length. He was near enough fucking into your fist, thumbs pressed hard into your cheeks as his tongue sloppily moved against yours.

The heat from the water mixed with your growing arousal made you both feel slightly lightheaded. Matt trailed a hand down your torso, palming softly over your tit before snaking his hand down between your legs. He found your puffy clit and rubbed slow, soft circles over it, just before gliding his ring finger through your folds, your sticky wetness covering his finger as he moved back up your pussy, using your juices as lubricant over your clit.

You bit down on Matts lip with a whimper, your grip tightening around his cock as you involuntarily bucked your hips into Matts fingers. Matt grunted into your mouth, the sting of his lip coupled with your tight grip around his length only serving to make him more desperate. He slid his long fingers through your folds once more, slipping two digits inside you with ease as you clenched around him,, your head rolling back into the tile as he curled his fingers inside of you.

Matt broke the kiss to trail wet, hot kissed down your neck, still fucking into your closed fist, completely reeling at the sensation of your hand around him.

Matt groaned as you began to turn your wrist, rubbing your thumb up and over his leaking tip, "fuck, princess, you're gonna make me cum if you keep doin' that" he breathed onto your wet skin.

"cum all over my hand, please, Matt" you moaned, the steady pace of his fingers making your back arch off the cold tile behind you.

Matt moaned at your words, "you first, birthday girl" he said as he pulled his fingers from you, using his soaked fingers to rub blissful circles over your throbbing clit.

You couldn't help the guttural moan that left your throat and Matt chuckled, bringing the hand on your cheek to your mouth, "shh, pretty girl, you don't want them to hear us, do you?" he smiled, his pace on your clit never wavering.

You shook your head, pleading eyes pouring into Matts as he worked your clit, ducking his head back down to nip and suck on your neck, soothing every sting of his teeth with the warm flat of his tongue. You pumped his dick impossibly fast as you chased your own orgasm, rolling your hips into Matts hand as your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. Only Matt would be able to make you feel this good with such a simple act.

You whimpered into his palm, the skin of his hand muffling your cries as you came, your whole body shaking as you tried to keep yourself upright. The sight of you cumming all over his hand sent Matt over the edge and soon enough, his hips were stuttering against your hand. With his eyes clenched shut and his forehead against your shoulder, Matt released sticky, warm cum all over your fist. You continued to work his length as he slowed his pace on your clit, movements sloppy from his orgasm and the sensation of you using his cum as lube to pump him.

Matts whole body shook against yours as he let out a soft chuckle into your skin, watching you in complete awe as you brought your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean of his cum.

"you're insane" Matt smiled, shaking his head before kissing you feverishly.

You kissed him back before pulling away, shifting slightly to stand under the warm water once more. You leant down to get the shampoo from the side, squeezing it into your hand and rubbing it through your hair.

"here, birthday girl, lemme do it for you" Matt said, replacing your hands with his as he worked the foam through your hair.

Your eyes closed at the massaging touch of Matts hands against your scalp, your head relaxing into his touch as you let out low satisfied hums. Matt did your whole shower routine for you, conditioning your hair, exfoliating your skin with the rough side of the sponge before going back over the way he came with the soft side. He treated you like you were royalty and he was your servant, peppering tender kisses all over your wet skin as he bathed you, whispering sweet praises in your ears about how beautiful you looked or how soft your skin was.

Once you were clean, he stepped out the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist before holding a hand out to you and helping you step out onto the cold tile floor. He reached for the fluffy white towel and wrapped it round you, bringing you into a tight bear hug.

"happy birthday, pretty girl" he said, placing a loving kiss into the top of your wet hair.

"Thankyou, Matty" you cheesed up and him and he cringed at the old nickname.

"don't make that face! I used to call you 'Matty' all the time when we were little" you said, looking up at him with your chin rested on his chest.

"yeah, when we were little it was cute, now it just makes me feel weird" He chuckled scrunching his face up at you.

"well, I like it, so" you drew out your 'o', smiling cheekily up at Matt.

"you can have twenty four hours of calling me Matty, only because it's your birthday, and then you can go back to calling me daddy" Matt smirked, raising his brows and brushing his lips over yours.

"i've literally never called you daddy in the history of ever" you smiled, laughing into his parted lips.

"maybe you should start" he said in a low, seductive tone, pressing a kiss on your lips.

"In your dreams, Matty" you said, kissing him back with a smile etched on your lips.

The rest of your day was spent shopping with Nick,

It was the perfect day. You and Nick went to all your favourite thrift spots in Boston, spending the whole day talking about how ‘they just don’t do it like this in LA’ and complaining about west coast prices. Nick took you to your favourite lunch restaurant, a hidden gem in your home down and you guys spent hours chatting about nothing and everything. Even though you begged him not to, he told the staff that it was your birthday and your pancakes came out with sparklers and a song. You, obviously, wanted the ground to swallow you whole as the entire restaurant sung happy birthday to you, but the look on Nicks face from behind his phone made all the embarrassment worth it.

You and Matt spent the whole day texting, as usual, and he was nothing other than loving and attentive. Every thrift find you weren’t sure of he was there to give you his opinions, every selfie you and Nick took was sent straight to him along with photos of the city that really ‘captured the og-ness’.

Little did you know, the whole time you were out shopping and sending silly photos to Matt, he was helping set up your surprise back at the boys’ house.

Everyone had come over to help out; Mary-Lou and your mum were a dream team in the kitchen, making more food than anyone would ever need as the boys put up all the decorations in the back garden. There were party hats, streamers, balloons and a giant vintage style cake with your name sprawled across it in big pink letters.

Just before the sun was starting to set, you and Nick decided to make your way home. Nick sneakily messaged the family group chat and let everyone know you were both en route, just in case they needed to add any finishing touches before you arrived.

When the uber pulled up, you were completely none the wiser.

You and Nick waded into the house, both excited to show everyone what you had got but were met with an empty home.

“where is everyone?” you said, brows furrowed as you dropped your bags to the floor

Nick pretended to be as confused as you were, hoping you couldn’t hear the music that was blaring from the back garden.

“that’s so weird” Nick said in faux confusion, “maybe they’re outside?” he said, pointing to the back door.

“maybe” you said, nodding as you began to walk towards the garden, the music slowly coming into your senses as the confusion you felt grew.

Nick pulled out his phone, walking slowly behind you as you pushed down on the back door handle, stepping out into the garden, eyes on the floor.

“SURPRISE” everyone yelled in unison, party poppers going off as the sound of party horns rattled through your skull.

Your head shot up, and you were met with the boys' entire family and your mum, all clad in party hats and standing in front of a massive banner hanging from tree to tree with "happy birthday" sprawled across it.

An intense feeling of pure joy engulfed your body. A giant smile spread across your face as tears welled in your eyes. The entire garden was filled with balloons, streamers hung from the trees and an entire table filled with food. Your 'feel good' spotify playlist was blasting from a speaker that Justin had set up, 'Home' by Good Neighbours making the grass rumble with the bass as everyone came running up to you, all engulfing you in a giant hug, leaving you squished in the middle of them.

The air was filled with laughter, everyone jumping and screaming happy birthday over and over again, spinning and pulling you back and forth into tight, loving hugs. You couldn't help but well up, feeling completely overwhelmed by all the love you felt. You never cared about your birthday, but in this moment, you knew that you had an army of people who did, who cared about your birthday, who cared about you, more than anything.

The laughter subsided and your playlist began to rifle through songs, all your favourites playing and filling the garden with an energy that could only be described as you.

"how did you guys have time to do all of this?" you cheesed, looking around the garden and wiping the small tears from your eyes.

"It was the plan all along" Matt shrugged, his eyes trained on your glowing features.

"why do you think I kept you out the house all day?" Nick asked, putting his phone in his pocket and looping his arm round your shoulder.

"this is actually insane" you shook your head in disbelief, "is this my playlist?" you said, clocking the familiar music.

"that was my idea" Chris said, grinning at you like a proud kid.

You couldn't stop smiling, you took a moment to look around at everyone, taking in the fact that you were home, and you were spending your birthday with everyone you loved.

"you guys are incredible" you said, locking eyes with Matt, who was already looking at you.

"you deserve the world, flower" you mum came up to you, wrapping a warm arm around your waist as you pulled her into you close.

You spent the rest of the evening eating, laughing and having the best time.

Everyone was dancing about, the boys were making up silly routines that made your stomach ache with laughter as you keeled over on the grass, a drink in your hand and a plate of birthday cake on the floor beside you.

Matt came forward, slightly out of breath from the intense routine that Chris had forced him to join in on and held out a hand to you, pulling you up from the ground with a smile. Within seconds, his shoulder was at your stomach and you were hanging upside down over his back. He leapt out into a full sprint around the garden, your giggles filling the air and only serving to make him run faster. He was chanting happy birthday over and over again, singing the tune with a grin spread across his face. When he reached his brothers once more, he placed you down onto the grass, catching you by the waist as you nearly stacked it from lightheadedness.

You couldn't stop your laughter, it being echoed by everyone around you.

"guys, smile!" Nick said, a few feet away from you and Matt with his camera to his eye.

You both turned to face him, Matt shifted to stand behind you slightly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing his face close to yours with bared teeth, acting as if he was going to bite your ear with a wide smile. Your hands found Matts arms, gripping onto him as you squeezed your eyes shut, baring your teeth in a cheesy grin. The camera shutter went off and Nick giggled at the two of you, running off to take more photos of everyone.

Your hands didn't leave Matt, you caressed him gently as he dropped his smile and pressed a long kiss into your hair. You pushed into his touch, finally dropping your hands from his arms and turning to face him.

"thank you, for all of this" You said, absentmindedly taking Matts hand in yours loosely.

"It wasn't all me" he smiled, linking his fingers with yours.

"no I know, but, I know it was your idea" Your eyes poured into his as he fought his smile, you were right.

"it might have been" Matt gazed down at you, fighting every inclination to kiss you.

"you're ridiculous, you know that?" You shook your head slightly, gripping his hand tighter.

A smirk formed on Matts face, "you love it" his tone shifted slightly, carrying an air of seduction.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, glancing away from Matt and locking eyes with Justin, who was grinning behind his cup and watching the two of you act as if you were the only people in the world. He shot you a knowing wink and you smiled at him, your attention finding the grass in slight embarrassment.

Once the sun had set, you all settled in the garden, curled up on the furniture

"happy birthday, my sweet" your mum pulled you into a tight hug.

"thanks mum, i'll be home after tonight, I want to spend some proper time with you before we go back to LA" you said into her hair, just before you broke the hug.

"I'd love that" she smiled, her eyes glistening just as yours do when you smile.

Once your mum had left, Mary-lou and Jimmy went to bed, and it was just you and the boys, all sitting round the fireplace jimmy had built when you guys were little.

"Nate, are you staying here tonight?" you asked from your position on the bench, legs draped over Nicks.

"yeah I think so, gonna spoon with my boyfriend" Nate said, wrapping his arm around Chris shoulder and kissing his cheek.

"cant wait" Chris giggled.

Nate and Chris went up stairs first, saying something about 'burring kids on fort'.

It was just you Nick and Matt, you spent a while talking about the day and giggling about how oblivious you were. Matt couldn't stop staring at you, the way your features were illuminated by the flames captivating him completely. A small smile crept across Nicks face when he noticed his brothers inability to look away from you.

"I'm gonna go zone out and edit the pictures from today" Nick pulled your legs from across his, ruffling your hair as he stood up, "happy birthday, queen" He grinned.

You and Matt were finally alone, and he immediately came to join you on the small sofa you were curled up on.

He pulled your legs over his, rubbing small circles across your soft skin. You shut your eyes and let your head fall back onto the arm rest, reeling in his touch after what felt like forever.

"I um, I got you something" Matt said, breaking the comfortable silence.

You pulled your head up to look at him, "you got me something?" You mirrored his words.

Matt nodded with his lip tucked between his teeth, shifting slightly to reach into his pocket. He pulled out a small box with a little blue bow on it, handing it to you with nervous hands.

You took the box from him, admiring the effort he went to with a smile and a kind tut. Before you even opened it, you were grinning from ear to ear.

"you didn't have to do this" You smiled at him, your heart pounding in your chest at the sentiment of him giving you a gift, in secret

"just shut up and open it" Matt rolled his eyes, tapping your leg.

"Okay, okay" you shuffled to sit up, undoing the bow and handing him the ribbon.

You opened the box with a creak, your mouth falling agape slightly at the sight of a small gold heart locket staring back at you. It was engraved with swirls in a shape that followed the curves of the gold. A small blue gemstone sitting happily in the centre. You couldn't help but gasp slightly, it was beautiful.

"Matt..." you said softly, eyes finding his as he grinned at you.

"open it" He cocked his head slightly.

You furrowed your brows lovingly, glancing back down to the locket before carefully opening it. Inside, was a tiny photo of you and Matt when you were kids. Little Matt was in a backwards hat, holding your face with his tiny hand, innocently kissing your cheek as you smiled at the camera.

You were in awe, it was perfect. tears welled in your eyes as you shut the box, throwing yourself forward and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Matt giggled, hugging you back and nestling his head into your neck.

"do you like it?" He said, tucked into your hair.

"Matt..." You pulled away, "it's perfect, its beautiful, its-" you sighed, shaking your head and looking down at the box in your palm, "thank you" you said, a warm smile on your face as your eyes poured into his, flitting back and forth and watching as the fire flickered against his blue iris'

"you're welcome, angel" Matts hand found your cheek, caressing it slightly with his thumb as he pulled you into a tender, loving kiss.

Your lips slotted around his perfectly, you closed your eyes and leant into the kiss, deepening it with the brush of your tongue against Matts lip, asking for invitation.

Mat chuckled into your mouth, "easy, birthday girl, we're still in my garden remember?" He smiled, peppering a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away completely.

You and Matt spent the whole night talking,

wrapped up in each other and the warm embrace of the fire. The stars hung above your heads, illuminating your conversation as you laughed and joked, talking about everything from childhood memories to your favourite 'date nights'. On nights like this, it was easy to forget that you weren't together. Everything with Matt was so easy, you knew him better than you knew yourself and vice versa. You just worked, and, you hadn't realised in that moment, and wouldn't for a while but, you were falling in love with him.

When the fire finally died, you both retreated inside,

walking hand in hand through the house, trying to be as quiet as possible in attempts to not wake anyone up.

You crept up the stairs, following Matt with your hand loosely locked in his. You reached his bedroom door and paused just outside, Matt turned to face you, his hands finding your waist as yours found his shoulders.

"you know, I have another present for you" He whispered, moving his lips impossibly close to yours.

"really?" you whispered into his nearly open mouth.

"mhm" Matt nodded, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue instantly pressing against yours.

You kissed him back with matching desperation, wrapping your arms round his shoulders as he opened the door with one hand, leading you both inside to his dimly lit childhood bedroom.

Neither of you broke the kiss, only deepened it once you were safely hidden in the confides of his room. Matts fingers looped around the hem of your top, silently asking for permission to take it off as you broke the kiss. He slipped your top over your head and pulled his own off before quickly capturing your lips in a wet kiss once more. You whined at the sensation of his warm skin pressed against yours, falling against the bed as you straddled him.

You ground your hips against him as you bit down on his lip, growing more and more desperate for him as minutes passed. Matt groaned at the feeling on your warm, clothed pussy rubbing against his stiffening cock. He pushed you up, flipping you both over so your back was on the soft fabric of his duvet. You hit the bed with a giggle into your kiss, one Matt returned as he pulled away from your lips, trailing warm kisses across your skin, down your torso and to the hem of your jeans. Your hands found his hair, back arching into his touch as his grip on your ribs became bruising.

Matt sucked and kissed at the skin on your stomach, nipping at the flesh as he edged his hands down your torso and to the button of your jeans. He expertly pulled them open, breaking his embrace with your skin to tell you to lift your hips up. You complied, allowing him to pull your jeans down at an agonisingly slow pace. As he did, he kissed all the way down the inside of your legs, pressing his warm tongue against your skin. An uncontrollable whimper left your throat, a tingling warmth vibrating across your body at the feeling of Matts slow kisses.

You wear nearly bare for him, sprawled out on his bed, clad in a baby pink matching set he had gotten you a couple weeks earlier. Matt groaned at the sight of you, stretching like a cat and putting yourself on full display for him.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful" Matt shook his head, unable to control his wondering hands as one gripped your thigh, and the other found the soft flesh of your tit.

You smiled in response, a smile that quickly left your face as Matt leant down, capturing the soft skin of your stomach against his tongue once more. He was so gentle, taking his time as he worked his way down to wear you needed him the most. Your hands were tangled in his messy hair, pushing him against you with desperation as he kissed all round the hem of your panties, purposefully missing your throbbing clit with every wet, warm kiss.

His thumb came to your core, and your back arched instantly at the pressure of his digit against your sopping hole. He pushed the fabric against your pussy, making your juices seep through the lace. A chuckle left his lips at the sight, pride swelling in his chest over how wet you were for him.

"Matt, please" You whined, bucking your hips into his thumb, the tension making you feel lightheaded as you looked down at him with hooded eyes.

"you want it, angel?" Matt looked up at you, pressing his thumb harder against your clit as he began to rub slow circles against the lace.

You nodded with a whimper, your lip tucked between your teeth as you played with his soft, brown locks.

"okay, pretty girl" He smiled, letting you get away with the lack of verbal agreeance only because it was your birthday.

With that, he wrapped his mouth around your core. His tongue pressing against the soaking wet fabric as he slowly and passionately kissed your pussy. Your mouth opened, a moan nearly escaping your lips as you pressed a firm palm over your face, silencing any noises that tried to escape.

Matt pulled your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your warm pussy just before his mouth was back on you, lapping at your hole as it clenched around nothing. His pace was slow, but the pressure he was applying sent tingles all through your body.

He was relentless, not giving you a moment before he teased your hole with his middle finger, slipping it in with ease. Your thighs tensed around his head, locking him in. Matt didn't mind, in fact, he loved it. He groaned at the taste of you, watching as your back arched off the bed, pushing your throbbing pussy further into his mouth. He slipped a second finger into your clenching hole and began to suck gently on your clit, pumping his fingers at a faster pace than his mouth was working.

The sensation was euphoric, your whole body felt as if it was on fire as your vision began to blur. Matt curled his fingers inside of you, lapping and sucking at your clit like a man starved, relishing in the sight of you convulsing above him. You tensed and writhed, your toes curling as you involuntarily bucked your hips into his mouth. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, the sound of them pumping in and out of your soaked and sticky walls filling the air.

"you taste so good, angel" Matt spoke into your pussy before latching his lips around your clit once more, his tongue pressed flat against it as he worked your sopping hole.

All you could do was whimper in response, any sense of coherence leaving your brain as Matt brought you closer to the edge. The vibration of his soft moans against your pussy had you reeling, and with a knuckle deep curl of his fingers, your vision was white, your thighs tight around his head as a wave of blissful euphoria washed over you. You came all over Matts mouth, releasing your juices onto his fingers. He swiped his tongue through your folds, collecting your cum on his tongue with a groan as you shook above him, your grip on his hair relentless as you rode out your high on his face.

Matt kept his pace, determined to make you cum again, totally engrossed in the taste of you on his tongue. Your whole body began to tense, legs shaking as if they had their own mind as Matt pumped into you faster, sucking on your clit with feverish pressure. He near enough growled as he felt you clenching around him once more.

"Matt, Matt I think I'm gonna-" You were cut off by a sudden, guttural moan attempting to leave your throat. You tried your best to silence yourself, but the sensation that was ripping through your body was more than distracting.

You released a flood of juices all over Matts face, juices he encouraged with curling fingers and a lapping tongue. He couldn't help but smile as you squirted all over his face, shaking and convulsing on his mouth as he slowed his pace on your pussy.

you went completely limp, shivers creeping up your spine as Matt pulled his mouth from you, the cold air hitting your warm pussy once more.

"happy birthday, my pretty, pretty girl" Matt whispered, crawling up your body to capture your open mouth in a wet kiss.

The taste of yourself on his tongue sent you into a frenzy, and as if on instinct, you locked your legs around his waist, hands immediately going to the buckle of his belt, pulling his jeans open with utter desperation as you whimpered into his mouth.

Matts cock was painfully hard as you took him in your palm, a small whine leaving his lips as you pumped him, attempting to line him up with your gaping, soaked hole as he bucked into your hand. You were locked in between his arms, his body weight hovering just above you as you pressed his leaking tip between your folds, pushing it up and over your clit with needy whines.

Matt chuckled into the kiss, and waited until you brought his tip down to your hole before bucking his hips forward, sliding his length inside you with ease. You both moaned at the sensation, your head flying back to the pillow, breaking the kiss. Matt stared down at you in awe, the sight of your fucked out face making him lose all control. He bottomed out without warning, pressing his hips hard against yours.

"fuck, Matt" you whimpered into his ear, locking him into you with tight arms around his neck.

Matt groaned, pulling out of you before pushing into you once more, feeling lightheaded from the sensation of being nestled deep into your perfect, warm pussy and dipping his head down to the cook of your neck

The sting of him stretching you out was blissful, you nipped at his earlobe, "you stretch me out so fuckin' good, daddy" you whispered.

Matts attention was immediately back on you, eyes wide as he stilled inside you. You giggled slightly, looking at him with teasing eyes as he attempted to form a thought.

"say it again." he said, his tone stern but holding the air of a whimper

"make me cum all over your dick for my birthday, daddy" you said, biting your lip and giggling once more.

Matt growled, dipping his head down to kiss you with feverish passion as he began to rut into you, hard and fast. You moaned into his mouth, legs tight around his hips as he fucked you at a relentless pace. One hand was pressing bruises into your waist, holding you still as the other held your jaw, leading the kiss with gentle dominance as your walls clenched around him, milking him.

His dick pressed against your g-spot over and over again, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrust into you, the whole bed shifting under you both. His grip on your jaw was soft, but the way he was kissing you was completely desperate, heavy breathes leaving his mouth every time he caught a sliver of air. Matt was completely lost in you, fucking you with passion you'd never felt before. The sensation of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls was mind boggling, and the pressure of his warm skin against yours had you reeling.

Matts hand moved from your waist down to your clit, and he began to work fast circles over the throbbing bud, looking down and watching as your pussy sucked him in.

"oh my god" you whimpered, eyes clenching shut.

"cum for me, princess, cum all over my dick, please" Matt was begging, actually begging to make you cum again.

He watched as all sense left your brain, your orgasm fast approaching as he kept his pace, fucking you with relentless desperation and rubbing fast circles against your clit, using your juices as lubrication for his movements.

"fuck, you're so beautiful like this, so fuckin' beautiful, taking me so well, such a pretty girl" Matts rambles were coming out in moans, watching as you approached your climax.

His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you as you came all over his dick. The tight clench of your pussy around him sent him spiralling, and with a stutter of his hips and a hard, whimpering thrust, Matt came inside you, matching your breathy moans as his forehead rested against yours.

Matt stilled inside you completely, breathing heavily above you with closed eyes. You giggled, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips and he chuckled in response.

"best birthday sex, ever" you whispered with a smile.

Matt chuckled once more, opening his eyes to look at you cheesing up at him. He shook his head with a smirk and kissed you as he pulled out, his spent cock limp against his leg. He fell down onto you instantly, and your hands found his hair.

"we should do that every year" Matt muttered into your skin, a wave of tiredness washing over him as your gentle caresses on his head soothed his racing heart.

You didn't reply, only smiled to yourself at the sentiment, not quite realising the weight of Matts request due to your fucked out senses.

Within minutes, you and Matt were asleep, tangled up in one another's warm, naked bodies.

The next morning,

you and the boys were sitting around the breakfast table, eating waffles and drinking fresh orange juice. No one had noticed you sneak out of Matt's room in the early hours of that morning, and luckily when you snuck into nicks room to pretend to be asleep, he was dead asleep.

"yesterday was so fun, guys, I love it when we're all together" Chris said, already getting sentimental at ten in the morning.

"it was great, I really felt the OG-ness" You said, cocking a brow at Chris. Nick and Matt both groaned at you encouraging Chris' antics.

"YES!" Chris shouted, flinging his bacon out his hand, "the OG-ness, bro, I'm tellin' you, it's a thing" he continued, patting Nate on the chest.

Nate chuckled, "okay, kid"

Everyone laughed at Chris' outburst, the table filled with rolling eyes and warm hearts, because deep down, you all knew he was right. A comfortable silence filled the kitchen as you all continued to eat your breakfast, simply enjoying each others company.

"so" Nick said, taking a bite of bacon, "what did you guys get up to after we all went to sleep?" he asked, innocently.

You and Matt shared a quick look, both fighting the smiles forming on your face. You shuffled in your seat and shook your head slightly, "nothin' really, we just stayed up all night talking".

"yeah, just sat down here and hung out, pretty much" Matt added, a small smirk crawling its way across his face.

You glanced at him, trying to look as normal as possible. Nick watched the entire interaction with a look of bafflement on his face, eyes flitting between the both of you shifting in your skin on either side of the table.

"okay..." he drew out his word, taking a bite of his food with suspicion etched across his features.

The nearly awkward tension was cut off by Justin coming into the kitchen, he walked behind you and placed a firm hand on your shoulder with a squeeze, "how was the rest of your birthday evening, y/n/n" he asked, his accusatory tone going over everyones heads.

"it was good, thanks J" you looked up at him from your perched position.

"Good" he nodded with a smirk, before walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug.

Nick watched with furrowed brows, his eyes trained on you as you blushed. The puzzle pieces began to slot together in his mind, you looked at him, your face completely straight but somehow confirming his suspicions.

"OH MY GOD" Nick screamed, everyone in the room being totally startled by his volume.

"what Nick? what?" Chris jumped out his skin, looking around the kitchen for an axe murderer.

Nick locked eyes with you once more and your eyes widened slightly, unbeknownst to you. Matts focus was trained on you, and Nick looked to Matt, who suddenly looked very tense.

"no, nothing, nothing, I thought um- I thought I saw a bug" Nick stuttered his way through his lie.

A smile formed on your lips, as you returned your attention to your food. Matts shoulders relaxed, and he glanced at Nick, shooting him a grateful look. Nick was onto you both, but you knew your secret was safe with him, and realistically, he'd probably forget about it in a week. Of course he didn't, he kept it to himself for months, until the moment came where he needed to be a big brother and save the day, but thats a story for another time.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[romanticintheory]

thinking about fellow soldier!reader coming back to ghost after having been mistaken for kia

gn!reader x simon "ghost" riley

-maybe he's back in your shared apartment, holding the last photo he took with you.

-it was taken the day of your birthday, with your arms around simon's waist and a gleeful smile permanently etched on your face.

-you were looking directly at the camera with your eyes crinkled at the corners. simon, however, was looking at you and only you with an expression only a lovestruck fool could manage.

-he had long since stopped crying about what he believed was your death. when price came to him with a somber expression and the news that you were on the wrong end of an explosion, the only thing he could do was cry or be angry.

-now, he felt nothing.

-you could imagine his surprise when he hears the front door open. did he forget to lock it? was someone breaking in? he didn't care enough to prepare himself for a potential attack.

-but, no, you walked in with an ungodly amount of bandaged wounds and a tired look on your face.

-you expected him to stand from his place on the sofa to meet you, but he didn't. he thought he was imagining things, again, so he said nothing.

-"simon," you said softly, not bothering to take off your shoes and throwing you things onto the ground next to you.

-still, he said nothing.

-"i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. price said he tried to contact you but that you never answered," you continued. nobody knew where you and ghost lived, and simon's grief took the form of self-isolation.

-he still didn't answer you at this point, and it was becoming unsettling.

-"simon, can you hear me?"

-"you're not real," was all he could muster. he didn't have the heart to tell "fake" you to go away or beg himself to wake up from his supposed dream. "i can't do this again. you're not real."

-you realized just how hard your false death had hit him.

-"i'm real. i promise. i was able to take cover last second and-"

-"no. you're dead with not even a body to recover because i wasn't there to protect you. god, i..." the words got stuck in his throat as he leaned forward on the sofa, holding his head in his hands and near trembling.

-you dropped to your knees in front of him like a follower worshipping their god. taking his hands, you held them tight as you could in a silent attempt at convincing him you were alive.

-there was a moment of silence between the two of you before he drew his hands away from yours. it made your heart hurt.

-"simon..." you were grasping at straws, now, trying to figure out how to convince him of what was true. maybe there was something in your luggage that might help.

-as soon as you turned your body to your bags by the front door, you were pulled right back in by a pair of strong arms.

-he was hugging you like the moment he let go, you'd disappear into thin air (and, in a way, he believed it to be a possibility). after being pulled from your shock, you immediately brought your own arms to reciprocate the embrace.

-"(y/n)," he said, trying to keep his voice stable. there was still a part of him that couldn't believe he had you with him. if he weren't so thankful, he'd be lecturing you about acting wreckless on missions and convincing you to quit your job so nothing like this happened again.

-but, for now, he was content like this.

[solaireverie]

op81 | best he'll ever write

summary: [ author!oscar piastri x f!driver!reader — social media au ] being the partner and muse of a celebrated author means that fans start connecting the dots sooner rather than later

faceclaim: gracie abrams

author’s note: i'm secretly a ya romcom book girlie and i feel like that shows SO MUCH in this fic 🙈 delusional for life!

[ masterlist / guidelines / lola's masterlist / series masterlist ]

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, liakblock and 534,230 others

geotag: melbourne, australia

yourusername short break down under 🐨

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user great race at the australian gp y/n!

↪ user first points of the season let's goooo

↪ yourusername and hopefully many more to come 🙌

logansargeant STRAYAAA 🦘🇦🇺🦘🇦🇺

↪ yourusername VEGEMITE ON TOAST 🤤

↪ user sometimes i forget that logan and y/n are both gen z 😂

user the puppy is so adorable 🥺

↪ user i wonder whose it is 👀 y/n's said that her schedule doesn't allow for pets

oscarpiastri not my birthday cake...

↪ yourusername sorry not sorry 😉

↪ user who the hell is oscar piastri and why is y/n replying to his comment 😭

↪ user don't you talk about my favourite best-selling author like that 🤺

oscarpiastri has added to their story

seen by yourusername, logansargeant, jennyhan and 124,203 others

you replied to oscarpiastri's story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 3,393,210 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername can't believe that little kid is now a 3-time nyt best-selling author 🥹 so proud of you oscarpiastri 💗 i haven't been able to put eighty-one seconds down 📖 available in bookstores near you!

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user i love how y/n always supports and promotes oscar's books 🥺

↪ user they're so adorable together my heart can't take it

oscarpiastri Thanks for the encouragement. Couldn't have done it without you 👍

↪ yourusername damn right you couldn't have 😤

user okay but who took the photo of y/n 👀

↪ user i'm betting it was oscar 😜

↪ user hello what 😳😳😳

↪ user oh my sweet summer child...

liked by yourusername, hachetteaus, johngreenwritesbooks and 293,192 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Thank you to everyone who's been on this journey with me. Eighty-One Seconds is finally yours and we can't be more happy to share it with you. As many of you have guessed, it is my homage to Y/N and all the time we have spent together. My wife, my love, my heart. I'm grateful that you're in my life. Forgive me for re-using my words, but here's to eighty-one more years together.

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user hold on a damn second 🤚 his WIFE??? when was this a thing 🧐

↪ yourusername 🤭

↪ user give us answers please 🙏 i haven't had peace since oscar posted this

yourusername i love you too, oscar jack piastri 🤍

↪ user oh he literally named his mc after himself 😭

↪ user GOODBYE??? JACK AS IN HIS MIDDLE NAME??? oh my god they really weren't subtle

williamsracing signed copy when 😏

↪ hachetteaus already on its way 🫡

user honestly i'm surprised they managed to hide their relationship for this long 💀

↪ user oh they did NOT we were just blind

↪ logansargeant I didn't find out until I got the wedding invitation in the mail 🤝

↪ landonorris i think that's just cause you're oblivious mate 😂

↪ logansargeant what???

↪ landonorris they literally make out all the time in williams hospitality

↪ yourusername lando... 😒

user if your man isn't writing a book professing his love for you, what's he doing with his life?

↪ user oscar's set the standard 😌

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads @misartymis @c-losur3

[mattybsgroupie]

dress | chris sturniolo

contents: fwb; fingering (f receiving); (slightly) exhibitionism; soft dom!chris

- ♡ -

notes: writing chris was hard at first but i had so much fun! i still have another request for him on the drafts - the weeknd anon i did NOT forget you - but i figured id write this one first to get used to it lmaoo it’s so weird let me get my matt back! which btw gonna post a really long one on their birthday and then imma lock in on the pegging request (sturniolo police don’t kill me) it’s super super short but i hope you enjoy it ♡ tysm for over 1k followers, much much love ♡ it’s NOT proofread — i apologize for any mistakes but hopefully they won’t harm the story.

requested by: my dear funny gorgeous smart friend whom i very much love @thepubeburgler

- ♡ -

i couldn't stop laughing. nick had stumbled upon his feet and fallen flat onto the sofa, not making any effort to get up. amidst all the laughter, my hair got caught up in my hoop earrings, yanking my strands forward. “shit”, i muttered, trying to loosen it with my fingers as i recovered from the hilarious sight in front of me.

after a while trying, i realized i wasn't going to be successful in detangling my hair. i headed for the bathroom, turning myself to the reflection in the mirror and bringing my body near the sink so i could see better.

still listening to the chatter outside, i noticed footsteps approaching. they sounded unconcerned, like someone was dragging their feet until they suddenly stopped behind the door.

i heard three sharp knocks and answered “come in”, bumping into chris leaning on the doorframe. he checked me out from head to toe, not saying a word. instead, he simply entered the restroom and chuckled, watching me struggle with my own earring.

“let me help” he said, pulling up the sleeves of his t-shirt and stepping closer, tucking part of my hair behind my ear and cupping my face with both hands. chris quickly sealed our lips on a playful kiss and started to work in undoing my tangled logs, soon popping my hoop back in. he allowed me turn and check in the mirror if he'd done it the proper way, and i nodded as i admired the sight of us both standing there, in that tiny bathroom. i was wearing a long sleeve, knit sweater dress, stripes accentuating my curves and outlining my hips. chris looked handsome as he always does. he had a yellow bandana tying his long hair back and a necklace enhancing his collarbones. i couldn't help but let out a sigh, receiving a giggle from him in response.

both of us noticed how the atmosphere quickly changed, becoming more tense as chris came closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my right shoulder, blue eyes piercing me through the mirror.

“you look so good” he whispered in my ear, dragging his hand on my dress while biting on whatever his lips could reach. he saw my nipples hardening, poking through the thick fabric and with a naughty grin, he squeezed my thighs, running his hand upwards until my sweater was above my hips, exposing my panties to him. 

chris' fingers brushed over my underwear, teasing my waistband. i held my breath as his digits went down, sneaking inside my black panties. watching chris touching me in front of the mirror was almost pornographic, my mouth hanging open while he kept on groping my skin. i slightly opened my legs, spreading my body weight better and giving him more access so he could drag his fingers through my already folds. chris' lips reached my neck and i threw my head back, letting him mark me as much as he wanted.

he wouldn't take his eyes off me. i could feel he had noticed how my breath got heavier, my chest rising as he decided to increase his pace, quickly rubbing my clit. “eyes on the mirror, ma” he muffled in my ear. ”take a look at yourself, how pretty you are”

“chris-” i moaned, struggling to continue looking.

“do something for me yeah?” he asked and i nodded vigorously - i'd do anything if that meant he'd continue touching me.

chris took his finger out of my underwear, making me groan in frustration. he held back a laugh, wrapping his arms around my waist and taking a few steps backwards, carrying me with him. his back was now resting against the wall and he brought one of his hands to the back of my thighs, giving two light taps, asking me to lift it up.

i had now one foot on the floor and the other hanging as he held my thigh up, soon motioning me so i could step on the countertop while he kept me balanced by holding me in his arms and supporting me with his legs. “let go, babe. i'm holding you” he said, noticing my stiff body, unable to relax in that position.

chris's digits ran across my bare skin and soon reached the spot where they had been before, making me gasp. “shh” he shushed me, “just wanna make you feel good, mamas. nobody's getting here babe, relax f'me”.

i took a deep breath and nodded, acknowledging that chris would never do anything i didn't enjoy. he pulled my panties aside, exposing open pussy to both of us in front of the mirror. chris teased my entrance, two digits pressing on my thigh hole as he pretented to thrust all at once, but only massaging the area before going back to my clit, his circular motions causing me to whimper.

one of my hands went behind chris, trying to get a grip of his hair, but my desperation made me end up tugging on his bandana. he groaned in a playful tone as the fabric came down his eyes, messing up his curls and blocking his vision. i finished pulling the bandana off, putting it between my teeth before returning my hand to chris's hair, pulling and begging him to keep going.

his palm left my waist went up to my breasts, groping my tit before he gently returned to my tight hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside.

“look how well you're taking me, ma” he spoke, turning my attention to how his finger had completely vanished in me, filling me up entirely. as couldn't even moan because of the fabric in my mouth, let alone speak, i jointed my hips forward, indicating to chris that he could start moving. “so eager aren't you?” i nodded in agreement. i needed him to fuck me.

chris began to speed up his movements, the wet sounds of my pussy taking over the small bathroom we were squeezed into. in one of his thrusts, chris added another finger, stretching my walls in a sudden move. i rolled my eyes and opened my mouth, the yellow cloth i was holding with my teeth falling on the floor beneath me. with my lips now uncovered, my whimpers got louder as chris kept on fucking me. he curled his fingers inside of me, hitting my sensitive spot and making my legs tremble. noticing i wouldn't last long, chris tightened his grip on my thigh even more, leaving a mark that would definitely be purple the next day. 

chris shoved his fingers in relentlessly when his thumb met my clit, letting my hips buck forward unconsciously, the friction increasing my pleasure. the knot in my stomach was turning harder to ignore, chris's heavy breathing on my neck made me even hornier while his free hand played with my covered nipples. 

“chris- shit!” i whined “chris let... let me cum, fuck!”

“no one's stopping you mamas” he whispered, moving my hair to the side as my moans became louder and louder. “go ahead. don't be fucking loud, everyone is outside. you want them to know i can get you off this quick?”

i was thrown off the edge when chris pulled me closer and i felt his hardened cock being lazily dragged on my ass. i could feel his boner poking me through the cloth when my orgasm washed over me, my chest panting heavily as chris kept his grip on me, holding my body while i came back from my high.

he allowed me to rest, taking my thigh on his hand and gently letting my foot meet the floor again. chris turned me over, letting me snuggle in his chest as i watched him t bake both fingers to his mouth, licking the mess i'd made. “you're so fucking delicious” he said, pulling out of the hug and bending over to pick up his bandana. he quickly tied his long, brown locks into the yellow fabric and unlocked the door after giving me a kiss on the forehead.

“chris! where are you going?”

“outside...?” he said as if it was obvious when he saw my furrowed eyebrows “i'll tell them i was helping you fix your dress or something” he joked and i rolled my eyes, catching a sigh of my figure on the mirror. i looked ruined.

“you're staying over tonight, right?” chris asked and i nodded as i fixed my hair once again, pulling my dress down and covering the purple marks he had left on my legs. “great, you can pay me back later” he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and winked at me, leaving the bathroom and closing the door outside.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @bugeyedgrl @mattslittlecumsslut @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069 @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @sturniolofandomthings @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @sofieeeeex

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you test just how pink you can make idia's hair.

COMMENTS: happy birthday @edith-is-a-cat!! i wrote this while listening to one of the sappiest songs i have ever heard in my life so if it reads Sappy THATS WHY....i hope its a good birthday gift ehehe <3333 AND YOU SHOULD TOTALLY MAKE SELF SHIP ART

His hair is already pink.

“Idia, love, you’re not going to last long if you keep getting embarrassed.” you giggle, gazing at him adoringly, “Just let me hold you for a little while.”

“Only because it’s your birthday.” he mumbles, arms circling around your waist. He buries his face into your shoulder as if to hide, even though he doesn’t need to.

You drag him out of the shell he’s built around himself, pressing kisses to his temple until he slowly shows you his face, cheeks burning as bright as his hair. You coax him closer, gently leading him hand in hand toward the idea that he is loved, that he is cherished. Your fingers trace his cheekbones and the curve of his jaw, down to his collarbone. You laugh quietly as he squirms when you touch his neck—he’s ticklish, you know this, but you’re also a little bit mean.

The kiss you place on his collarbone is full of reverence. It makes the pink spread closer towards his scalp.

You’ve almost forgotten the purpose of this little game, it’s easy to forget when you’re sitting in his lap as his fingers flex against your waist, his hair fanning out around you like a giant halo and a pair of angel’s wings, enveloping you in their warmth and the promise of forever.

“You’re an angel, Idia.” you breathe, pulling away to admire him.

He freezes when he sees your face, eyelashes fluttering as his lips part. He's so beautiful, really. You could stare at him forever.

“Wh...!? Why are you crying!?” he scrambles to hold your face, frantically swiping the tears away with his thumbs.

You choke back a laugh that sounds more like a sob—how did you not realize? How is it so easy to forget everything but him when he’s near?

“I guess I just love you too much.” you smile, tears rolling down your face, “I love you so much.”

The pink flames reach his scalp.

“That’s such a silly reason.” he says weakly, hands still pressed to your cheeks.

“But it’s mine.” you say back, placing your hands over his, “It’s my reason.”

[monamipencil]

asking svt if you can tie a bow on ‘it’ | 95 line

genre; nsfw, cockette, mdni <3 | a/n; it's damn time consuming to write for 13 men :| so 95z for now! this has been on my mind for so long now.. | check out 96z, 97z, maknaez!

— seungcheol

genuinely confused when you ask him about it. “tie a ribbon on what?” but you don't explain and again ask him. so, he lets you do so ‘cause what harm would a ribbon do? he’s amused and curious when you get on you knees and palm his cock while looking up at him through your lashes. oh. he curses under his breath as you take out his girthy cock, pressing a kiss on the tip before tying a light pink ribbon near his tip. he can't help the pride and cockiness that fills him when he takes photos of you and his cock. and of course he has to get a picture of your face covered with him cum and with the ribbon still on it <3

— jeonghan

not really into it when you mention it but will play into just to tease the fuck out of you. first, he'll make you say your request clearly and loudly. “hmm? can't hear you baby.” and you have to look at him while saying it. has a shit-eating grin and agrees, albeit with no interest. only allows you to tie the ribbon after you suck him off. and after he cums, his dick goes flaccid and he's like “oops, gotta do it again, i guess.” and he feels lightheaded and drowsy after cumming 3 times in a row, and he finally gives in, letting you tie the ribbon around his cock. watches with a lazy smile as you take selfies with his dick. “my cock drunk slut.”

— joshua

flabbergasted. his eyes goes all wide and his mouth parts a bit when you suggest the idea. and this is also in public when he asked why you were so excited about buying ribbons, and you nonchalantly bringing it up. you didn't mention his cock though, only hinting on it. but that's enough to keep him thinking for the rest of the day. but he eventually forgets it as days go by, and you don't implement your action right away. it's on your birthday that you do it. he feels so bad when you said that the day could've been better but it's all thrown out the window when you so nicely ask for his cock as a gift, asking him to tie a ribbon around his girth and present it to you. “it’s always yours, sweetheart.” [and he remembers it for your next birthdays ;) ]

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia (send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[chateaaa]

☆ What dating the blue lock characters feels like (pt 2)

Dating Sae Itoshi includes matching earrings, having your initial dangling in his dominant leg (so every time he scores he dedicates the goals to you), having you in the back of his phone, being mean to everyone but you, buying you everything you want, giving you his password to all his socials, buying you flowers every week, slow dancing in the rain, watching hello kitty with you, kissing you on the back of your hand <3

Dating Shidou Ryusui includes bear hugs!!, slapping your ass every time he gets a chance, biting you randomly, love hate relationship, "shut up" x "make me", would try to be romantic (it does not work), would always expect you watching his games, looking at you in the crowd if he scores a goal, making boys near you cry because he dosnt want them to steal you away from him

Dating Otoya Eita includes kissing you on the neck, painting each other's nails in the color of black, wearing a pink scrunchie you gave him as a joke he now won't remove it from his arm, giving you his hoodie, acts of service, only wearing this specific perfume when you guys meet, pocky game (he would purposely lose)

Dating Tabito Karasu includes flirting with you in front of your friends, matching lego heart keychain, giving you cute random things and saying "my chick number 7 gave this to me, i don't need it so you can have it" that's a lie, he spended 3 days deciding what to give you, carrying you like a sack around, matching sneakers

Dating Alexis Ness includes worshipping you like a goddess, loving every single part of you, carrying an extra ponytail for you, buying you snacks, being very possessive, always wanting to wear matching clothes, words of affirmation and physical touch!!, telling his teamates about how good and kind you are, literally making you experience any kind of dates ex: beach dates, museum dates, stargazing dates, always wanting to touch any part of your body; arms, cheeks, hands

Dating Hiori Yo includes arcade dates!!, winning you stuff toys in claw machines, gaming dates, photobooth dates, physical touch and quality time!!, cuddling while raining, playing games even if your horrible, the beds in minecraft being side by side, carrying you in literally any game, sending you spotify lyrics that he thinks relates to your relationship with him, watching netflix together during summer vacation

Dating Noel Noa includes waking up during weekends with him serving you breakfast in bed, carrying you around like a teddy, all love language, gifting you extravagant gifts everyday, leaving you colorful sticky notes in the counter everyday with daily reminders such as "don't forget to drink water" or "i'm going home late, you should sleep early today"

Dating Ikki Nikko includes only letting you touch his hair, cafe dates, letting you have his drink if you like it more, gifting you a giant teddy on your birthday, would always update you through chat, sending you spotify playlists, handwritten letters, sending memes to eachother, dreaming about being married and adopting 5 cats

Dating Yukimiya Kenyu includes neck kisses!, ranting about all his problems to you at 3 am while cuddling, taking pictures of you every time you go out, his wallpaper being you (he changes his wallpaper every week), just because flowers, photographer x model, always having your favorite food in his bag

Dating Charles Chevalier includes painting each other's nails with the eye color of each other, him only listening to you, sunshine x grumpy, always asking for headpats, booping your nose, watching disney every night before going to bed, expecting you to feed him every time you go out

idk guys kasasu and otoya feels ooc, I THINK IT'S VERY HARD TO WRITE ABOUT THEM SINCE I FEEL LIKE THEY'RE RED FLAGS AND I REALLY DON'T KNOW ABOUT THEIR PERSONALITY THAT MUCH..... (sorry karasu and otoya fans 😔😔) but anw hope you all still like it ☝🏻🤓

btw PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SUGGEST ANYTHING TO WRITE IM HAVING WRITERS BLOCK LOL

[forteafy]

Baby Steps | MV1

Summary: You've always been Mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. All it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all.

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: Mild Smut, Childbirth, Angst, Mentions of Jos Verstappen.

26th November; the night of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix should have been the happiest of your life. 

Not many people in the world can hold their head up high and say they have won a Formula 1 world championship, let alone three. Ever since your toothy grin and shy comments when first stepping into the paddock, you had been making waves in the motorsport world. Years later, under the attentive eye of Toto Wolff and Mercedes, you had become effortlessly cool and undeniably talented; the core makings of a three-time world champion. 

The night of your first win was…you can’t even say a distant memory; the last thing you could vividly remember was linking arms with the golden boy of Mercedes, laughing merrily as you were guided down to the foyer of the extravagant hotel, the entire team with their warm comments and loving attitude ready for their new-found champion. The next day consisted of crouching over the porcelain throne, your insides rejecting any form of substance, the smell of tequila on your skin making you belch more. It was a cruel cycle, but one that every world champion had learnt. 

It also hadn’t ceased you from repeating the identical routine the next year; the feeling was so nice, you had to do it twice. Ironically, you had also worn the identical bra and panty set of the first year; not that anybody had seen it. Boys were off limits during the height of your career. This was your choice, of course. PR would have given their overpriced marketing tools to see you on the arm of a successful man, thinking of the faux love story they could spin. 

No, in order to be successful, respected; you’d sworn off any romantic relationship. You were not a figure to be held next to a man for beauty. Moreover, you were almost certain that if Toto saw a man within three feet of you, he’d frighten them off, in true fear that anybody would come near his youngest prodigy. 

The third year had been set; the routine was laid out in front of you, ready to make mistakes you’d groan and then forget about by the fourth. Instead, you found yourself crouched in the cramped cubicle of the nightclub, a hand over your mouth and nose, attempting to muffle the gulps from your lips. Your eyes had glossed over, intensely focused on the piece of plastic fisted in your palm. Two blue lines, interlapped to create a cross. A plus sign. A positive sign.

You were pregnant. 

19th October; a month prior to what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

You’d been the personification of a peacock; feathers flexing as you walked through the paddock, your tenth pole position of the year resting comfortably on your shoulders. Heavy pats on your back, a cheeky wink towards the camera of Sky Sports and cheers from the crowds had guided your return to your motorhome, thanking your PR assistant as you slid into the only four walls on the track where there was a form of privacy. 

Except there wasn’t. A figure was relaxed into your sofa with a photograph in his hands, eyes trained on your body when you’d entered the room, unknowing of their presence. A grin appeared on his smug face upon seeing you practically skyrocket out of your skin, noting the other person in your sanctuary. He eventually stands up, removing his branded Red Bull cap to place on your sofa. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Max.” You scoff, snatching the polaroid out of his fingers, returning the photo to its rightful place; atop of the plush chilli Carlos Sainz had bought you for your birthday. (He’d also bought you a bullet vibrator, trying to remind you of your stubbornness, urging you to relax a little.) 

“Nice photograph.” He comments, his blue eyes flickering over to where it now stood, propped up in pride. You sat centre of the track in Abu Dhabi; two younger figures sat between your legs. They both rested a chubby hand on your World Driving Championship trophy, huge grins at the shining object. “Friends of yours?” 

“Sisters.” You mumble in return, removing the snapback from your head, balancing it on top of your shelf. The cool air finds the roots of your hair instantly, a wave of relief rolling through your entire body when your hand comes up to soothe your scalp. “Congratulations on…was it P16?” You gloat, hoping your rival would catch the message that you didn’t want him to be there. 

Max feels his lips drop and eyebrows meet at the cold reminder of his own qualification result. He knew the season was drawing to a close, quickly at that, and the constant reminder that he would be losing another championship to Mercedes golden girl was the last thing he needed. The smug grin on your lips remains, turning around to slide your arms out of your race suit, letting the top half rest on your hips, sleeves hanging loosely at your legs. 

“That’s why I came to see you.” He responds, standing up straighter, arms folded as his eyes train on your own movement. “It makes my losses look miniscule compared to your own.” His own grin has returned now, satisfied with his own response to the situation. 

You had been playing this game for months. The first year of your relationship on the grid had been friendly, the second had been hostile. The third had been downright dangerous. It began to get to a point where the grid, the press, everyone had picked up on the relationship between yourself and the Red Bull driver. 

“Hey, I’ll do anything to help you forget this will be my third World Championship.” You snap back, turning around to meet his figure, your own arms mimicking, folding against your chest. This time, you take a step closer. “Maybe next year Christian Horner will remember his ‘Precious Little Maxie.’ 

Max scoffs at the nickname you had given him, eyes noting the step you had taken. He responds, taking his own step. “Trust me. There’s nothing little about me.” His eyes meet yours when he finishes his sentence, and for the first time, Max Verstappen has left you completely and utterly speechless. Mind goes into overdrive, years of hatred are forgotten has his hands fly out, grasping each side of your face, meshing his lips to your own. 

Your first thought is to push the swine away, slap him across the face and scream for Toto Wolff to grab him by the collar. Clouded, spaced out; your mind begins to crack, your only thought is how good his lips feel against your own, how soft they feel against your cheek, how sinful they trace against your neck. 

Max’s palms had originally rested on your cheek, they had begun their trail, slithering down your sides, grip tightening as they reached your hips, forcefully pulling you towards his body, grinding his crotch against your own, the desperation of his member clearly noticeable. 

A gasp emitted from your lips, feeling his teeth begin to nip across the soft skin of your neck, desperately searching for that one spot that would make you crumble. Max’s hands make quick work, one wrapping around your waist in order to keep you secure, the other grasping you fireproofs, race suit and panties in a fluid motion, exposing the sweet centre he had been craving. Nimble fingers trail around your entrance, swiping a finger against your most sensitive bundle of nerves, rewarding him with the most sinful sound he had ever received. 

“Max-“ You gasped, mind clouded by lust, how your desire of this man had built from your core the moment you had seen him in person, years ago. “Max, please-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He mumbled, his own hand pulling down his trousers and underwear, rubbing his shaft for preparation. “Do not ruin this fucking moment.” 

In a swift motion, Max has you pinned against the wall of your driver room, the cool wall sending a shiver against your skin. You barely have time to register the coolness dancing across you before your mind is overwhelmed by the feeling of his length slipping into your wet folds, and there is truly nothing little about him in that moment, mind sent into overdrive when he brings his lips back to yours. 

19th December, twenty-three days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

You had finally thrown yourself entirely into a distraction; Christmas. You’d flew back to Brackley alongside your teammate, both of you returning to the Mercedes base before retiring for the holidays. There had been no string short of invites flooding into your inbox, asking if you wanted to join them in any festivities. Anything at this point was a wanted distraction from the impending coil growing in your stomach, both figuratively and literally. 

And so, you attended a Christmas Market alongside George and Carmen, passing on the mulled wine the two had insisted on trying. You’d gone to see Jack’s Christmas performance alongside Toto and Suzie but declined going to the fish restaurant they had mentioned; (you’d read somewhere in your first week of sheer panic that you could no longer go near fish whilst pregnant.) You’d gone to Lando’s new apartment in London but had seen the scowl on his face when you’d complained about your ‘bad stomach,’ and couldn’t do any heavy lifting of decorations. 

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve; Lewis had come to your family’s home, presents for your younger siblings, parents and yourself, of course. He’d sat politely, sipped on your mother’s tea, laughed politely at the antics building up towards the big day itself. 

Spending time with somebody for three quarters of the year will teach you a lot about them; Lewis knew you like he knew each twist and turn of every track he’d raced along during the years. He knew you laughed with your whole stomach to the point where you had to grab something for support; that before every single race you would have your ‘top secret handshake’ with your race engineer, (you insisted your race would always go more smoothly if you did so, the last time you didn’t had resulted in a DNF.) 

What Lewis knew most, was you were a complete and utter sucker for anything with chocolate. He had seen you practically sob when your trainer had found protein brownies that would work in your diet. So why did you decline your mothers’ sweet desserts when offered around the lounge? Why did you seem to hold your breath when the scent of treats was wafted under your nose, almost as if you’d vomit if you came into contact with them? 

Carefully, your teammate placed his mug down on the low table, wiggling out of the space between your younger sisters; both were entranced by him. In any other situation, he would have sat there for hours, listening to their oh-so-sweet stories. Instead, he whistled for Roscoe, watching as the dog stooped up from his position by the fire, tottering over towards his owner.

“I’m going to take Roscoe out for a wee.” He nods towards your figure, slouched on the opposite sofa. “You coming?” The way he phrases his question; you can tell it’s not a question, it’s a command. You nod, placing down your own mug, stretching as you pulled yourself away from the leather recliner. 

Your sisters were now engrossed by one of the presents Lewis has insisted they had to open early. Your mother and father were running through their guest list for tomorrow; nobody seemed to notice as the two of you slipped on your outerwear, whistling for Roscoe as you stepped through the dining room and onto the porch of the family home you had gifted your parents almost 1 year ago now. 

Lewis’ eyes meet yours the moment you had closed the ornate doors. You struggle to meet his gaze; you know he has begun to put the pieces of this metaphorical puzzle together. He barely waits for the sound of the door closing before he starts to speak, the mannerisms he reserves for his teammate in instant appeal. 

“Alright. What’s happening then?” He asks almost instantly, motioning for you to walk alongside him, taking the scenic route of the large garden. “You’d never turn down sweet things. You do everything to make your mother smile, why would you turn down her cooking?”

“I’ve just gone off that kind of stuff.” You mumble, not really thinking about what you were saying. You’d later remember to be more careful with your responses. You were not expecting him to piece it together so quickly through his own train of thought. 

“Oh, my sister was like that when she was pregnant with-“ He cuts himself off, ceasing his steps when he realises what has escaped his lips. His head snaps back to look at you, and his heart melts. You, his self-assured, sweet teammate, now with tears in your eyes, a visible shake running across your body. He’s not stupid, he’s far from it. 

“You’re pregnant.” He almost whispers, seeing how the words are visibly affecting you. Lewis says nothing, instead pulling you straight into his chest, arms engulfing you as he feels your body loosen, silently shaking with held back tears of being reminded of your current situation. “But…how?” He murmurs, loud enough for you to hear. He knew of your dating rule. Even outside of the press, no man ever seemed to be enough to knock you down, let alone knock you up. 

You can’t tell him, not now. You couldn’t tell him. You had to tell him. 

“Max.” You whisper, barely able to have the name on your lips. Lewis’ brows furrow. He knows in his heart he is right, but he doesn’t want to be. 

“Fewtrell?” He responds, referencing to Lando’s oldest friend. You had been to see them recently, after all.

“Verstappen.”

Lewis’ isn’t sure what to say in that moment. Instead, he simply keeps you in his arms, in this moment at least, he can keep you warm, safe. Away from questioning eyes and the stories which will surely follow you until the end of time, until the end of your career. Instead, he asks the one question which you had been blocking out for oh-so-long, that you had been putting off since you threw yourself into these festivities. 

“What are you going to do?” 

6th January, 41 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

You knew what you were going to do.

You knew from the moment you had been called into your first ultrasound scan; by this point, only a few select people knew of the situation. Lewis. Your parents. The delivery driver at Dominoes Pizza whom had given you a strange look when handing over a pizza with no cheese, but three lots of spicy peppers. 

Going to your first ultrasound alone had been terrifying; bringing somebody along would have drawn too much attention. You had played a mighty risk by going alone, hoping you wouldn’t be recognised. You didn’t want Mercedes to catch wind of the happenings, instead hoping nobody would openly tweet about your live location.

Your nurse doesn’t recognise you; if she does, she doesn’t show it. She’s polite and kind, makes sure that you haven’t used the bathroom in four hours, something to do with amniotic fluid. The cold jelly on your stomach sends an odd feeling through your body, as if cold cream was balancing on your tummy. There’s a sharp prod, a poke, and then you see the nurse smile.

“Ah, there they are!” She glows. 

And there they are. Sat there, in your stomach. A small curve, to anybody else, a completely unidentifiable shape. But to you? The most precious shape that was completely and utterly undeniably yours. How you could have thought that you could go through life without knowing them is beyond you. 

That was the moment you knew what you were going to do.

All you had to do now, was tell Toto. No big deal. 

23rd February, 89 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

“Horner!”

Toto was known to be larger than life, and his voice only proved that theory as he stormed out of his Paddock Office, completely abandoning any information being presented about Pre-Testing in Bahrain. Instead, he’s seeing red, he’s seeing that Horner’s complete and utter dickhead of a driver has knocked up his winner. His current champion. (With no disrespect to Lewis, of course.)

Your teammate had been there, holding your hand when you had broken the news to Toto, your race engineer and your trainer. Your PR assistant was aware of the situation, currently attempting to make a game plan of how to handle the situation. She was adamant you needed to remain in the paddock; you ­still needed to be a part of the sporting world, even if you weren’t driving. 

At first, Toto thought it was Lewis’ baby, ready to bang both of their heads together and reprimand them for not being careful. When it had slipped whose child it was, (Toto was well aware of your rule too, he was just as confused as Lewis had been when he’d first found out.) Toto didn’t care about anything. More importantly, he didn’t care that your pregnancy wasn’t public knowledge. 

Toto had stormed into Red Bull’s garage, much to the widened eyes of Christian Horner. Despite being shorter, he instantly holds himself against the Austrian, arms folded, a smirk on his face at the entrance of the unwanted guests. 

“How can I help you, Toto?” He smirks, ready for some remark. Instead, Toto leans to Christian’s ear, murmuring something unhearing to the rest of the garage. You can take a guess to what is said however, judging by how pale the Red Bull’s Team Principle had gone. In one swift move, he motions for Toto and yourself to follow him, calling out to his own team. 

“Send Max to my office. Now.” His voice is unrevealing, but his skin is growing paler by the minute. 

You had never been into a Red Bull garage, and yet now you sat in Horner’s own office, amazed by the fact their colour schemes and trophies could be carried around the world. Mercedes kept theirs at home, sometimes plain and simple was the way to go. You began to wonder if you should bring your trophies to your next races, maybe it would give the team a reminder of what can be achieved. 

“Sit.” Horner motions to the couch in the office. You take a seat almost instantly, overwhelmed by the entire situation. Lewis places himself next to you, an arm around your back protectively. Toto refuses to take a command, instead remaining standing, arms folded, a glare of hatred towards Christian. 

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” The Red Bull team principal scoffs. “I didn’t tell Max to sleep with your little prodigy.” He may not be showing it, but Christian himself was downright livid with his driver. Max needed to focus; the team needed to focus on gaining back a world championship. Max was scarily focused, but when it came to the women in his life; his mother, his sister, his new little girlfriend Christian had seen in the paddock earlier that day, he would change, they became his focus. 

“You need to keep that boy away from my team!” Toto retaliates. He could have gone deeper, he was all but ready to drag Max into the middle of the track and hold him there, letting Lewis drive into him at full force. Before any more threats could be thrown across the office, a door opens, the present grin on Max Verstappen’s face wiped instantly upon seeing Toto, Lewis and yourself. 

“Max.” Christian starts, arms folded, the voice he used to reprimand his children now present. He can’t continue his phrasing however, before Toto scoffs, pointing an accusing finger towards the driver. 

“You!” He roars, instantly forgetting the plead you had given him half an hour before, longing to keep this news as quiet as you could for as long as possible. “You couldn’t keep away; you have ruined my team! How dare you knock her up!” Toto is only stopped when you jump up from your seat, grabbing both of his arms in an attempt to stop his frantic ranting. 

It takes Max a moment to process what has been said, he’s always struggled with quick responding when it’s not on a racetrack. It hits him all at once. Your pregnant. You’d slept together a month ago. Without protection, purely in the heat of the moment. Max Verstappen was going to be a father alongside his arch-rival. 

“You’re pregnant?” Max can’t help his questioning, catching your eyes for the first time since entering the room. You can only offer him a nod, unable to form words in that current moment. “And…it’s mine? Are you sure?”

Your blood ran cold, you finally understood the rage that your Team Principle. You turn around, eyes darkened, shaking your head in pure anger. “Who else have I slept with, Max? You want to tell me that?” The audacity of this man. How dare he question you. 

“You’re not keeping it, right?” Christian is the first to question. Max’s eyes gloss over, coughing lightly before overtaking the conversation from his own Team Principle. “I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.” His own skin mimics that of Christian; he turns as pale as the white lines of a hard tyre. 

“You’re not-“ You cut yourself off, instead opting to keep silent. You had nothing else to say. Max had made his stance on the situation ­clear. “I don’t need you, Max. I can do this myself.” The entire room watches as you pull away from Lewis and Toto, never once looking at the father of your child. 

10st March, 105 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

The Monaco Grand Prix was usually the highlight of your year; champagne podiums, speed boats and the comfort of sleeping in your own bed. However, this time you were not watching it from the screen of your car, nor the comfort of the paddock. You’d opted to remain at your apartment. For a start, the headlines which had been spiralling across the media were growing overwhelming. ‘Mercedes driver pulled out of racing until further notice.’ ‘Max Verstappen breaks up with new girlfriend after only weeks together.’ ‘Valtteri Bottas to pose for nude charity calendar.’

Maybe that last one wasn’t to do with your situation; you were all too aware of how your grid buddy could act in his down time. 

Your second worry was the fact that your bump was beginning to grow adamant. It had only been around three months, yet the bump seemed almost ballooning. Every piece of clothing you tried on made you feel like it was more and more obvious. You didn’t want anybody seeing what was happening to your body. Besides, it wasn’t like the pregnancy was an ­entire secret anymore.

You hadn’t heard from Max since that day in the office. Toto had found you crying an hour later, coaxing you to stop for your own health and the sake of the baby. For the first part of the racing season, your unfilled seat had been passed to George Russell. You’d smiled at each interviewer, telling the world you had an injury which made driving next to impossible at the present time. For each Grand Prix, you’d stayed sat next to Toto, cheering on the silver arrows. Maybe you hadn’t seen Max because you barely set foot outside of the garage. 

The news had slowly begun to spread from driver to driver, though each remained loyal and hadn’t told the press of your true reasoning for stepping away. Charles had been around in an instant, helping you to talk through what had been happening. He was your neighbour, after all, he liked to check in when he could. You’d had a visit from Daniel, telling you his best friend was a…well, how he put it, ‘a grade-a cunt,’ for how he had reacted. 

There was only one person, however, whom you had wanted to speak to. Sebastian had been a close friend, almost a mentor, during your first batch of Formula 1 seasons. He was also a father himself, maybe he would be able to explain to you Max’s stance on the whole thing. 

You knew he was visiting Monaco that weekend for the Grand Prix. When your phone buzzed from your living room, you’d assumed it was him asking for you to come and let you into the complex. What you were not expecting, was the text on your phone from none other than the father of your child. 

14:05: Max Verstappen

I don’t know if you have me blocked, I’m hoping you do not. I want to apologise for my reaction. It was a lot. I want to be there, for you and our child. 

14:09: You

I appreciate the message. Thank you. My next scan is on Tuesday, after Monaco. 

14:11: Max Verstappen

I’d like to be there. Could you send me the details, please?

14th March, 109 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

Max Verstappen was not a practical man. 

Despite telling him you would meet him at the address you had sent him, he’d shown up to your apartment just before you were set to leave. Standing in the lobby of your apartment complex, a large bouquet of flowers resting in his arms. You could have sworn you’d never seen Max outside of jeans and a Red Bull polo shirt; it was refreshing to see him in crisp shirt and cargo trousers. 

“You didn’t have to dress up.” You mumble, looking down to your own outfit; a soft summer dress seemed positively ordinary; hair loose around your shoulders. It was just a scan, after all. It wasn’t as if the two of you would be going on a date; you hated the man stood in front of you. However, a smile is soon nestled on your face when the man offers you the bundle of flowers, offering a warm grin alongside them. 

“You look nice.” Max nods, motioning towards the exit of the complex. His car was parked directly outside, as in order to avoid the press whom would undoubtedly be looking for the drivers in Monaco. The flowers decorated your arms, carefully resting them on your lap before adjusting your seatbelt. “Do you need anything?” He looks back to the complex, concerned if you had forgotten something.

“I just need the bathroom.” You mention half-heartedly. Max’s eyes widen, ready to step out of the car and lead you back into the apartment. “Oh-“ You cut yourself off, having to explain the situation. “No, I need a full bladder for the scan, so they can see the baby.” The man nods in understanding, sitting himself in the driver’s seat, looking both ways before beginning to start the route towards clinic. 

The car ride between the two of you was unusually peaceful; Max made light conversation, filling you in on the antics of the paddock from that weekend. You can’t hold back the laugh from your lips when he mentions Christian Horner slipping off his high seat when excitedly jumping to his feet. You missed the paddock; you missed the feeling of racing; you especially missed the banter between your friends. You’d have to return, sooner rather than later.

When the two of you pulled into the car park, Max was quick to step out of his seat, opening the car door for you. You offer him a quiet thanks before making your way into the building, side by side. The nurse you had previously seen gives you a smile, delighted to finally see the father of the baby alongside you. 

Max had silently followed you into the room; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak, quite the opposite. The man was taking in every piece of information that was being given, silent notes in his mind on each aspect. He’d keep the baby safe; he’d keep you safe, too. Ever now the gentlemen, he helps you to lie down on the seat, your bumped stomach revealed through lifting the skirt of your summer dress. 

He can’t help but notice the soft underwear decorating your lower half. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked, after all. That’s how you had got here in the first place. His thoughts are soon side-tracked when seeing you wince from the coldness of the jelly and the cramp of the scanning machine. Max’s hand trails, feeling your own resting aside your body. He can’t help but hold onto it, trying to offer you some sort of comfort. Maybe it’s the sudden nerves, but your hand grabs back just as tightly, feeling his thumb rub carefully against your knuckles. 

“You okay?” He mumbles, trying to keep a low profile from the nurse. You can only nod, comforted in the way your…rival…was now holding your hand so preciously. 

“Now…” The nurse begins. “I wanted to check with you both, you mentioned wanting to find out the gender of your child.” Her question is directed towards you, Max’s eyes darting between the two women in the room. “Of course, if dad doesn’t want to know, he can leave-“

“Oh, no.” Max interrupts, mind racing at a thousand thoughts per minute. “I’d…I want to know too.” He agrees, nodding in synch with you. 

“Well, congratulations. You’re having a beautiful baby girl.” The nurse confirms, turning around the screen to you both. The undefinable shape you had seen mere weeks ago had developed, becoming a more shaped being. You could see the baby forming, eyes widening in shock. Your eyes glanced over to Max, his grip tightening on your palm. 

You didn’t miss the glossed tears in his eyes. He knew in that very moment that this baby, this moment was…everything to him. 

2nd May, 158 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

Overnight, Max Verstappen had truly wiggled his way into your inner circle. The two of you had barely said ten civilised words to one another since meeting all those years ago. Now? There was a string of texts almost every morning, asking how you were feeling, to let him know if you needed anything. You had truly begun to push the limits of his patience. The man had showed up your doorstep one morning with a bag of cinnamon pretzels after hearing your cries down the telephone line. 

Right now, the two of you were basking in the bliss of your little bundle of joy; there were still a lot of heavy conversations to come, but the first wave of nerves had passed, you were now simply excited to meet the little being growing in your stomach. 

The two of you had developed a successful co-parenting system to work your way through the pregnancy; Max had engrossed himself in endless copies of baby books. Daniel had found him one afternoon in his driving room, highlighting a textbook on what the main causes of a baby crying could be. He’d started to keep a calendar of every appointment that he’d attend alongside you, notes on the dates that you’re feeling a particular sickness or swelling. If you won’t bring it up with a doctor, he would. 

Max tries to convince himself it’s to keep his baby safe; of course, you need to remain healthy too, but he doesn’t care about you, not in that sense. 

It isn’t until he receives a phone call from you one afternoon, pleading for him to come and collect you from a friend’s house; your car had broken down and your Uber application wouldn’t seem to find you a driver that wasn’t half an hour away. Max had shown up at the doorstep ten minutes later, knocking on the door to signal your arrival. When there was no answer, he took his own incitive to investigate the back garden, hearing the light sound of music, chattering adults and giggling children. 

The garden is in full swing; you hadn’t mentioned it was a party; an extravagant one at that. He’s taken aback by the decorations, a giant bounce house and the most enormous birthday cake he had ever seen. 

His heart almost stops when he sees you.

You, hair framing your face beautifully, a pale pink dress hugging you in the most delicious way. Your attention is focused to the toddler on your hip, your godson. How on earth could you think you were not ready for this? You pulled faces at the young being his giggles screaming through the air. Max had always thought you were pretty, but now he could only see you as a goddess.

He’s convinced himself, after all. He doesn’t care for you. He worships you. 

9th June, 196 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

“I think we should move in together.” 

Max’s attention is drawn up from his phone. Christian and himself had been texting backwards and forwards for the past few days; the driver was trying to rework his schedule so he could at least be with you for a week after the birth. It was getting closer; the world now knew of your pregnancy, the media torn between harsh critics and positive glows. 

What they didn’t know was the father of the child was your sworn enemy. 

Maybe, enemy was a word you didn’t wish to use anymore. A friend didn’t seem right, either. A mix of late-night conversations, spooning ice cream to one another whilst binging a new Netflix series and picking out a bundle of pink pyjamas had drawn the two of you into an undefinable relationship. 

“You know…” You continue. “I want…her to have both her parents about. I don’t want her to grow up in a broken household.” It was true; you’d seen how it could affect people, especially the man who was sat by your side. He understood, completely and utterly. After what he had been through, he wouldn’t wish that on anybody, least of all his own flesh and blood. His own baby. 

“I missed my mother…a lot when I was younger.” He referenced his parents’ separation, how he had barely seen his mother and sister whilst growing up. “I wouldn’t want that for her.” Max rests a hand on your stomach, a soft smile on his face when he looks at you. Even with no makeup, a hoodie which was way too big for you, you were still positively glowing. “Why don’t we have a look tomorrow? Find somewhere around here with enough space for us all.” 

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine, but you’re painting the nursery.” You mumble in response. A small laugh emits from both of your lips. However, yours is soon replaced with a sharp wince, a rumble in your stomach. Max, whom still had a hand resting on the bump immediately stops laughing, both of your eye’s meeting in shock.

“Was that-” He cuts himself off when he feels the movement again. It’s a kick. The baby is kicking. 

“She’s awake!” You laugh, placing your hand carefully across Max’s. You gently guide it across your stomach, tracing the sharp movement in your stomach. “We must have woken her up. Sorry sweet pea.” You direct the last part of your sentence to the baby in your stomach. 

Max gently removes his hand from your stomach, his head tiling closer to your bump. The baby can hear him. She’s in there, nestled and warm, awaiting her welcome into the world. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He mumbles, voice thick from holding back heavy tears. “It’s your Papa.”

He doesn’t miss the small laugh from you, entirely entertained by this whole situation.

“I know I can’t see you yet, but you’re the most beautiful girl I could ever ask for. Just like your mother.” He finishes, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. Softly, he lifts himself up, pressing a kiss to your temple, heads resting gently against one another as the next episode of your series began to play. 

29th June, 216 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life. 

Spa-Francorchamps was the last race on the calendar before the summer break. It was also the last time you would be able to be in the paddock without a baby strapped to your side.

It had been magical, when walking into the Mercedes garage. Cheers had erupted upon seeing their golden girl return to the paddock. Lewis had barely been able to contain himself, pulling you into the tightest hug which could be imagined. Toto had almost started crying, kissing the top of your head and resting a hand on your stomach, declaring the baby as his unborn prodigy. 

There had been no end of drivers coming to meet you, too. Charles and Carlos had declared how much they had missed having you around, presenting you with a baby blanket and beanie. Your heart had ­melted when they explained their mothers had taught them how to knit, both wanting to make a present for you, stitched with love. You’d almost started crying, hormones were in full swing in the third trimester, kissing both on the cheek and thanking them endlessly. 

Yuki had walked up to you that afternoon too, presenting a small Tupperware box. He had noticed you’d completely rejected fish, and most of all sushi, so instead had made you a batch which was pregnancy safe. The two of you had tried a piece there and then, declaring it as quite possibly the best thing your tastebuds had found since pregnancy had altered your tastebuds. 

Daniel had come to find you, telling you to meet him in his garage, that he had a surprise for you both. Both, meaning you’d probably have to find Max, too. 

His garage was only a short walk from where you’d been set up in the Mercedes camp. You’d began to make your way over there, hoping you’d bump into the father of your child on the way. You’d last seen Max that morning, having driven you to the paddock himself. He’d become…fiercely caring since the evening of feeling the baby kick. He’d slept in your bed that night, you are resting against his chest, a form of comfort in the third trimester. 

What you hadn’t expected to see, as you turned the corner, was a beautiful girl, hands resting on Max’s waist, her eyes sparkling, lips moving. You couldn’t see Max’s face, his cap hiding any expression, but your heart knew that he’d be smirking, basking in the attention.

Loving the attention of a beautiful girl, one that wasn’t pregnant with his child.

You couldn’t…understand why you had suddenly cared so much about who he was interacting with. When you’d first started this whole…adventure, he’d still been seen in clubs, leaving with different women on his arm every weekend. You’d hit the second trimester; his party and escapades had stopped, his sole attention of women being on you.

Maybe that was it. You’d grown to like the attention of Max. Whether it was as the father of your child or…something else. 

Your hormones were truly beginning to overtake you, feeling tears trickling out of your water line. You had to look away at that moment, you couldn’t keep looking at the events unfolding in front of you. Your mind traces back to that morning in Christian Horner’s office, how Max had turned pale, not wanting to be burdened with the birth of his child. 

‘I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.’

Maybe he wasn’t. But you were ready to be a mother. 

8th August, 255 days since what should have been the- 

You couldn’t handle this.

The pain was beginning to seethe through your stomach. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was all wrong, it was happening too quickly. 

Since the incident at the paddock, you’d been radio silent towards Max. He wasn’t too sure of ­how it had come to be. All he had known was you’d taken yourself home from Spa, telling him that you’d needed to fly home to be with your parents before the birth.

 One day without a phone call was okay, he suspected it would be due to the time zones. Two was…a little odd. After three, he was frantically packing a suitcase, trying to get hold of anybody who would possibly know your parents’ address. He’d resulted to finding your teammates phone number. After he was met with a string of questions, asking how on earth he had gotten hold of his phone number. When Max had explained you had gone off the grid, Lewis had simply scoffed.

Of course, Lewis had known what had happened. He’d seen you return to grab your bag, eyes glassy as you offered the team a quick goodbye, promising to bring the baby to meet them all as soon as possible. 

The driver had been the one to guide you back through the paddock. Despite not racing together for almost six months, he still had your mannerisms sketched into his mind. Eventually, you’d confided in your closest friend, letting the tears fall freely as he guided you back to your Uber, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a silent promise that he would be there if you needed anything, if there were any more thoughts or issues.

He had no issue telling Max his thoughts over the telephone. Despite Max’s answers, there was no excuse. ‘You were hormonal. How did he think you felt when seeing Max with another woman, even if it was innocent, she didn’t seem to be in that stance.’ 

That was the case. It was an ex-girlfriend, she’d been in the paddock that afternoon, seeking out the world champion in an advancement to get them back together. Max had no intention of going there, not when he was during finding something, some gesture to show you of his advancing feelings over the past few months. That was why he had asked Daniel to get you to his garage. He would be able to surprise you, tell you how he was really feeling, how he loved you, and not just for being the mother of his child.

After copious amounts of pleading, Lewis had eventually sent over the address, giving Max a dire warning as to if he upset you again. 

The flight to your home had been fast. He couldn’t thank his assistant enough, getting a hire car set for the moment he stepped out of the airport. However, turning up at your home to find your father, arms folded, and eyebrows raised at Max’s sudden appearance. Your father barely said two words, just told Max you had gone into labour.

Max’s blood had run cold upon that realisation. He wasn’t there; he wasn’t there to hold your hand when the pain started, to hold your hair up and get some coolness to your overheating skin. He wasn’t ­there. Not for his little girl, and not for her mother. Being a Formula One driver in that evening was the most helpful thing in his opinion, arriving at the hospital in record time. 

Car thrown carelessly into a parking spot, he’d sprinted into the reception, a nurse resting a hand on his arm when seeing the pure shock registered on his face. He couldn’t get any words out properly, simply repeating your name, that he was the father of your child. He wanted to see you, he wanted to see his baby. 

The nurse nodded, motioning for Max to follow him down a corridor. He didn’t like the coldness of the building. You probably felt so alone. Every time he had come with you to a clinic appointment, he’d notice the change in your demeanour, how you felt uncomfortable. You should have opted for a home birth; you would have been calmer. Safer. 

Max eventually reached your hospital room, heart breaking at the sounds from the other side of the door. You were in pain. That much was obvious as he opened the door. Your mother wasn’t present. He knew your stubbornness, knowing that you would have wanted to do this without her. Maybe, you’d want to do this without him, too. 

His train of thought was interrupted, hearing a voice he had missed oh-so-much for the past three days. 

“Max.” You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. The gas wasn’t working, the epidural hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to feel ever piece of this. 

The man sprang into action; in an instant, his jacket was removed, revealing his soft t-shirt and trackpants. A seat was pulled up to the head of your bed, Max sitting himself down, one hand running across the top of your head, the other arm resting by your hands, letting you grip into him as deeply as you needed to. 

“Shh. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” He mumbles. Soft words of Dutch come from his lips; you’re too far gone to understand his words in English, let alone his native language. 

“You- why did you come?” You sob, feeling another contraction wash over your stomach. You can’t help but sob out, overwhelmed by the physical pain of the baby, the emotional pain of Max after seeing him in the paddock with that girl. 

“I couldn’t leave the love of my life to meet our baby girl alone, could I?” He responds, leaning upwards to press a soft kiss to your cheek. He can taste the salt from your tears. He swore there and then, you’d never cry again. Not if he was around. You’d stay with him in the paddock, you and his baby girl. He’d make you laugh at every available opportunity. He’d shower you both in gifts; he’d give his girls everything they’d desire. If one day you decided to return to racing, he’d retire there and then to let you peruse his dream. 

“Okay, okay. We need to push.” The midwife insists, seeing the pain flush over your cheeks. Max is ­there, clasping your hands, running a palm across your cheek, promising that oh-so-soon, your baby girl would be here, she would be in your arms, you would be complete.

There’s a sharp scream from you, and then the tiniest cries from the end of the bed. 

She was here. Bloody, high pitch screams fill the room as the baby is placed onto your chest.

A wave of relief flushes over you, lying back into the cushions, sobbing in hysteria; your baby girl had been welcomed into the world. Max this time, can’t hold back his own tears, aiding the midwife in cutting the chord, eyes in awe as he watched the midwife gently rub a cloth against her soft skin. 

“She’s here.” You whisper, the midwife aiding you in wrapping your daughter in a pink blanket, her wails cooling down, eyes blinking up to her mother. The blue eyes, identical to those of her father. 

Her father in question had sat back in his chair, eyes transfixed on the bundle in your arms. What he isn’t expecting is for you to motion your own arms towards him, letting the man cradle his daughter. It’s so…natural. Your heart fills with adoration; how you could ever believe you hated this man was beyond you.

Eventually, the baby is placed into the cradle, deep in slumber. Max hasn’t moved from your side, one arm around your back, both of you transfixed onto the peacefully sleeping child. 

“She’s here.” Max repeats for the hundredth time, eyes still focused on the sweet girl. His head turns to you, there’s no better time to say it. “I’m sorry. For not telling you sooner. For not telling you how much I care about you.” He murmurs, hand finding yours, clasping them together. 

“Yeah?” You tease, running your free hand through his soft hair, feeling his head press into your touch. His touch subsides, leaning in ever so gently, pressing his lips to your own. It’s soft, it’s unexpected, but it feels so, so right. It’s only interrupted with the soft cries from your baby once again. 

“Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?” Max laughs, his moment being disrupted by the baby. You can only laugh as he stands up, scooping up the baby into his gentle grasp. 

9th August, 1:06am. This was the happiest day of your life. 

[jjenthusee]

A Broken Mug

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

a/n: i wrote this because of @janybabyy hilarious comments on my last angsty drabble. It made my morning and I wanted to also contribute some fluff as an apology lol (there also might be a little steamy scene if u squint) i love reading comments and reblogs so leave some if your comfortable ENJOY (also the angsty drabble is here)

tags: tons of fluff, shameless flirting

3.5k words

When Jason went out on patrol, you busied yourself filling the time with aimless activities and chores until he came home. You didn’t plan on trying to shift your sleep schedule with his reversed one, but with your lenient job and bad sleeping habits, nothing was really stopping you.

You got to see him come back from patrol and took naps on the couch together, so you didn’t see any problem with it. Tonight was also any other night that you were walking around the apartment getting any chores done.

Your usual weekly mop and washing your dishes at three in the morning was productive. Until you tried to see how many mugs you can try to carry from the drying mat to the cabinet, then you dropped two mugs.

An old shark mug that would be missed and Jason’s birthday mug you got him last year. You wished you could reverse time, but you stood there watching the mess you created.

Now with the broken pieces, a tube of super glue and your will, you sat on the floor studying how to put the mug back together. The rug in your living room doubled as your current operating table as you laid your supplies around the fragments of Jason’s previous birthday gift.

You had two hours to make it looked like nothing happen, not cry and figure out if you picked up all the pieces. Then apologize to Jason and promise to never pick up a mug again.

…

You looked at your finished handiwork, eyeing the glued ceramic pieces of Jason’s mug.

It looked bad. The glue had settled in some of the smaller pieces, but almost the entire tube was gone and you were out of options. Maybe some last finishing touches, but that wouldn’t fix the problem of it being broken in the first place and you weren’t sure if this was even safe to drink out of anymore. If it didn’t leak.

Now your boyfriend’s precious mug became the victim of your carelessness. The handle broke off completely and the rim had several chipped pieces. With a final attempt you managed to somehow pray that the handle fit and it did, but there were definitely pieces that didn’t fit that smoothly.

Luckily, when the mug fell it didn’t fall onto the floor like the other victim, but onto the kitchen counter. The impact could’ve been worse, but some higher understanding kept most of the mug still intact, but ceramic was fragile, so only so much could be held together against the force of gravity.

“Maybe he won’t notice?” You sighed defeatedly picking at the dried glue.

“Notice what?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Jason’s voice. You didn’t expect him to be casually standing near the window, standing tall behind you in full Red Hood gear.

You always did manage to forget about his stealth and agility. You nearly smacked him with a pan when you thought a burglar was in your kitchen when you first started dating. Good thing the flowers he brought with him were unharmed.

After closing the window, he slowly removed his leather jacket and gloves with visible exhaustion in his movements, relieved to remove a layer of his nightly outings.

“Welcome home.” You softly spoke, but a bit of strain crept into your voice at the realization that you didn’t clean your mess in time. You whipped your head back to your crime scene that sat in front of you.

Trying to act as naturally as possible, you capped the glue shut.

“Another night of being a handsome vigilante taking down kidnappers and stopping drug trafficking?” You teased as you shifted your body fully toward Jason, no doubt the slight hesitation in your voice giving you away, but you grabbed the tube of super glue, quickly shoving it in your sweatpants pocket as you spoke.

“Nah, only drug trafficking.” Jason lazily said, not paying direct attention to your awkward movements as he emptied his hidden arsenal of weapons off his body. “I made Roy handle the kidnappers.” A hint of amusement in his voice as he stretched his body, muscles contorting. The movement more visible with his jacket off.

“Only drug trafficking.” You tried mimicking him, giving a bad deep voice impression. You slid the mug closer to you, flush against your back so he wouldn’t see it from his angle.

Jason stopped in the middle of his post-patrol routine to look at you. His helmet tilting at you slightly, analyzing you.

Shit. He noticed something.

“Jay, my love, did you shine your helmet recently? It looks shiny and I couldn’t help but notice—“ Your voice quickly died as your gaze shifted from his red helmet down to his hands on his utility belt, lazily resting on the release latch. The look was…wow.

“Cleaner and polish.” Jason spoke slowly, clearly feeling smug under his helmet. He was all too familiar with that look in your eyes. You could practically see the smirk forming.

Click. The belt released as it fell loosely around his waist. Your mouth felt dry. You snapped yourself out of your thoughts.

You can eye-fuck him later, you wanted to hide the cup, but delaying your apology until tomorrow didn’t feel right.

Jason gave one last glance at you, then resumed his attention to his gear as he took the belt off.

“I was thinking we could eat something simple tonight…or morning? I guess it’ll technically be breakfast.” You shifted to get up, grabbing the cup along with you. Thankfully you were able to grab the handle while keeping your eyes on Jason, making sure it wasn’t entirely noticeable.

Jason removed his helmet, a puff of air releasing as he placed it on the dining table.

“Wanna cook something or pick up? It’s kinda limited since it’s early, but there’s always something open.” His voice was clearer, more defined without the modulator distorting it. A slight raspiness that poked at you.

Without the helmet, you could see Jason’s messy hair, matted in some places and fluffier in others, a slight stubble pricking his jaw and that sweet exhausted expression that made him mellow. Your heart raced every time you saw Jason’s face after a night of patrol.

You need to focus. You were getting distracted.

A distraction. That’s what you needed.

With the cup still held behind your back, you walked to Jason as he was placing his belt on the back of the dining chair. He didn’t expect the sudden closeness, but didn’t refrain from it. He looked more…curious than anything.

Jason watched as you reached for his face with your free hand. You didn’t fully extend your arm, purposefully leaving some distance that he would have to fill himself. Giving him the time to come to you.

Sometimes Jason needed time to adjust after a night of patrol, some days he wanted to come to you and other days you had to step in and make baby steps towards him, guiding him back to the domestic life he shared alongside you. Either way you waited and were willing to wait as long as he needed.

This was one of the moments you reached out first, asking to touch him. It was a quiet signal letting your hand hang in the air. Sometimes he held that hand or he let you caress his face. Despite how much you told him he didn’t have to follow it every time, he always did. Like telling you ‘no’ would end him.

Like a magnet, Jason lowered his face placing his cheek in your hand, placing a kiss inside of your palm.

Your heart raced as you watched his careful movements.

He moved his own hand over yours, intertwining your fingers together, but keeping your hand on his cheek. His skin was slightly cold, but he kept your hand in his and he rubbed his face on your palm trying to absorb your heat. It must’ve been freezing outside, maybe you need to get him some hand warmers to keep in his jacket, but a part of you also wanted him to use you to warm himself up.

You felt him sigh as his lips touched your skin. His eyes closed as he fully lost himself in the moment, it felt like he was giving you a silent ‘I missed you’ as he refused to move from you and you squeezed his hand, hopefully giving the message back.

As he breathed your scent in, you counted his eyelashes while you waited, refusing to disrupt his moment from decompressing from patrol. You loved seeing his face from this angle because you could see that some of his eyelashes were white like his hair. It wasn’t that prominent, but your heart fluttered that you were probably one of the only people to know.

Your thumb caressed the edge of his eye, watching him lean into your hand more.

Jason’s eyes opened, barely enough to gaze at you, but you wouldn’t miss the devotion that sat in his eyes. He trusted you and is willing to give himself to you, to let you touch him. To ruin him, if you desired.

“Jay…” You breathlessly spoke into the intimacy pulling at you.

Jason stayed still, waiting for permission, for you to lead him in whatever direction you wanted. All of his resolve focused on what you desired. He was hesitant to even breathe too hard, if it meant you would move away.

You carefully leaned into him, mindful to not touch him more than you already were. Moving your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck. Pushing your fingers through the edges of his hair, his labored breathing on your lips as you hovered over his mouth, just near enough to touch his lips if you spoke.

You wanted his full attention.

You couldn’t tell if you tugged him first or he leaned in, but you were too lost in the kiss to care. You started with a gentle touch, but once Jason angled his face to bring your body closer to him, it felt like he wanted to engulf you.

You felt his fingers slowly itch onto your waist, playing with the fabric of your shirt. You flinched, surprised at the sudden, but welcomed touch. You moved your hand holding the cup—you forgot about the mug!

Luckily, your realization went unnoticed by Jason. He pressed into you, leaning your neck further back to adjust to his height. The new development let a sound reach his throat, but with your bodies this close, you could feel the murmur. Your stomach fluttered.

Before his hands could move toward your back, you maneuvered your arm still holding onto the cup to avoid getting tangled. You laid your arm on his shoulder, holding the mug by its handle, careful to not let the mug touch him, letting him get even closer.

The movement allowed him to breathe onto your mouth, lost in your contact. It made your stomach warm at the sound.

Your mind went blank and you instinctively followed the movements of the man in front of you. You lead him to this point, but with the permission you gave him, he followed his desires. You wanted him to want more, he barely asks for things and he deserved to be spoiled.

His hands found the edge of your shirt, placing his cold hands underneath onto your bare waist, rubbing the skin with his thumbs.

You shuddered. He watched the tremor in your body, resting his nose next to yours. Dwelling in intimacy and shaky breaths.

Once his hands started to warm against your heated skin, you looked up to him. Watching his reddened skin. Maybe you can mention the mug now.

“Jay…I broke—“

Jason was too infatuated with the moment and holding you in his embrace that he didn’t comprehend anything you were saying. He took advantage of your mouth opening to deepen the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, to keep yourself from falling and to somehow find a way to merge your body with his.

You took a sudden breath, releasing yourself from Jason’s mouth. A sudden…hunger in his eyes as he watched you breathe. You gripped onto the handle of the mug and Jason’s broad shoulder, overwhelmed by the combination of Jason’s touch, breathing and look.

He must’ve not felt any different as he nipped at your jaw, using his hand to cup your neck and angle your face up to give him more access.

“Jay—“ You breathlessly pleaded.

Clink.

The handle of the mug broke off, leaving the handle in your hand and the rest of the cup bouncing off of Jason’s back and shattering on the floor.

Both of your movements stop as Jason shoves you behind him, shielding you from the imaginary attacker.

You could only see the back of his shoulders and his flushed ears peaking out as you looked at the broken handle still in your hand.

“Jay…it’s fine.” You tapped his shoulder to point to the cup broken on the ground. “It’s my fault.”

“Wha?” Jason asked, still breathless as he was ready in attack mode.

“I was trying to tell you, but I—got distracted.” You cleared your throat.

Jason leaned down taking some of the broken pieces near his boot in his hands. Recognizing the fragments once he got a closer look.

“I’m sorry. I tried to fix it, but then I guess super glue isn’t as reliable as I thought—“

“Sweetheart—“ Jason soothed as he stood up.

“Then I forgot about the time and you came back before I could figure out what to do. I can buy you a new one—“

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He placed his hand under your chin, grabbing your attention. “It’s really alright.”

“But look at it.” You defeatedly gestured to the broken handle still clutched in your hand.

Jason could only laugh watching his partner sadly show him the aftermath of their handiwork, his full set of teeth visible, giving him the cute boyish look you loved.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s really okay.” He grabbed the handle out of your hands. “I’m glad you didn’t cut yourself from the broken pieces, but we don’t need to fix it.”

He had a smirk on his face.

“Especially with super glue.”

“Hey! I had to use what we had in the drawers.” You puffed.

He placed the pieces on the counter. Carefully moving you to the couch, so you don’t step on any sharp pieces. Cleaning up the mess of his cup.

You silently watched, making you feel worse. Jay noticed your sullen look and consoled you as he swept up any left over pieces.

“I have shoes on still and your in your socks, I just want to make sure it’s safe.”

You frowned further.

A small tender smile spread across his face as he properly disposed of the remaining pieces and walked over to the couch. Your eyes followed his form as he kneeled in front of you, making him sit just below your eye level with your legs in between his, gently taking your hands in his as he methodically rubbed your skin with his thumb. His hands were warm now, probably from your earlier…activity.

“My love, it’s okay. We can replace it or get an entirely new one.”

“But it was a matching set.” You rubbed his hands back.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t choose a new set.” You looked up from both of your hands to his gentle gaze, filled with so much warmth and understanding. “I’ve been meaning to take us to that new pottery place you talked about. We can each make a mug, okay, sweetheart?”

You brought his hands to your lips, gently placing a kiss on his rough hands. A mesmerizing hum left Jason’s mouth.

“Can you make one for me and can I make one for you?” You quietly asked.

Jason laughed, the cute smile poking through again.

“I would love that.”

Maybe breaking Jason’s mug wasn’t so bad after all.

…

Your date to the pottery place was even better than you expected. You got to try something new, Jason made a few cheesy Ghost pottery scene jokes that the instructor probably heard too often and you got to watch Jason’s hands intricately make your brand new mug.

You were internally thanking your clumsiness for breaking his cup earlier in the week and blessing you with the scene of your boyfriend’s biceps. You wish you could brand the memory into your eyes.

Now you tried to concentrate as you painted Jason’s mug. You both decided on painting things about the other person onto the cup, a completely unique design.

You managed to decide on an overall simple red color (surprising, I know), paint a wonder woman emblem and a simplified doodle of Jason’s face. It was your proudest work.

You even snuck in a clumsily written “I love you” with a tiny Red Hood doodle at the bottom of the inside of the cup. A cheesy surprise for him.

“I don’t think I’m made for the arts.” Jason carefully held the paint brush in his hands.

“Don’t say that, your mug shape looks better than mine. Sorry that I made yours a little wonky.” You looked at the slightly slanted rim of the mug.

“I love wonky. You know me so well.” He playfully flirted.

You chuckled at your love-struck boyfriend. You could have given him a ball of clay and he would’ve proudly kept it on his nightstand. You just rolled your eyes at him, knowingly that you also didn’t care if Jason bought a plain cup and handed it to you. You would love it all the same.

A small quiet silence, both lost in your individual masterpieces. You looked up to watch Jay, who concentrated with furrowed brows, trying to add his iconic red bat symbol to your cup. When you noticed he also painted a couple cracks around the handle, clearly digging at the broken handle you religiously held onto earlier that week.

“You’re never going to let that down.” You sighed.

“Huh?”

You pointed at the handle, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Of course, sweetheart, I wish I could’ve gotten a picture of how sad you looked. I would’ve made it my wallpaper.” He chuckled.

“Don’t make fun of me, I was really nervous about telling you. And I lost a pair of sweats because the super glue decided to permanently close my pocket.”

“I’m not, I thought it was cute.” He looked up from your mug. “Besides I already saw it when I crawled into the apartment.”

“What!?” You almost shouted. “What do you mean? You knew?”

“I didn’t know anything, just saw it, but you gave yourself away after you called me ‘my love’ and then I just wanted to see what you were planning.” He finished painting the outline of his iconic bat symbol. “You always call me that when you’re up to something.”

“That’s embarrassing.” You put your paint brush on the table, attempting to cover your flushed face with the back of your hand, careful to not put any paint on your face. “I thought I managed to get past you, but I guess making out doesn’t really count as a distraction.”

“Oh, no, I was distracted, so I guess your plan worked.” He placed his finished work on the table. “But, you’ll have to try harder next time, my love.”

He was getting too cocky now.

“If I tried harder, you would have a hard time getting up in the morning, my love.” You teased.

Jason’s eyes widened. A second to process what you said, then a brazen look in his eye appeared.

“What if that’s my plan all along, my love?” He shamelessly asked.

You leaned in closer to Jason’s side, hiding your voice away from the other customers in the shop.

“One of us isn’t going to be able to walk and it won’t be me.” You joked, both of you laughing at one another. You moved away from Jason. “I think we better stop before we get kicked out, your Ghost jokes earlier already have us on the instructor’s last straw. If it’s not cringy jokes, we’ll be kicked out for indecency.”

“There goes my plans of making out next to the kiln.” Jason shook his head. “I guess it would be bad if we couldn’t pick up our mugs later.”

Your eyes widened at your boyfriends hidden plans. A small twinkle of mischievousness in his eyes.

“We have to change up our make out spots once in a while, can’t let them catch on.” You playfully nudged his arm.

Jason smiled and brought your hands up to his mouth, a small kiss on your knuckles that were covered in paint.

A flutter inched in your stomach at the brief contact.

“Then we should schedule a knitting class tomorrow.”

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Late Jason birthday fic!!!!

MDNI

warnings: jason devouring reader's poosay

You and Jason have been dating just under a year. And today was the first time celebrating with him the day he dreaded the most. His birthday.

If he HAD to celebrate it with his family, he'd want a small get-together, sharing his special day with Alfred.

NOT this damn gala that Bruce organised, seemingly just to spite him. Bruce excused that it was mainly for Alfred, but since they shared the special day, Jason had to be there, too. Now Jason feared the most; being surrounded by rich assholes, half-heartedly wishing him a happy birthday.

But you seemed excited to finally celebrate his birthday with him, and seeing you so eager made Jason's heart swell. He's just gonna have to suck it up and put on his big boy pants and go.

"You ready, baby?" Jason asked, coming into your room. The second he sees you in that damn black dress, complimented with red, he thinks he's lost it. He couldn't even take his eyes off the long slit of the dress that revealed a glimpse of your thigh. If you didn't answer him, he'd think he'd forget how to breathe because, oh, how you were breathtaking.

"Mhm, let me just put my shoes on." You say, taking his arm and leading him to the front door where your black heels with red outsoles laid.

"Is you being all dolled up my birthday present, sweetness?" Jason asked, a sly smirk on his face as he holds onto your waist, helping you balance as you put your heels on.

You chuckled. "It can be if you want it to be. But my actual present for you will be given later." You said, kissing his cheek. "C'mon, let's go."

Jason leads you to his car, and on the drive to the manor, it takes all his willpower not to let his hand that laid on your thigh sneak under the slit and inch up higher.

You held onto Jason arm as he led you into the manor. You expected big, but god, everything and everyone looked so extravagant.

You caught a glimpse of Alfred standing near Bruce and your eyes light up.

"C'mon, Jay!" You said excitedly, tugging him towards where the two men were standing. Jason groans, knowing he'd have to talk to Bruce, but on the other hand, he does want to wish his grandfather a hapoy birthday.

"Happy birthday, Alfie!" You exclaimed, giving the old man a hug before giving him a little bag that contained your gift for him.

He thanks you, telling you that you didn't have ti, but highly appreciates the sentiment. Jason offers a small smile and a quiet, happy birthday before giving him a hug.

"Glad you can come, Jason." Bruce said with a satisfied smile.

"I didn't come here because you told me to or because I felt like it." Jason huffs, looking away.

"Many people have been expecting you." Alfred said.

"And they have gifts." Bruce added. "I expect you to behave. But I don't doubt that she will keep you in check." He said, nodding towards you. You snickered in response while Jason just rolled his eyes, taking your hand, pulling you away from them.

You stayed beside Jason, watching as he uncomfortably mingled with the party guests, giving him his birthday presents.

It started fine. Totally fine. It was nice seeing Jason receiving such nice gifts.

But the more you witnessed him opening the presents, the more self-conscious you got about the gift you have yet to give him.

His given presents consisted of gold cufflinks, finest champagne, designer clothing, luxury cologne, fancy watches, and so much more. You couldn't even think about how much these things could've cost.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jason murmurs, whispering in your ear as he tilts your chin up to look at him. You were so lost in thought, you didn't even realise Jason was complaining to you how much he wanted to go home.

You nodded with a small smile. "Mhm. Little overwhelmed, I guess." You said, clinging onto his arm.

"Maybe another hour, ma. Then we can go home." He assured you, kissing your forhead.

And it does assure you. He loves you. And he'd love the gift you have in store for him. But still. You're unable to scratch the utch in your head from all the expensive gifts he's receiving.

You sighed, kicking your shoes off, flopping back onto the bed once the two of you returned home. Following Jason around and watching him open gifts can be exhausting.

Jason shrugs his jacket off, throwing it somewhere on the floor, lying beside you. "So. You gonna give me a gift now or continue to keep me on my toes?" He asked with a grin.

You fidget with your hands, picking at your cuticles. "Mm.. can you wait til tomorrow?" You said sheepishly. Maybe you can wake up before him and rush out to the nearest jewellers and get him a nice watch or something.

His brows pinch together with concern, watching the dejected look on your face. He props himself up on one of his elbows, his fave looming over yours.

"What's with the sour look, sour puss?" He teases, poking your nose. "What's wrong?"

You sighed, looking at him. "Nothing. Just tired." You muttered.

"Bullshit.." He murmured, lowering himself down to nuzzle his nose against your jaw, his lips just barely grazing your skin.

You lightly groan. "You got really nice gifts." You said with embarrassment.

He pulls away, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Wanna elaborate, sweet thing?"

You whined with frustration, rubbing your hands over your face. "All your gifts were just so... lavish. Just wait til tomorrow, I can get a better gift."

"Baby." Jason said firmly. "Let me see your gift."

You frowned, knowing he'd pry and pry until he saw your gift. You grumbled, getting uo to reach underneath your bed, pulling out a small decorative paper bag, handing it to him.

Jason carefully took it, like he was scared that his big, rough hands would break the delicate material. He opened the bag, digging through the red shredded tissue paper.

His eyes slightly widened as he pulled out a bookmark. It had a thin gold frame, the bookmark itself having a coloured silhouette of what looked like you and Jason, and in intricate writing, the quote "you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you," written above the silhouettes.

"Holy shit..." Jason whispered as his fingers traced the fragile details of the gold frame.

You grumbled, not even wanting to think what he thought of it. "Jay, I promise I'll get you a better gif—"

"No!" He suddenly said, bringing the bookmark close to his chest. "I love this..." He whispered, staring at you with a wide grin.

"What? Really? It was only like 30 bucks.." You muttered, looking down at your lap.

He scoffed. "So? Who cares?"

"What!? But.. all your other presents—"

"Were shallow and thoughtless and were from snobby assholes who don't even know my name." He interrupted, carefully placing his bookmark on the nightstand before gently cupping your cheek. "But this gift, the one you're so worked up about..." He carefully pulls you on his lap. "Is the best I've received tonight." He kissed your forhead. "My favourite gift." He kissed your nose. "From my favourite girl." He kissed your lips.

You frowned. "But still!" You whined. But he shuts you up with another kiss.

"Not still.." He muttered against your lips. You hated the effect he had on you. You couldn't even argue as you melted against him, your hands lacing together behind his neck.

One of his hands gripped your hip as the other slid up your thigh, through the slit of your dress, just like he wanted to do all night.

Before going further, he laid you on the bed, his hands at either side of your face as he hovered over you.

He leaned down, lips attached to yours once more. This time, it was more sloppy and desperate, your hands pawing at his chest, fiddling with his buttons.

He helped you take his shirt off, throwing it over where his jacket laid as he travelled from your lips down to your jaw, immediately sucking on your sweet spot. You reach up to his hair, tugging it slightly as he groaned, his hips rolling down against yours.

"Fuck.." He muttered, his hands scrunching up the fabric of your dress in his fists. Being the feral man he is, he ripped your dress, the cool breeze nippng your skin making you gasp.

"Jay!" You squealed.

"Shh, I'll buy you another one.." He discarded the ripped dress with the other clothing on the floor.

"Up." He said, hands slithering under your back. You leaned up, letting him unclasp your bra. He cursed, his lips already around your nipple as you moaned, feeling his tongue swirl around it as his other hand was busy massaging your other breast.

"Fuck, sweetheart.." He groaned, his hands continuing to squeeze your chest as he trailed furthed down your body.

He stopped at your clothed core, your panties already soaked. He stretched the lace, letting go, making the elastic snap against your skin. You flinched at the feeling, your face heating up.

Jason gave the damp spot a soft kiss before ripping your underwear off, throwing it behind him. "I like this birthday present too..." He muttered, kissing your inner thigh.

"Jay, please.." You whimpered, bucking your hips up.

"Shh.. patience. Let me enjoy my birthday meal, hm?" He said, lips inching closer to your aching cunt.

"Jay.. Jay, I— Ah!" With no warning, his mouth dived inti your pussy, licking up the dripping precum like a man starved.

"Fuck, ma.." He grunted. You whimpered, your legs shaking, feeling his tongue lap over your folds and his stubble scratching your skin. "Tastes so good..."

You pull his hair, mixed sounds of your whines and squeals together with his tongue buried in your wet cunt filling the room.

You felt your core burning up, and your stomach twisting in knots while your legs shook. You chanted his name like a mantra, your head thrown back into they pillow, back arched, and your hips lifted uo further in his face as you came. Your eyes were shut tight, and you swore you saw stars.

You panted as Jason licked you clean, and when your eyes opened, there were black dots everywhere. Even looking down, seeing Jason's face stuffed between your legs made you feel like cumming again.

Jason hummed, crawling back up, kissing your lips as you tasted yourself.

"Now.." He flipped you two over, so you were straddling his lap. "I know you have another gift for me.." He said as whined, feeling his hard buldge beneath his pants.

okay. lowkey not satisfied with the way i write this but ermmmm... hope yous like it!!!