#a few look like him though and those ones are great

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 6.8k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, pining, jealous toji, more blood as a metaphor for love, we getting a little suggestive with this one, nothing too smutty but toji does have a few questionable thoughts, he's lowkey tweaking out

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: i'll be so honest i had the first half of this chapter written since like september but i got stuck with the second half. unfortunately i hit a wall with this series but now i'm back on track!! updates will probably still be slower just bc this semester is looking rough and i'm graduating but !! i have a lot planned for wolf toji dw :33 as always i'd recommend reading the previous parts before this one !!

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you have a date tonight.

even though you've said it's just a casual get together, toji knows it's a date. he can smell the giddiness rolling off of you as you bounce around your apartment trying to get ready, his eyes following your every move.

"so how long will you be out for this date?" he questions, trying to keep his voice even and casual as he leans against the doorframe of your bedroom. you're standing in front of your mirror, fixing your hair with a critical eye, and embarrassingly enough, toji can't look away.

"it's not a date," you stress with a quiet laugh, eyes sparkling with amusement. "and i should be back around eleven hopefully."

well at least you plan to come home.

(to him.)

toji lets his head rest against the wall, pursing his lips to bite back the snarkiness he wants to express. "well what am i supposed to do while you're gone?"

"i don't know, whatever you want." you grin at him through the mirror, teasing. "do wolf hybrids howl at the mailman?"

he snorts in return, crossing his bulky arms over his chest with a wry smirk. "'m not a dog."

"sure you aren't." you turn around to face him fully, gesturing to yourself with a tilt of your head. "this look okay?"

he bites back a sigh. toji isn't great with words, but he would love to tell you that you're quite literally the most attractive human he's ever met. his jade eyes travel over your figure, ignoring the instinctual rise of jealousy that is swimming in his gut because some other asshole gets to see you like this—all dolled up and pretty like you've dropped from the heavens.

which, to toji, you have. a guardian angel sent just for him.

"looks great," he mutters, nodding once at your ensemble. though he's sure you could make even the ugliest clothing look like perfection. you beam at him, grabbing your coat before bounding over to him.

"thanks toji!" you say his name with an absurd amount of sweetness, reaching up to poke your finger into his cheek. he rolls his eyes, making a show of playfully snapping his canines at your hand. a peal of laughter rips from your throat as you retract, and his ears flick at the sound, pleased. he has the strongest urge to squeeze you into his very being—all consuming.

toji follows you to the door, watching you pick up the house keys and slipping on your shoes as you ramble to him. "there's meat in the fridge and some leftover rice if you want it. oh and i bought those juices you said you liked—"

a fucking angel.

"—so make sure you eat well, okay?" you look at him imploringly, and toji inhales sharply. god he wants to wrap you up tight and keep you with him for the rest of eternity. but instead he's stuck like this, watching you go out to meet some other man while he aimlessly prowls your empty apartment. it's bad enough that the whole space reminds him of you—your scent heavy and sweet around him. but being stuck in your house without you there? that's another struggle all together.

toji didn't even mean for this to happen. god knows he's had enough of trusting humans for a lifetime, because all they can be are cruel and selfish and greedy.

so when you and him came face to face in that alleyway, all he wanted to do was scare you off and keep to himself—the only person he knows he can rely on. but of course, you are as stubborn as you are sweet. maybe that's why toji feels the strange need to always have you in his sight, to always feel you near him.

you're too good for this world, and he would rather gut himself than let anyone touch you.

so that incessant thumping against his ribcage and the swooping in his stomach that only happens when you look at him? that's just protective instinct—a way to repay you for taking pity on an animal like him.

it has nothing to do with feelings. he definitely does not crack a wry smile when you both share a meal. he definitely does not feel a surge of affection when he realizes that you've gone out of your way for him again. he definitely does not allow his tail to wag back and forth when you're excited or happy around him. he definitely does not mask his satisfaction behind a grumpy scowl when you reach up and scratch behind his pointed ears.

definitely not.

besides, toji needs to pull himself together. because if he cares about you even a little bit, he'll keep his distance. he doesn't want to be known as the animal who came and ruined your life.

he's sure you've told all of your friends and coworkers about him—the wolf hybrid you've allowed into your home. he supposes he should be grateful that you haven't been treating him the way most humans do—like a pet. no you've given him more freedom than he knows what to do with, and he's sure that your brain isn't even wired to see him in any other way than as an equal.

like he said, you're too fucking sweet for this world.

but toji knows that everyone around you probably sees him the way hybrids are supposed to be seen, and that's why nobody sees him as a threat. but toji can't deny the insane desire to be viewed as a threat. as a competitor—one that would gladly run in the race for your affection.

(but that's delusional. he knows that people would talk, would frown as you pass by. because you've crossed a line that society deems as dirty—wrong. he isn't worried about what people would say about him. no he doesn't give a shit about that. but the idea of anyone badmouthing you makes his stomach churn and anger spike.

so no. he could never do that to you. he cannot ruin you like that. to turn himself into the scum that took advantage of a poor little human.)

"yeah yeah," he waves you off, clearing his throat. he doesn't like that his brain goes to these thoughts so often these days. "get out of here now."

you stick your tongue out again, reaching for the door. "it's my house thank you very much!"

the wind is biting as it hits toji's skin, and it serves as a cruel wake up call to his reality. that there is no circumstances where you'd be going out to meet him in a situation like this. where he is the one on the receiving end of your sweet love and adoration. he approaches to lock the door behind you, lips slanted. just as you're stepping out, you reach a hand up. he stiffens as your fingers gently scratch behind his pointed ears, so very gently. a pleasant chill climbs up his spine, tickles his very nerve endings.

(he thinks he could die peacefully just laying his head in your lap and letting your fingers gently scratch at his ears.)

toji doesn't remember when you started feeling so comfortable touching him. he can't remember the moment he started feeling comfortable touching you. but if he racks his brain far back enough he can remember that strange sense of longing he started feeling when looking at you. can remember the instances where he'd push your face away when you got too close, heat crawling up his neck.

he holds back a shiver, steeling his expression into his normal unamused stare. yet he feels like his affection for you might be obvious if you looked too deeply into his eyes. you retract your hand with a grin, unperturbed by his moodiness. "i'll be back soon."

"you better…" he mumbles quietly. before he can stop himself, he's reaching up and placing his palm on your head, just like he did all those weeks ago. sure enough he can see the slivers of embarrassment creep into your expression, the subtle dip of your lashes and quirk of your lips. he had quickly realized how truly addicting this expression was to him—almost drug-like. he had chased after it shamelessly since then.

you give him a look, a semi pursed smile, and then leave him. he watches you until you disappear down the street, and he feels his mood sour further. he doesn't like how much influence your presence has on him. when he shuts the door behind him and is only met with the silence of your empty apartment, he starts to feel restless.

toji is no idiot. he knows that he is gradually beginning to care for you. he knows that he has already melted far more than he should've. but you're sneaky, managing to worm your way into the coldest corners and crevices and light a fire there.

but he hates that. he hates that he has even allowed his brain the luxury to think of you in that way. a rational mind has always been something he has been able to brag about, but somehow he finds that it fails him when you're around.

it takes about twenty minutes in your empty apartment for toji to feel like he's going stir crazy. he's not unaccustomed to you being away—but the idea that you're out with someone else just makes him feel irritated. he sighs, grabbing a jacket and slipping on his shoes. he picks up his set of keys from the bowl by the door before heading out into the cold. he doesn't really know where he's going, but he knows that he can't sit in your apartment for the next couple hours.

(not in this space that constantly reminds him of you. the space that is heavy with the scent that clings to your body and invades his senses late at night. drives him up the wall with restless need and longing in his muscles that he has not felt in a long time.)

the streets are brightly lit, and toji pulls his hood over his head before shoving his hands into his pockets. keeps his eyes on the ground because there is still that sting of paranoia that his past will come back to haunt him. honestly he would've been fine living with only himself to rely on. but the universe must have truly been praying on his downfall, because here he is—the oh so terrifying and feared wolf of the underground, being worried about something as silly as a damn crush.

he'd figured that this brief wave of attraction he felt towards you would disappear easily. in fact, all he planned on doing was taking advantage of your blatant kindness and open mindset towards hybrids. eat your food and gain some strength before moving on to the next city and becoming nothing more than a stranger who once dipped into your life. but no, you and your stupid smile had practically invited him in, open arms and generous comfort that made him feel sick to his stomach for even considering taking advantage of you.

that's the most frustrating part—your dumb sweetness makes it impossible for him to hurt you.

even now, when he feels this unreasonable sense of betrayal at the thought of you being out with some other man, he doesn't have it in him to be angry at you. of course toji isn't stupid. he isn't delusional enough to believe that he has any right to be angry about such a thing. you're perfection embodied in human form—he'd be an idiot to think that nobody else in the world would look at you the way he does. and he knows that they'd probably be better suited for you.

(what, as a washed up bitter old wolf hybrid, does he have to offer you?)

so yes, he's trying to convince himself that this is good enough. being able to share your space and take up a corner in your life. to hear your thoughts and hear his name fall from your lips.

his feet carry him forward without having a destination in mind. he briefly thinks that maybe he'll go to that one little restaurant where you often get takeout and bring some back for you. he's sure you'll eat on the date, but he's thinking about doing it anyway. a gruff smirk worms its way onto his face when he thinks about how you'll chide him for being buying food even though there were leftovers at home. you're so easy for him to read and that makes him ridiculously happy.

"toji?"

he freezes, brow twitching. bile instinctually rises in his throat, and he feels his hackles rising. his ears stiffen, claws lengthen, and he feels as though the hair on his body has stood on edge. it takes every bit of willpower to not bolt down the street, right back to your apartment. instead he can only stiffly turn around, teeth gritted as he comes face to face with his grandfather.

the old man's eyes are narrowed, but otherwise he shows no emotion. "so this is where you've been."

toji purses his lips, mind spinning with a thousand different ways to get out of this situation. he's screwed, royally. "i've been all over."

"it's been months. don't you think your little vacation is up now?"

"fuck off," toji snarls. his anger spikes so fast even he finds it a little unreasonable.

naobito lets out a boisterous laugh—grating and sharp. "how can i turn a blind eye when my damn investment is running around in the streets?"

"well you shoulda kept a better eye on me, huh old man?" toji snarls. he feels more threatened than ever before. his body is overwhelmed with a thousand different emotions. the horror of being caught and maybe being thrown back underground. the disgust at seeing the man he hates most in the world.

the pure unadulterated fear that consumes him when he thinks that he might never see you again.

he won't do it. he'll die before being dragged away once more.

"oh you're so entertaining toji." naobito pulls out his phone, the light from the screen illuminating his face in a way that makes him look strangely terrifying. "enough games. you've had your fun."

toji's lunging before he even realizes it, the growl that tears through his throat sounding almost feral. his right hand snakes around naobito's throat, and it takes all his willpower to not crush the man's windpipe between his fingers. his other hand is ready to strike, claws sharp and glinting in the moonlight. the old man's eyes go wide for a second, but then they narrow, and despite the difficulty, his lips stretch into an oily smile.

"you won't do it…" he chokes out, strained and painful. toji's palm tightens further, eliciting a wheeze from the old man. "you know what they'll do to you."

toji honestly doesn't care. in his mind, being put down wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if it means killing this bastard once and for all. but then he has a thought, and it all comes crashing down.

you.

he thinks of you and your sweet smile and welcoming arms and everything suddenly stops. because by chance if this fucker finds out about you, everything is over. toji's mind races. thoughts of his grandfather's men coming after him and finding you instead, punishing you for taking in the animal that so clearly didn't belong to you. ice floods his veins—chilling and jarring.

his grip loosens, and then he's backing away slowly. the goosebumps on his arms are almost painful, and he can feel his pulse thudding against his jugular as naobito stands and straightens his clothes. the old man clears his throat. "you can run all you want. you know they'll find you."

"i'll take that risk." toji wants to go. never in his life has he felt so inclined to run. he takes another step back, and naobito raises his phone again.

"do it," toji grits out, flashing his lengthened claws. the old man's eyes catch the movement, and even though his expression remains neutral, toji can smell the hesitation spiking as he stills. "i dare you."

"you even touch me and they'll lock you up for good," naobito spits. "maybe even put you down."

"well that's fine with me as long as i've ripped you to shreds." toji licks his teeth, eyes narrowed. "shame that brat naoya isn't here with you. i would've broken his neck too."

naobito lets out a mirthless laugh, but he doesn't make any more advancements. toji takes another step back, snarling. his grandfather crosses his arms, tilting his head with an amused smile. "you do all this drama, but you know you'll go back there on your own."

toji barks out a laugh, though it is strained with anger. "oh yeah? how come?"

naobito's smile becomes chilling as his voice drops. "because it's in you, toji. you're nothing but a rabid animal, and you'll crave blood soon enough."

toji's skin prickles. nausea churns his guts, and all he can manage to spit out is a growled "fuck you," before he's turning around and running. thankfully, the darkness of the night acts like a blanket—covers up his footsteps until he's sure he's far enough. for once he thanks the heavens for his animalistic traits; the speed with which his feet carry him is almost superhuman. he wonders if his damn grandfather is calling all the people he knows, sending them after him. but another part wonders if naobito is so psychotic that he would wait for toji to come crawling back.

both options are ridiculously plausible.

toji stops and thinks that maybe he shouldn't go back to your house. he could be leading his past right to your doorstep. but then he realizes there is no other place in the world where he is more safe, and then he's speeding up again. when he reaches your apartment, he hides in the shadows for ten minutes waiting to see if he's being followed. when he deems it safe, he quietly unlocks your door and slips inside.

the apartment is just as he left it, and toji finally releases a shaky breath. his heartbeat feels erratic, and he didn't even realize that he'd been biting his lip so hard, only now tasting the metallic flavor of his own blood.

(he ignores how easily his tense muscles seem to relax when your scent invades his senses once more.)

toji flops onto the couch unceremoniously, rubbing at his brow bones. what are the odds that he'd run into his damn grandfather in the streets and still be a free man? toji always figured that if he ever saw the old bastard again, he'd find himself either dead or back underground. after all, naobito zenin has always cared so deeply about his number one investment.

now the only thing on toji's mind is the fact that he might be putting you in danger. you and the sweet life you've so carefully built. the life that you shared with him so willingly—open arms and all. what right did he have to bring threats to that comfort and stability? you've been so good to him, and what has he done to repay that except constantly put you in tough situations?

he thinks that maybe meeting him in that alley was the worst thing that could've happened to you.

there is a dull throbbing that has settled between his brows, and toji puts his face in his palms, exhaling heavily. he wishes that you were here. wishes that you would open the front door and chatter away to your heart's content. wishes that you'd easily forget that fool who's taking you out tonight and look toji's way instead. wishes that you'd sit next to him on the couch and let the warmth of your arm bleed into his skin.

(he doesn't mind hearing you talk. your voice has a lovely timbre to it, not too harsh and not too grating. he thinks that the waves of your laugh would soothe the pain in his head very quickly.

he doesn't like that there's someone else. he knows it has nothing to do with you—after all you deserve someone who treats you well. someone who can lay the world at your feet even before you ask. and he understands that he is not that person and will never be that person so long as ears sprout atop his head and his teeth are elongated and sharp.

he is irked by the craving for warmth he has developed. he wonders why he doesn't miss his solitude. instead the empty space feels awfully full when you're around—not suffocating, just full. he thinks he wouldn't mind sharing that space with you for a long time.)

toji's fingers twitch in irritation, and he flops back, draping across your couch. his eyes conjure up floating patterns against your ceiling, and he cannot blink them away no matter how hard he tries. it is a struggle to dispel these thoughts—the oh so valiant fighter losing a battle as simple as this. it's almost laughable.

there is a sour taste in toji's mouth because he knows what this is. that damn feeling that everyone raves about. the one people are willing to do anything for. a blessing, a curse. able to make life worth living and yet wars were fought over it.

something he never deserved.

if he had common sense, he'd leave well enough alone. it's bad enough that he feels indebted to you, but bringing any other feelings into whatever arrangement you both seemed to have feels almost self-destructive. especially because he'd be the last person on earth to have a chance anyway.

he does not know why that conclusion feels so damn prickly.

toji sits up straight, eyes burning holes into the armrest of your couch. then he reaches over, grabs the tv remote, and turns the tv on to some random show. then hits the volume button more times than he probably should. he can't help it—the silence in your apartment is deafening.

another less than graceful flop back into the heat of your couch. heavy eyes bore into the ceiling once more. if he strains hard enough, toji can imagine your reactions to the dialogues coming from the tv. his lips pull up to the side, wry and somewhat wistful.

he's pushing his luck. you should really send someone to get rid of him. he's gotten too full of himself, thinking that he knows you so well.

toji thinks that if he focuses hard enough, he can find remnants of you in the couch's fibers. sweet shampoo, detergent, faint traces of curry, and the hints of your natural scent that pushes through all the artificial ones.

toji's eyes go unfocused the more attention he pays to that scent. invading his senses and pulling fatigue away from the sinews of his muscles like it's easy. behind his eyelids, his mind is able to conjure up an image of you—and he's honestly surprised at how detailed it is.

you've managed to fully consume him now.

(all that talk of sinking his claws into you when he hadn't even realized you'd gotten to him first.

soft, untouched fingers gently curling around beating muscle and tissue. sweet caresses of blood-filled chambers, honey slipping through the valves. addictive, drug-like. a shot of adrenaline.

one squeeze of your fingers and he'd bleed all over the place.)

toji inhales sharply. before he's even fully awake, scents are invading his nose. the bus, sweet shampoo, olive oil, pungent cologne.

he finds you. his shoulders relax. the door clicks open, your unique footsteps quietly pressing against the hardwood. toji suddenly feels all too weary, throwing a heavy arm across his face because he's still trying to remember what he was dreaming about—grasping at straws.

"you asleep?" your voice is quiet, probably out of consideration in case he really was sleeping. his ears flick at the sounds of your coat being pulled off.

"no," he responds—groggy. he doesn't make an effort to move, staring at the same ceiling he fell asleep looking at. your smile is etched behind his eyelids.

"good," you chirp. he hears the drop of your keys into the bowl. your footsteps get louder. "i brought food back."

a noncommittal grunt in return, and your laugh is almost breathless. your face makes its way into his line of sight. half smile almost wry, you bend over the back of the couch and study his expression.

the spark in your eye is lively, almost vivacious. it sends adrenaline through toji's veins almost instantaneously. he can't see the ceiling anymore, your face obscuring it perfectly. he watches your hair fall with the weight of gravity, studies it like it's a necessity.

beautiful, he wants to say. but he doesn't know how to articulate that word aloud. so it remains hidden in the backlogs of his brain that never see the light of day.

"did you already eat?" you ask, and he shakes his head no. he doesn't mention his failed attempt at going to bring you takeout. screw his damn grandfather.

he sits up straight, and you walk around the couch and take a seat next to him. "how come? you aren't hungry?"

"not really," he mutters, shutting his eyes. that throbbing between his brows has returned. when he glances at you from the corner of his eye, you're giving him a look that is comically skeptical.

"you're not?" your voice goes dramatically worried, and you lean over and press a palm to his forehead like it's the end of the world. "toji not being hungry? what, are you sick?"

he snorts out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, reaching up to tug at your wrist with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "don't be ridiculous. you're so dramatic."

you grin, watching him stand up and pop his joints with a groan. toji glances at you for a split second. the hair on the back of his neck stands, a chill running down his spine. he feels like someone is chasing him, getting closer and closer with outreached claws. claws that would crush you almost easily—like paper. he swallows, glancing over his shoulder to peek out your window.

darkness is all he's greeted with.

toji sighs heavily, massaging his temples. he realizes that you're still staring at him, so he forces a vaguely disinterested expression—so carefully neutral. "changed my mind. i'm starving now. where's the food?"

a beat of silence passes, and he turns to look at you expectantly.

balancing on your knees, you peer at him from over the back of the couch, a cautious look in your eye. "you okay?"

he bristles. he hates that you can take him apart like that. that you can see the irritation settling in the crinkle of his brows. that it somehow feels so easy for you to see right through him.

he briefly considers spilling his guts to you then and there, but then that one image flashes behind his eyes once more. the image of bulky soldiers holding heavy guns in your face, and the words die on his tongue. "'m fine."

you raise a brow, eyes raking over his expression. he can tell you don't believe him at all, but he doesn't want to discuss this any further. he's decided that he won't take such risks—not with you anyway.

you look less than pleased as you watch him stand up and walk into the kitchen, effectively cutting the conversation short. but you don't say anything, choosing to just attach yourself to his shadow and follow him. your hesitant expression makes him feel a little guilty, but he brushes it off.

toji is suddenly struck with the realization that you've been with someone else tonight. his mood dips slightly, but he tries not to be too obvious about it. "how was the date?"

he is surprised at the way your expression seems to sour. you cross your arms, huffing as you lean against the counter. "not great," you pause, before glaring at him. "and i told you it wasn't a date!"

"yeah right," he snorts, dropping your leftovers into his plate and throwing it into the microwave. the droning hum echoes in his ears as he turns to you and crosses his arms. "why was it not great?"

"well i don't know," you shrug, lips slanting. you hop up onto the counter, settling in like you're about to drop the next great american novel. "he just…wasn't how he normally is at all?"

the microwave beeps, and toji turns away to pull the plate out. he thinks that he can taste blood on his tongue, but he clears his throat and keeps his voice even. "it was one of your coworkers right?"

"yeah, but like…" you suck on your teeth, searching for words. "he was so self-centered!"

toji is grateful his back is turned to you, because the way he's grinning would seem really strange given the circumstances. the satisfaction that is thrumming through his veins is almost ridiculous.

"i mean at work he was always polite and stuff so i figured he'd be nice to hang out with—" you roll your eyes at your own naivety. "but no. as soon as i sat down he started going on and on about himself and i just sat there. i barely got to say a word about myself at all."

"sounds like he really likes the sound of his own voice." toji finally looks at you, and despite feeling relieved that the date didn't work out, the miserable look on your face makes him feel a tad guilty. the wolf sighs heavily, walking over to you with the plate full of food. "here, eat."

your expression goes blank, giving him a look that basically translates to 'are you serious?'.

"i brought the food back for you!" you protest. toji rolls his eyes harshly.

"if this date was as bad as you're making it sound, i bet you were too icked out to eat."

a laugh escapes your throat, and you shrug in a way that seems to be acquiescent. the wolf approaches you, a half smirk on his face that looks comfortingly familiar, and when he is right in front of you, you watch him stab his fork into the food before raising it to your lips.

it is all too natural—the way he offers and the way you immediately take.

your lips part and close around the fork. toji's eyes zero in on the movement almost instantaneously. he is embarrassed that he didn't think twice about the so obviously domestic action, but he can't backtrack now. so all he can do is watch your mouth as you savor the taste and chew, his own throat feeling oddly parched.

he hadn't realized just how intimate the gesture was.

even now he feels like he's invading your space. you're close enough that he can count your lashes and see the flecks of light in your eyes. he wants to know what you're thinking—if your brain is going haywire the way his is. but all he can do is peer into the windows to your soul and search for any hints.

he is not perceptive enough to find anything. all he knows is that you're looking at him with stars in your eyes and that same honey like sweetness dripping from your smile. his ears flick restlessly, and swallows with a bit of difficulty.

"thanks," you mumble after you've finished chewing, looking at him with deliberation. "you eat the rest."

"you sure?" he asks, not understanding why his own voice is coming out just as quiet. you nod wordlessly, giving him a grateful smile, and his tail unknowingly begins its steady back and forth movement. your tongue peeks out to wet your lips, almost nervously, and toji's eyes greedily trace the path again. there's an almost bashful tinge to your expression, and toji is reminded of the way you reacted the first time he told you he trusted you.

(warmth bleeding from your skin. eyes moving away from his gaze. licking at your lips. flustered.)

something in his soul had practically sung when he saw that expression. just like it's doing now.

toji is suddenly struck with the thought of how easy it would be to kiss you right now. you're so damn close, another step forward and he could capture your lips easily. a sharp inhale, claws twitch around the plate. his brain dives further into those thoughts almost instantly, and he curses himself for it.

(forget sinking his teeth into you. forget digging through bone and flesh to find the beating muscle in your chest. all of that pales in comparison to actually getting a taste. to have you at his mercy the way you've had him for all these months—a deliciously sweet vengeance. he wonders what your lips would taste like, what they would feel like under the drag of his tongue. quiet little gasps pressed against his greedy mouth, soft flesh against the scar cutting over his lips.

if he strains hard enough he can hear the ragged pants filling the space between you two. his mind is frustratingly skilled enough to conjure up images of your naked skin and what it would feel like under his hands.

he swears he'd be so damn careful. just to make sure his claws don't damage you in a way that only an animal can damage a human.

but he knows he can do it. with reverent fingers that are skillful enough to take you apart and make you sing. and oh how you would sing—he'd make sure of it. sweet sighs and moans and a whisper of his name in a way that only you can say. he'd map out every inch of your heated skin until he had each detail memorized, seared into his very being.

that's what loyalty means after all. giving you every single piece of himself and gratefully taking what you offer him in return.)

the wolf has to blink away the haze in his eyes, turning away while clearing his throat. he busies his hands with shoving food down his gullet, but his mind is still racing.

(he is too ashamed to admit that similar thoughts have kept him up before.)

when he tries to take a steadying breath, he picks up the change in the air. the various scents floating around the room mix together, and yet his nose is strong enough to pick yours out. there's a strange difference to it, a spike of adrenaline and something else that makes his mouth water.

(he thinks he knows exactly what that something is. he'd been able to pick these changes out his whole life. all animals could.)

this is ridiculous. he isn't some hormonal pup that lacks self-control. he'd crawled through hell and back and made it out just fine. your stupid sweetness should not be a weakness—not to him anyway. and no amount of vague daydreaming and unrealistic pining would change that.

his pointed ears twitch as he hears you hop off the counter. you stretch out the stiffness in your neck and sigh. "well anyways, i'm ready for this day to be over. i gotta figure out what to do about him."

toji stiffens, tail going rigid as he turns to face you again. his expression is steely. "what do you mean?"

"it's crazy but he asked me on a second date."

you roll your neck again, and his eyes zero in on your skin.

(if only you knew. a bare canvas. so readily available for his teeth to sink into. vulnerable, yielding, devoted. he'd let you sink your teeth into his neck too. only you. no one else.)

"what a fucking fool," toji scoffs, crossing his bulky arms. he leans back, feeling the sharpness of the counter digging into his tailbone. he looks at you expectantly. "you're not going, are you?"

"nah," you shake your head, smiling mirthlessly. your fingers come up to push your hair away from your face, and toji's finger twitch in tandem. "the whole thing was weird. i'm good ending it here."

"mmh good," toji replies casually. your head snaps up, and you look at him with an intensely interested expression.

"good?" you repeat, with a little scrunch of your face that looks awfully curious.

toji blinks at you blankly, mind stuttering for a second.

(he didn't realize how that would sound. how truthfully honest it was.)

instead he just gives you a glance before nodding. he reaches for a glass and starts filling it with water unceremoniously. "yeah, it's good that you're not going."

"okay…" you trail off, confused. he thinks he can hear obscure smile in your voice.

"i mean he sounds stupid from what you were yapping about." the wolf continues indifferently. his fangs scrape against his bottom lip, and the urge to bite down for his own foolishness is extremely strong. "and ugly."

"ugly?" you ask in surprise, and he looks up to meet your gaze. at your confused expression, he shrugs gruffly.

"yeah. ugly." he doubles down. he doesn't know why you're looking at him like that—like he's just acted completely out of character. it's making his palms sweat and he hates it.

you scoff out a laugh, strangely amused and almost disbelieving. "you've never even seen him."

(a flash of burning heat. a roil of the guts—churning and churning. shades of ugly green.)

toji wonders why you're even defending this fool, irritation flickering in his stomach. now he just feels stubborn—unrelenting. "he just sounded ugly."

you gape at him, though you're smiling while you do it. almost like you're saying 'wow, i can't believe you said that'.

he rolls his jade eyes, downs the water in a gulp, and sets the glass down with more force that he intended. "why? you gonna go out with him again?"

"no…no i'm not going," you answer, a finality in your voice. your gaze searches his face for answers, and he keeps his expression neutral with great difficulty. your eyes are wide and a little surprised, and there's an odd look of satisfaction in them. bewilderment, too. like something has just fallen into place—settled.

a beat of silence passes.

the whole moment feels suffocating, but in a painfully good way. for some reason, toji can feel sweat dripping down his shoulder blades and soaking through his shirt. he glances at you again, and when he sees that same expression, something in his chest does an exhilarated flip. he purses his lips, and then clears his throat. "well i'm tired as fuck. i'm going to bed."

"right," you say, and toji doesn't know if he's imagining it, but you sound a little breathless. he gives you a final look, and when you look back at him, it feels more intense than any other contact the two of you have had. your smile gets a little wider, eyes going frustratingly soft, as you tilt your head.

(so that's what it feels like to be on the receiving end of your sweet attention. honey eyes and sugary smiles. saliva drips from his fangs.)

"get some sleep," he says throatily. his fangs feel like they're elongating, claws feel extra sharp. his tail has resumed its side to side motion. and that fire in his gut has come back tenfold, searing and all consuming.

you nod, teeth sinking into the flesh of your lips. "i will."

you look like you want to say something more, but then your eyes go a little more softer, and when you look at him, he realizes he would willingly lay the entire universe at your feet. "goodnight toji."

all he can manage is a soft grunt and a subtle nod of his head, before turning on his heels and heading for his room. he can feel your stare on his back, and it sends pleasant chills up his spine.

your words echo in his ears.

(no…no i'm not going.)

when he's in the sanctuary of his room, he catches sight of the satisfied grin on his face in the mirror. a little smug, a little delighted, a little surprised.

the same grin that was plastered across your face as you stood in that kitchen.

(so fucking pleased.)

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[alagaisia]

I really think that as long as you’re bringing it to a good, reputable shelter with high turnover, you can think of it in a purely positive way. You’re giving that pet a chance to find a home and a family that are a better fit where they might be much happier. And, a surrendered pet at a shelter often comes with a lot more information about its likes and wants and behaviors and habits (compared to puppies/kittens or strays) and someone who is looking for a pet with exactly the traits that didn’t work for you will be so glad that you were able to tell the shelter all about the pet.

I’m coming to this from the other side- my family has only ever adopted dogs from the Animal Humane Society, and we’ve had incredible luck. Our first dog, my sweet Cosmo, love of my life, was not quite this situation- he had an elderly owner who either passed or had to move to a care facility when he was two years old- but regardless he was an adult dog with good training and an established personality, so we knew something of what we were getting ourselves into with a first dog. We grew up together and he was a wonderful companion for 14 years until he passed last summer. Squiggy, our little muppet mutt, was a failed designer dog whose original owner hadn’t realized that a purse dog puppy would still need training and attention, and while he was a little old to just be starting potty training by the time we got him, he figured it out. He has bells hung by the back door that he rings when he wants to go outside. He’s very dumb but so fluffy and he’ll snuggle right up under your chin if he’s not busy following my mom everywhere (or crying if he can’t find her).

Our most recent dog, Wilson, we got just a few weeks ago. He’s four years old, very smart, very curious, such a sweetheart. He was a surrendered dog from a family that had recently had to move into a smaller space due to a house fire, and the family didn’t have room to give him his own space (apparently he’d had his own whole room at their old house). He was reported to have issues with chewing on shoes and furniture. We think that maybe this isn’t the whole story, and that there were other lifestyle incompatibilities that led to him being put up for adoption.

For one, we have not had any issues with him chewing on anything at all that he’s not supposed to (although he has rapidly dissected a great many stuffed dog toys). It’s quite possible this was an anxious response. Or, an exaggeration, so that his previous owners didn’t feel as guilty giving him up. He also has very little training for a four-year-old as smart as he is; he learns very quickly, so he knows “sit” already, but it seemed like he knew “no” and not much else when he first got home. He also was not entirely house trained, and didn’t seem to super understand the concept of having a yard (but he’s picked up on both of those things already!). So we think that even in his owners’ previous house, him having his own room may have been more to keep him out of the way than anything else, and he maybe didn’t get as much attention as he needed until he was constantly underfoot.

Obviously I’m a little biased, since I enjoy having him around, but I think Wilson might have a much better life with us than he had with his previous owners (who got him as a puppy from a breeder!) even though there wasn’t necessarily a “good” reason for them to give him up. It seems like they maybe liked the idea of having a dog, and didn’t realize until their living situation changed that he didn’t actually fit that well into their lifestyle. And that’s fine, because it means my family got to bring home a wonderful new dog who we adore. My dad bought him a hoodie so that they can have matching outfits. He gets to play so much fetch. I’m knitting him a sweater to match the one I made for our other dog last year.

Pets that go to shelters are not doomed to a sad and lonely life in a cage. They go on to have wonderful loving families with lifestyles that can prioritize the needs of a pet and they live ✨happily ever after.✨ Just because it’s the end of their time with you doesn’t mean it’s the end of their life. It’s an opportunity for them to get a second chance at that forever home.

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame. 

[kurishiri]

Darius Vogel ┊ The great detective Harrison’s book of incidents

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to narrative flow and characterization purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— the 440 times sent bonus for harrison’s promised event! i now know how jude fans feel... /lh

[TYPEWRITER]

CASE 04 DETAILS: The search for my cute little robin. REQUESTER: Darius.

[HALLWAY; NEUTRAL POV]

Liam: We’ve got nothing on our hands now since we put in our mission report, I see...

Harrison: Nothing, including your work over at Scala?

Liam: Tom’s making the script! He was telling us that he’s run into a bit of a block, so to give him a few days time.

On a certain day, with not a single strange happening, a shadow of a person approached the two, making casual chat.

Darius: Well, hello there, Harrison Gray and Liam Evans.

Harrison: And what might the head of Vogel need from us?

Darius: My poor heart, why so guarded?

D: I just caught wind a little while ago from the Queen’s Aide. You’re looking for cases to solve as detectives, yes?

D: So by all means, I would like you to hear mine out. (＠＾◡＾)

Liam: Oh, my curiosity’s tickling me, Harry!

Harrison: Yeah, and I feel like if we pick it up just to satiate that curiosity of yours, it’s gonna bite us back hard in the rear. (￣□￣」)

Darius: Hehe— don’t worry so much. I’m not really looking for anything grand.

D: I’d simply like you to find an adorable little robin who flitted away from my hands.

[STORAGE ROOM; KATE’S POV]

As Harrison, Liam, and Darius continued to converse, unbeknownst to the robin in question——

Meanwhile, I was in the palace’s storage room.

(It’s going to be fine. Darius would never be able to find me like this...!)

Why am I hiding from Darius, you ask? Well, it all happened just several minutes before...

—— Flashback ——

[PALACE GUEST ROOM]

Darius: Miss fairytale keeper, come play with me, how about it?

It was a line I’ve heard before, and I responded back...

Kate: Umm... I didn’t come here to play though.

Darius: That I know. You’re here to record the discussion Victor and I are going to have, isn’t that right?

Kate: Yes, that’s right. So, that’s why I don’t have time to play——

Darius: About that, Victor ended up getting caught up in some previous engagements, so he’s going to be an hour late.

D: So here we are, keep me occupied in that hour, will you. (＾▽＾)

—— End flashback ——

[STORAGE ROOM]

And then he suggested we play hide and seek.

Because, ‘If I find you in time, I’ll have you do a single thing of whatever I ask.’

He donned the face of an angel, all the while setting the conditions of a devil, and recalling those words, I tried my utmost best to find a hiding place.

(There’s only a few minutes left. At this rate, I will be able to escape from him.)

I looked up at the clock, lax, when...

Darius: Fooound you, miss fairytale keeper.

I wanted dearly to think I was hallucinating, but the one with that heartless voice tapped my shoulder.

Darius: I would like it if you didn’t ignore me, you know. Or, what... are you so focused at work, my voice just goes through one ear and right out the other?

D: So, so focused on cleaning, aren’t you, Miss Kate the maid.

I was dressed as a palace maid and holding a broom, and seeing this sight, Darius spoke, a teasing tone laced in his voice.

[CHOICES - START]

˖🕰️୭˚ CHOICE #1: ...I can hear you.

Kate: ...I can hear you. It’s just I didn’t think you would be able to find me.

Darius: Well, it wasn’t just me, you know. I had them help out, too.

(‘Them’...?)

Holding onto some doubt, I looked over his shoulder, and...

˖🕰️୭˚ CHOICE #2: You’ve got the wrong person.

Kate: You’ve got the wrong person.

Darius: Do I now? Let me take a closer look then.

Saying so, Darius spun around me.

Darius: Hmm... no matter where and how I look, I think it’s you through and through, miss fairytale keeper.

D: Oh, but just to be extra sure, I will definitely know if it’s her or not if we kiss. (⌒▽⌒)

Kate: I-I’ve never even kissed you before, though, so how would you know?

Darius: Hehe, so you admit it? That you are the miss fairytale keeper.

Kate: Ah...!

Realizing my own slip-up, I finally looked over his shoulder, and...

˖🕰️୭˚ CHOICE #3: Goodness me, I’m very, very busy!

Kate: Goodness me, I’m very, very busy!

Convincing myself that Darius’ voice was surely a hallucination, I continued sweeping the dust with my broom.

Darius: You’re ‘busy,’ you say? Well then, I’ll lend a helping hand.

Saying so, Darius snatched the broom from my hands.

Darius: But, are you really sure? If you made me clean and whatnot because you lied, then it would become quite a problem, methinks.

Kate: ...urgh, sorry. That was a lie. It’s my loss.

Apologizing, I looked over his shoulder.

[CHOICES - END]

There stood not only Darius, but Harrison and Liam as well.

Kate: Why are you two here too?

Harrison: Because we took up a request from Darius to find your hiding spot.

Liam: Isn’t Harry incredible? He was all like, ‘There’s not many places within the palaces to hide oneself, so she wouldn’t be physically hiding her body.’

L: ‘Instead, she’ll probably try and mix herself in with the maids and clean or something.’

Kate: Right to a tee... you really are incredible, Harrison.

K: That said, using Harrison by putting in a request would be unfair. My chances to win would plummet then, wouldn’t it!

Darius: But nowhere in the rules did we say I couldn’t. (￣ヘ￣)

D: And besides, there really was something I wanted you to do, miss fairytale keeper, so I could hardly afford to care about appearances.

Liam: ...It looks like the one whose rear is getting bitten isn’t us, but rather Kate, huh. (´-ω-`)

Harrison: Well, seeing as you’re a member of Crown, too, I doubt it’s anything irredeemably bad.

H: ...I think.

After throwing me sympathizing glances, Liam and Harrison left.

Darius: Now then... as for what I wanted you to do, miss fairytale keeper...

Darius’ honey-colored eyes glimmered like a blaze, as though he were a carnivore that found its prey.

Kate: Please go easy on me. I would prefer it if you didn’t hurt or scare me...

Darius: Well, isn’t that a tad troubling, to think the little miss fairytale keeper misunderstands me like that. (￣ヘ￣)

D: Okay, I’ve decided. The thing I want you to do is... ‘to do ten things of whatever I ask.’ (⌒▽⌒)☆

Kate: Wha...

Here I was, thinking if it was just one thing, I could somehow get through it, but somehow that ‘one’ turned straight to ‘ten.’

Kate: ...Can you even do that?

Darius: The rules didn’t say I couldn’t, yes?

D: Now then, whatever should I have you do, miss fairytale keeper...

D: First things first, maybe I’ll have you attend to me in your current outfit. And then—— (^ヮ^)

Darius was pulling out his tricks while wearing a smile,

[BLACK]

and seeing him like that before me, I thought to myself: ‘The next time Darius and I have a match, I will make sure to lay some clear-cut rules on the table.’

Fin.

PROLOGUE.

masterlist 🔎 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[cakerybakery]

Rabbits had a natural sway to their hips that enticed even those outside of their species.

Adam was an exception to this hard fast rule of nature. He stomped where others of his kind glided with a natural grace. Banging into things his siblings and even his sons had a natural talent for avoiding.

He was crashing his way through a tight spaced open market when a small naga male popped up in his path. The snow white creature with light golden markings cocked his head curiously. He waved and moved his hands, gesturing at Adam.

“Sorry,” Adam shook his head. “I don’t know much sign language.”

“Oh!” Snake perked up. “Your voice is deep.”

Adam nodded. Despite the stereotype, nagas weren’t deaf, they just couldn’t hear high pitched tones very well because they didn’t have external ears or eardrums. It was difficult for them to communicate with a lot of species that tended to speak in higher tones. Rabbits included.

It had caused a great deal of issues between the species in the past. Along with just generally not speaking the same language, rabbits tended to have higher pitched voices that were difficult for nagas to hear.

And of course verbal communication in the naga traditional language is limited. Using primarily scent or vibration and body language, something impossible for most other species to learn completely. Rabbits, of course, had their own language of scent and body movements, but they were more subconscious and engrained. Even if Adam didn’t speak the Northern Continent Common, he could still communicate with a rabbit from there nearly as well as one that spoke the Southern Continent Common. Nagas were more solitary and their language was more deliberately developed.

Most of the naga patients Adam spoke with at the hospital had trouble communicating in their traditional language with other naga outside of their specific subspecies due to dialect differences. There can be some overlap, but you could also insult someone asking where the bathroom is.

Sign language became standard and most naga were trilingual. Speaking their own dialect, sign language, and common.

Most other species only spoke their own and the common for their region.

Adam had learned some sign language to explain basic things at the hospital, but he wasn’t fluent. Luckily his voice was deep enough for naga to hear him speaking common without difficulty.

“I was wondering if you could see someone over the crowd.” The naga asked. “I’ve been separated from my daughter and there are too many scents and vibrations for me to pick her out. She’s with a hawk girl. Uhh, they’re sixteen. Oh! And she looks like me, but with long hair.” The man was so hopeful looking that Adam couldn’t help but want to help.

He was taller than most rabbits, often confused for an alpha even though those are rare among his species, and taller than most other species as well.

Adam scanned the crowd. His eyes suddenly focused on a blonde haired young woman with white skin. Another young woman she was with had distinctive light gray or perhaps silver featherings of a hawk.

He’d never seen that colouring before, usually the grey was deeper.

“I think I see them.” He held out a hand. The naga’s torse was small, but his tail was long. They might move faster through the crowd if he carried the man. “Did you want to hold on so we don’t get separated?”

The man hesitated a second but nodded and took Adam’s hand.

Adam pulled him up so he could sit on one of Adam’s shoulder’s and wrap his tail around the other one so it looped Adam’s arm loosely and the tip tucked back over the man’s hips. He had sharp nails and clung as gently as he could to Adam’s t-shirt.

Moving through the crowd, most people scampered out of the way and Adam made good time.

Lucifer dropped his tail to the ground with a light thump. Smacking it in a few quick sessions but the girl didn’t seem to be able to hear the vibrations.

Pausing, Adam thumped his large foot in the same pattern. The girl froze. He did it again and he saw her duck down. Adam did it again, which confused the rabbits around him as they looked for possible danger or what he could be upset about, and the girl popped up again, swivelling in their direction. She waved and moved her hands.

Adam didn’t catch most of it. “Father” “you”, then “come here”. Adam moved towards them and when they got there the man got down and the two let out a flurry of signs, the hawk girl added in a couple here and there.

“Charlie says thank you for finding her dad and us.” The hawk girl said looking up at him. Her voice was a bit high pitched and that explained why Charlie and her father were using sign language with her.

“It’s no problem.”

“Oh!” Charlie put her hand to her chest and look startled. “You have a deep voice!”

“I get that a lot.” Adam chuckled.

The man cocked his head a little at Charlie, “what?”

Charlie had a bit of a higher pitched voice, certainly higher than her deep sounding father, he seemed to not quite get everything Charlie said.

She lowered her voice and repeated herself.

“Oh!” The man nodded. “Yes, he does.”

The watch on the man’s wrist vibrated and the man looked at it. “If you’re not busy,” he turned to look up at Adam, “can I thank you with a free lunch? I know a buffet around here that caters to all sorts of diets.”

Adam wasn’t in a hurry. He was just checking out the open market as something to do on his day off. To get some sun since he mostly works the night shift at the hospital. “Sure. That buffet won’t see me coming.” He patted his round stomach, never having bothered to lose the baby weight from carrying Cain nearly a decade ago. Back when he was young and married.

“Excellent.” The man’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh! I just realized. I never even bothered to introduce myself or ask your name.”

Holding out his hand for the man to take, Adam told the man his name.

Grasping it, and pumping their hands together for a second, the man replied. “Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar. This is my daughter Charlie, and her girlfriend Vaggie.”

They exchanged pleasantries and as they walked through the crowd Adam clasped Lucifer’s shoulder to avoid getting separated.

Lucifer smiled up at him, genuine and bright, and Adam returned the smile.

His heart gave a flutter and Adam fought the urge to fuss with Lucifer’s hair.

Biting back a sigh, Adam was glad nagas were all betas and Lucifer wouldn’t be able to tell that a little crush was starting to form in Adam’s heart. His pheromones were way different than that of a naga.

Being a rabbit, Adam tended to develop little crushes fairly easily. A shared look was usually all it took. Mostly they passed quickly as the other person didn’t catch on and thus didn’t signal back their interest. The few that did were other rabbits and those relationships ended quickly as they wanted different things.

Adam was monogamous, most rabbits were poly. Four to five adults in each family unit were normal. It was hard meeting rabbits that didn’t want multiple partners and large families.

To be honest he kind of wanted a small family. Only six or ten kids instead of the fifteen or twenty in most rabbits were homes.

So he wouldn’t mind finding a new partner, but if he never did have more he was fairly content with his two boys.

Cain he carried, as his ex wife, Eve, carried Abel. Bit of an accident there and they were lucky both boys were singletons. Multiples were far more common. The boys already had two sets of twin siblings from Eve and her new partners.

It was useless anyway.

Naga were solitary, even in family units. They didn’t form mating pairs outside of their breeding season. The kids going back and forth between parental homes until they became adults themselves.

Still, he knew naga had two dicks. Adam got a little excited at the idea of having two cocks in him. Rabbits only had the one, but they could certainly accommodate two easily. Most multiples had different sires.

When they made it out of the crowd, the girls felt safe going ahead a bit. Charlie wrapped her arms around Vaggie’s arm and the girls giggled a bit as they spoke in a higher pitch to keep Lucifer from hearing them flirt. Unfortunately for Adam. He could easily hear it.

He had to tune the girls out as they whispered sweet nothings to each other.

Instead he checked out Charlie’s tail as she slithered on the ground. It was rather short, so she was a girl. The name threw Adam off. It didn’t help that all naga wore skirts. Tail length and females having small breasts that secreted milk for the first few weeks before their young were able to eat meat, were the only outwardly difference between the sexes of naga.

But he was hardly one to talk. The only real difference between male and female rabbits was that males were a little more pear shaped and female more hourglass. Being almost all omegas they were both capable of impregnating and being impregnated. Only the alphas had a pure distinction. With males only able to impregnate and females only able to be impregnated.

Their young were also fast growers. Switching to plants after a few weeks when they started to crawl and their teeth came in.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Lucifer asked.

“Uhh,” he couldn’t easily come up with a lie and so settled for a half truth. “Babies.”

Most people assumed rabbits were all about mating anyway.

“Oh!” Lucifer looked surprised. His eyes widened a bit. “Do you have kids?”

He nodded. “I’m the dam to my son, Cain. And sire for my boy Abel.”

“Rabbits are all omegas, right? Naga only have the one set of sexes, so I’m not really sure how to tell that sort of thing apart. For the most part it can be hard to smell people apart. Which sounds really awful when I say it out loud.” Lucifer gave a forced awkward chuckle.

It was cute. “Mostly. Alphas make up about five percent of our population. So most family units have a one or two, but omega is far more common. And I know what you mean.” Adam gave him a reassuring smile. “Scents are pretty unique to each species and it can be hard outside of that species to tell what each scent means so it find of just all blends together. In the hospital I can’t even tell there are other rabbits around because of all the smells.”

Lucifer brightened up at that. “You work at the hospital?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m a nurse in the labour and delivery unit at the central hospital. So I’m pretty good at sniffing out pregnancy in a bunch of different species, but that’s about it.”

“Well, that sounds useful for your job.”

Adam laughed, “if they’re coming into labour and delivery, they better already know they’re pregnant, or they’re in for a hell of a surprise.”

Lucifer’s flushed and his cheeks turned bright red under the faint yellow markings. “I guess, I hadn’t thought of that.”

He was cute when he blushed. Adam tail twitched, and he could already smell himself getting wet.

It wasn’t a myth that rabbits were always in heat, they just didn’t ovulate until after sex. So Adam got wet at the drop of a hat, but so long as he took precautions he could let that little snake fuck him silly and be fine.

Every rabbit he came across would be able to smell him, but it was rude to assume that just because someone was ovulating they wanted you to fertilize them.

On the other hand, it would be nice to have babies in him again.

Adam didn’t see many hybrid babies. Not across species anyway.

Eve’s family had been from the Southern Isles, her symmetrical black and orange hair and straight up ears were beautiful. He’d always felt a little plain with his Western Contient brown and lop ears.

Lucifer was gorgeous too. Adam had never seen such coloured patterning before. If Adam had to guess he’s say boa or anaconda, both from the Southern Continent. Maybe a mix?

What would their kids look like?

“Still thinking about babies?” Lucifer asked and it was Adam’s turn to blush.

The girls got to the restaurant doors before they did and went inside.

“I was thinking what a snake and rabbit hybrid would look like.” Might as well flirt a little. No harm in it.

Lucifer’s tongue flickered and he gave Adam a smirk. “Is that so?” He looked Adam up and down with an appreciative look, and then sighed. “Can’t say I’m not flattered but from what I know about rabbit culture, we’re probably not compatible long term.”

“True.” Adam nodded. “Guess we’re dodging a mutual bullet. I’m monogamous and want to marry one partner and have kids with just them.”

Freezing with his hand on the door, Lucifer looked up with wide eyes. “Me too!”

“What?” Adam was sure now he was the one with hearing problems. “I thought naga were solitary?”

“Usually!” Lucifer looked excited and his tail kept curling as he coiled in place. “I’m a little, uhh, weird by naga standards. I thought rabbits had like three or four spouses?”

“Usually. I’m a little weird by rabbit standards.”

Lucifer open the door and held it open for Adam. As Adam walked in he considered trying to sway his hips like other rabbits did effortlessly, but didn’t want to embarrass himself so he did his usual heavy footfalls and let his tail flick with interest.

Brushing against Adam, Lucifer nuzzled his cheeks and head against him.

“You flirting?” Adam asked.

“Only if your tail flicking is.”

“It is.”

Lucifer smirked. “Who says cross species language is difficult? You certainly picked up fast that I was trying to signal where we were to Charlie.” A hand took a firm hold of Adam’s amble backside. “And I might not be able to tell your pheromones apart, but I know horny when I see it.”

Adam swatted away the hand before the girls spotted them.

“I’m off on Thursday. How about we undouble and have a date?” He whispered low and quiet.

Vaggie still looked back over at them from the counter, slightly confused.

He shut his mouth until Vaggie’s attention was caught by Charlie.

Lucifer kept his hands to himself during lunch and they exchanged numbers after.

Adam had barely gotten around the corner when he got a text asking where he wanted to go for their first date.

[lonesilverw0lf]

The always smiling, closed eyed, rich, fashion conscious, cheerful, pampering, remembers everyone’s birthday, has everything but the kitchen sink in her purse, presence literally lightens up a room, wide thighs and big boobied Mom Friend is the Heroes Party financial manager. She is so good at keeping a budget, finding great deals, haggling, the whole nine, and still finds the funds to give everyone gifts that it’s scary. She has been singlehandedly keeping the whole party fed, clothed, supplied, and everything. Even the nerdy number crunchers can’t figure it out. She currently in a seedy part of a city, but why? She is checking in on a black market dealer and informant in a small back room. She was just about ready to leave when the Informant tipped her off that he has information regarding MC.

Informant: Heh, little missy wants to know about her wayward friend hm? Well, I’m afraid this is going to cost you a bit extra. That is outside of what we agreed on previously after all.

Mom Friend: Oh dear, you see I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see I am willing to pay you for information about most things, even work some shady dealings with others here and there, but if it’s in regards to MC then you will give it to us pro bono.

Informant: Hahahaha! You don’t have any power here to make such demands!

Mom Friend: Ohohohoho, it’s in your best interest to tell me what I want to know. I’m not in the mood for bartering right now.

Informant: Someone from the so called Heroes Party obviously hasn’t taught you that things don’t work like that around here. Nor that you have any kind of protection here either. Let’s see if some time with Boris will straighten you out, eh?

Mom Friend, looks over to the large man eyeing her: Oh I’m sorry dear, but you’re not my type!

Informant: Hahahaha! You don’t understand your position here missy! This room is soundproof, there’s nobody that will hear you! That door is the only way in or out and it’s locked!

Mom Friend, sighing unperturbed as Boris stalks over to her: Oh dear, it looks like we’re going to do this the hard way.

In an instant Boris in on the ground writhing in pain.

Mom Friend: Oh don’t worry Mr Informant, I’ll get to you in just a moment. In the meantime, you can decide which of your fingers you want broken last.

Informant, uncomprehending what just happened: Y-y-y-you can’t do anything to me! I have protection from the King of Beggars!

Mom Friend: Oh, is that so? You really think your ‘King’ would protect someone who is stealing from him? Someone who is skimming a little extra gold, booze, women, off the top? Someone who’s slicing his shipments to him? Someone who is trying to build up their own little ‘kingdom’ within his own kingdom in a plot to eventually overthrow him in oh 2 years? Someone who drinks with the corrupt government officials and dreaming about how you’re going to dump his body into the moat with a bag of lead coins shoved down his throat? Not that you would allow those officials to stay long anyway, only a few months or so. That is if everything went smoothly for you. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to give him his cut of your dealings with me. Our meetings are ‘off the table’ in your words, and I know you also meant to your ‘King’.

Informant: What?! How did you-?!

Mom Friend, casually dislocating limbs on Boris while he screams: If anything, I think he’ll thank me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate knowing where those Antwon originals ‘disappeared’ to. He’d be one less rodent stealing from his table, and one less knife pointing at his back too. Sure he’ll lose an informant, but it’s not like you’re a very high ranking one though. There’s no shortage of criminals who’re envious of your position, they’d jump at the chance to prove to your ‘King’ they have what it takes to replace you and then some. And without the treasonous thoughts too! At least for a while. Even if he doesn’t thank me, you’re going to be feeling the full extent of my ‘administrations’ for a very, very, very~ long time. I am nothing if not thorough!~

Informant, sweating: Ha! You can’t frighten me with-

Mom Friend: You know I had a rebellious phase when I was twelve. I wanted to read those smutty Count Dracula stories because my parents told me not to, but I accidentally found myself reading about Vlad Dracul III of Romania. He was reportedly the inspiration of Bram Stokers original Count Dracula, but I found his other moniker of Vlad the Impaler far more interesting. That led me down a historical rabbit hole of our worlds history’s darker side. Brazen Bulls, Interrogation Chairs, Iron Maidens, the Racks, oh mankind can be… inventive. Did you know there are 206 bones in the human body? Or that certain Chinese pressure points discovered to cause unimaginable pain when triggered? How many volts of lightning that can travel through a body before being permanently damaged? How long someone can laugh unstopped before dying? How long someone can survive in the extreme temperatures? How little food and water is needed to keep someone just barely alive? I’ve had some fascinating discoveries for someone so young on the dark web. While I may be limited to what I have on hand, I’m sure I’ll manage.

Informant, now cowering: Why are you doing this?

Mom friend: Because I’m what we call a ‘mom friend’. Although I would prefer to be called big sis, ‘momma’ makes me sound so old but that’s not important. What is important is that you give me the information about MC, because we are missing our friend and want him back. Back home our towns mascot is the grey wolf. Oh I know they’re a bit of a pest in your world but back home they’re creatures of beauty. They’re strong, capable, adaptable, intelligent, and above all loyal.

We are a team. A family. We take care of each other, protect one another, will do crazy things for each other. We are going to save this world, and we are all going to go home. Together. We are going to bring MC with us. You are going to tell me everything you know about MC.

Mom Friend, now a looming presence who hasn’t broken her smile once: Now then, care to make a deal? Or are we going to discover what happens when Mommy turns into Momma Bear?

MC: walks through the front door of the building being used as a front and gets one whiff of Mom Friends perfume

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[wittyandobsessed]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Gregory House x Doctor!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | stalking, harassment, intrusive behavior, obsession.

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

It all began with a routine consultation. Or at least, it was supposed to be routine.

You were working through your usual clinic hours, the steady rhythm of patient after patient, from coughs and colds to overly paranoid Googlers convinced they had rare tropical diseases. It was one of those days when everything seemed slightly off—the air felt heavier, and you couldn’t shake the lingering headache from the case you’d been helping House with earlier that morning.

The next name appeared on your chart: Jason Reid, 34 years old. Chest pains.

You sighed, straightened your white coat, and opened the door to the exam room with your usual professional smile.

Jason was already seated on the exam table, his casual posture at odds with the complaint he’d listed. He had the kind of smile people described as “charming,” and he wore it easily, as if he were used to being the most charismatic person in the room. His clothes were neat but not formal, and he looked perfectly healthy at first glance.

“You’re Dr. L/N, right?” he asked as you stepped inside.

“That’s me,” you replied, setting the chart down on the counter. “Chest pains, huh? What’s been going on?”

He leaned back slightly, one arm propped behind him. “I wouldn’t call it pain, exactly. More like…tightness. Comes and goes, especially when I’m stressed.”

You nodded, reaching for your stethoscope. “How long has this been happening?”

“Few weeks, maybe. It’s not constant, but you know how it is. Felt like I should get it checked out, just in case.”

“Always a good idea,” you agreed. “Let’s start with some basics. Any family history of heart disease? Smoking? High blood pressure?”

He shook his head, rattling off his answers easily. “Nope. No smoking, no high blood pressure, nothing exciting in the family tree. I’m pretty boring, health-wise.”

“Well, boring’s good,” you said, stepping closer. “Let’s have a listen to your heart. Can you lift your shirt?”

He hesitated for just a moment, then pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing a toned chest that suggested he spent time at the gym. He caught your brief glance—purely clinical—and grinned.

“Don’t worry, Doc,” he said lightly. “I’ve been working out. Should be a pretty good listen in there.”

You forced a polite smile, chalking it up to harmless humor. People said awkward things in situations like this all the time.

“Deep breath,” you instructed, pressing the stethoscope to his chest.

Jason complied, inhaling slowly. For a moment, there was nothing unusual—just the steady rhythm of his heart, the faint sound of air moving through his lungs.

“So,” he said, his voice casual. “You must get hit on a lot in your line of work.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift in tone. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re smart, you’re obviously great at what you do, and…” His grin widened. “Well, you know, you’re easy on the eyes.”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your expression neutral. “Deep breath,” you repeated, shifting the stethoscope slightly.

He complied again, though his grin didn’t fade. “I’m just saying, it must happen. A lot of guys probably think it’s their lucky day, getting you as their doctor.”

You didn’t answer, focusing instead on finishing the examination as quickly as possible.

“All clear,” you said briskly, stepping back and removing the stethoscope from your ears. “Your heart and lungs sound normal. No murmurs, no signs of anything concerning.”

He chuckled. “Guess I’ve just been working myself up, huh? All that stress, getting to me.”

“It’s possible,” you replied, already moving to the counter to jot down some notes. “But if the tightness continues or gets worse, you should follow up with your primary care doctor. In the meantime, try to manage stress levels—exercise, sleep, that sort of thing.”

Jason slid off the exam table, picking up his shirt but not putting it back on right away. Instead, he lingered, leaning slightly against the counter.

“You know,” he said, his tone dropping into something that made your skin crawl, “if you’re ever looking to blow off some stress yourself…”

Your hand froze mid-note. You turned to face him, your expression carefully blank.

“Mr. Reid,” you said evenly, your voice firm but not unkind, “this is a professional setting. I expect you to treat it as such.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no offense meant. Just thought I’d take a shot.”

“Don’t,” you said, your tone sharper this time.

For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he shrugged and pulled his shirt back on. “Fair enough. No harm, no foul, right?”

You didn’t reply, instead stepping toward the door and opening it. “You’re all set. Have a good day.”

Jason gave you one last lingering look, then walked out, his charm slipping into something less pleasant as he muttered something under his breath.

You closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as the tension drained from your body. It wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a patient like that, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. Still, it didn’t make it any easier.

For a few minutes, you just stood there, taking slow, deep breaths to steady yourself before moving on to the next patient.

A week had passed since the unsettling encounter with Jason Reid, and while the incident had lingered in your mind for a day or two, the demands of your work had quickly swept it aside. Your days were filled with sarcastic banter with House, juggling his impossible diagnostics, and dealing with the occasional chaos in the clinic. Patients came and went like a revolving door, and you’d grown adept at compartmentalizing the more unpleasant ones.

But when you opened the door to your next consultation and saw him sitting there, that smug, self-satisfied smile already plastered on his face, you froze.

“Doctor,” Jason said, his voice dripping with familiarity. “We meet again.”

For a moment, you stood there gripping the door handle, your stomach knotting. You hadn’t recognized his name on the file—Jason Reid was too generic to stick in your memory—but his face was burned into your mind.

Pasting on your best professional mask, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you. “Mr. Reid,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “What brings you back today?”

He leaned back on the exam table, his posture overly casual, and gestured vaguely toward his lap. “Well, Doc, I’m having some…discomfort. Down there.”

Your stomach sank further. Of course, he was.

You reached for the chart, skimming through it. “Discomfort where exactly?”

“In my crotch,” he said bluntly, his grin widening as he said it.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you immediately regretted it. The look he gave you was unnerving—smug, calculated, as though this were a game he was playing and you were the unwilling participant. You kept your composure, refusing to give him the satisfaction of rattling you.

“Let’s get some specifics,” you said briskly. “What kind of pain? Sharp, dull, constant, or intermittent?”

He shrugged, the movement deliberately casual. “It’s hard to describe. Maybe you should take a look, Doc. See for yourself.”

You stiffened but forced yourself to remain calm. “I’ll need more information before we proceed. Any redness, swelling, or signs of infection?”

“Nah, just…feels funny. Like something’s off. You know?” His grin was back, and the insinuation in his tone made your skin crawl.

You sighed internally. There was no way around this. If he was reporting discomfort, you had to examine him, as much as you dreaded what came next.

“All right,” you said, your voice clipped. “I’ll need you to lower your pants so I can perform an exam.”

Jason’s grin widened, and he moved far too eagerly for your liking. You turned to put on gloves, taking a moment to steel yourself before turning back around.

When you did, you were greeted with the sight of him sitting there, pants around his ankles, entirely too comfortable in the situation. You forced yourself to focus on the task, your mind chanting, Professional. Just stay professional.

As you began the examination, Jason’s comments started.

“You must get a lot of practice with this,” he said, his tone suggestive.

You ignored him, keeping your focus entirely on the clinical aspects of the examination.

“Careful, Doc,” he added with a chuckle. “Don’t want to get too rough down there.”

You paused, shooting him a sharp look. “Mr. Reid, I need you to remain still and stop talking so I can finish this examination.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk never left his face. “Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood. You seem so tense.”

“I’m doing my job,” you replied evenly, though your patience was wearing thin.

When the examination revealed nothing of concern, you stepped back and removed your gloves. “There doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong,” you said, turning to dispose of the gloves and wash your hands. “If the discomfort persists, I recommend following up with your primary care doctor or a urologist.”

Jason pulled up his pants slowly, still grinning. “Guess that means I’m all good. But hey, if I have any more…issues, maybe I’ll come back to see you. You’ve got a great touch, Doc.”

Your jaw clenched, but you refused to let him see you react. “Mr. Reid, this is a professional environment, and your comments are inappropriate. I expect you to treat this setting—and me—with respect.”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew more predatory. “Aw, come on. You’re not seriously offended, are you? I’m just having a little fun.”

“This isn’t the place for ‘fun,’” you said firmly, moving toward the door. “This is your second warning. If you can’t respect boundaries, I’ll have to escalate this to hospital administration.”

His expression darkened slightly, but he shrugged, brushing it off. “Fine, fine. Don’t get your scrubs in a twist.”

You opened the door, stepping aside to indicate that the consultation was over. “You’re free to go, Mr. Reid.”

Jason stood, pausing just long enough to give you one last look—a look that sent a shiver down your spine. There was something about it that felt almost like a threat, though he didn’t say anything as he walked out.

Once the door closed behind him, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the counter. Your hands trembled slightly as you recounted the exchange in your mind, replaying the subtle menace behind his actions.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last you’d see of Jason Reid.

You were right to be wary. Jason Reid began to make regular appearances at the hospital, but no longer as a patient seeking consultations. Instead, he wandered the wards, his presence becoming increasingly invasive. At first, it was subtle—catching glimpses of him lingering in the corridors or seated in the cafeteria. He always seemed to be there, hovering just close enough to make you uneasy.

Each time he spotted you, he made a point of approaching, his demeanor annoyingly familiar as if the two of you had a long-standing friendship.

"Fancy seeing you again, Doc," he'd say, his grin never reaching his eyes.

You tried to maintain professionalism, reminding him that people without valid reasons—whether as patients or visitors—had no business in the wards. But Jason waved off your attempts to keep him at bay with dismissive comments.

"Relax, I’m just grabbing some coffee," he’d say, gesturing toward the cafeteria. Or, "I was visiting a friend," though he never provided any details.

The more you tried to draw boundaries, the more he pushed. His visits became more frequent, and his behavior escalated. He began seeking you out deliberately, appearing in places he had no reason to be. You’d find him near the nurses’ station, in hallways leading to your office, even outside the clinic where you worked.

"Are you stalking me?" you’d asked one day, your voice firm though your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

Jason laughed, the sound grating and unnerving. "Stalking? Come on, Doc. I just like seeing you. Is that such a crime?"

"It is if you’re making someone uncomfortable," you snapped. "I’ve asked you to stop coming around here without a valid reason. I’m not going to ask again."

But your warnings only seemed to embolden him. Over time, his demeanor shifted from annoyingly persistent to overtly invasive. He began standing too close, brushing his hand against your arm under the guise of friendly gestures, and his comments became blatantly inappropriate.

"You’re tense," he’d said one afternoon when you passed him in the hallway. His hand darted out, gripping your elbow briefly. "You should let me help with that. I’m good with my hands, you know."

You pulled away sharply, glaring at him. "Touch me again, and I’ll report you to security."

Jason smirked, entirely unbothered by your threat. "Go ahead. I’m just being friendly."

And so, you did report him. You spoke to security, detailing his increasingly alarming behavior. Unfortunately, without concrete proof or a specific incident to pin him down, their response was frustratingly tepid.

"Unless he’s directly threatening you or violating any policies, there’s not much we can do," they said, their apologies doing little to ease your growing anxiety.

The situation came to a head one day when you were rushing through your duties, preoccupied with a demanding patient load. You stepped into the staff bathroom for a brief moment of reprieve, only to have your sense of security shattered.

Jason was there.

The door clicked shut behind you, and before you could process what was happening, he cornered you, his arm barring your path to the exit.

"Jason," you said sharply, your heart pounding. "What the hell are you doing here? This is a staff-only area."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your face. "I couldn’t stay away, Doc. You’re too irresistible."

Your stomach twisted in fear as his other hand reached for your shoulder, his intentions unmistakable. "Don’t," you said, your voice trembling but firm. "Get out of my way, now."

But Jason only grinned, his predatory gaze making your blood run cold. "Come on, don’t play hard to get. I know you want this as much as I do."

The panic surged as he moved to close the distance, his hand gripping your wrist as you tried to shove him away. You struggled against his hold, your mind racing with fear and anger, desperate for an escape.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a nurse walked in, her startled gasp breaking the tense moment. Jason released you instantly, stepping back with a disarming smile as though nothing had happened.

"Oops," he said casually, brushing past the nurse as he exited. "Guess I got lost."

You stood there trembling, your back pressed against the wall as the nurse approached, concern etched on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her eyes searching yours.

You nodded mechanically, though the truth was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest, your skin still crawling from Jason’s touch. You managed to thank her before leaving the bathroom, your steps shaky as you made your way back to your office.

From that day forward, everything changed. You were constantly on edge, hyperaware of your surroundings. Every sound, every shadow, every unexpected movement set your nerves on fire. You couldn’t relax, not even in the staff areas where you were supposed to feel safe.

Your work began to suffer as the stress took its toll. House noticed, of course, though he didn’t mention it outright. Instead, his comments became sharper, his sarcasm cutting a little deeper, as if he were trying to provoke you into revealing what was wrong.

But you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t tell anyone. The fear was too fresh, the humiliation too raw. So, you buried it, hoping that somehow, Jason Reid would finally get bored and leave you alone.

But deep down, you knew better. This wasn’t over.

The constant fear of running into Jason Reid haunted you, gnawing at every aspect of your life. You couldn’t walk down a hallway without glancing over your shoulder, couldn’t sit in the cafeteria without scanning the room, and couldn’t step into an elevator without bracing yourself for the possibility that he might be there. The anxiety weighed on you day and night, stealing sleep from your nights and appetite from your days.

It wasn’t long before the effects became visible. You were sluggish, less focused. Tasks that once took you minutes now dragged on. You found yourself forgetting small details, double-checking your notes more than usual, and catching mistakes that you never would have made before. Your work ethic, once a source of pride, was faltering.

House noticed. Of course, he did. He always noticed.

But he didn’t handle it delicately.

"Maybe try caffeine," he quipped one morning as you stood at the whiteboard, struggling to contribute to the differential diagnosis. "Or better yet, a brain transplant. I hear they’re all the rage."

The team chuckled, but his words didn’t land with their usual playfulness. Instead of shooting back a sarcastic remark, you merely looked down at the floor, biting your lip as you scribbled notes without enthusiasm.

He frowned, though he quickly masked it.

Throughout the day, he kept a close eye on you, watching as you moved through your tasks with a mechanical sort of detachment. Normally, you had a spark—an energy that matched his wit, his eccentricity. But today, you were a shell of yourself, and it grated on him more than he cared to admit.

By the time the team was sent off to run tests on the new patient, House’s patience had run thin. As you started to slip out of the room with Chase and Foreman, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Not you," he said, pointing his cane in your direction. "Stay."

The others exchanged glances but didn’t linger. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you alone with House in the silence of his office.

"Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

You hesitated but obeyed, lowering yourself into the seat while avoiding his gaze.

House leaned back in his chair, studying you with an expression that was equal parts annoyance and curiosity. "All right, spill. What’s going on with you? You’re slower than a med student on their first day. Did you take up drinking, or did the little hamster in your brain finally die of exhaustion?"

That was it. The last straw.

Your hand clenched into a fist on the armrest, and before you could stop yourself, you snapped.

"Can you just back off for once, House?" you said, your voice louder and sharper than you intended. "Not everything is a goddamn joke!"

The room fell into a heavy silence. House blinked, clearly taken aback. You had worked with him for three years, and while you were no stranger to his sharp tongue, you’d never spoken to him like that.

"Wow," he said after a moment, his tone flat. "Somebody’s got their lab coat in a twist."

But even as he said it, his eyes searched yours, looking for clues to explain your uncharacteristic outburst.

"You know what?" you said, standing abruptly. "Forget it. I don’t have time for this."

You turned to leave, but before you could reach the door, his voice stopped you.

"Sit back down."

There was no sarcasm this time, no edge. Just a quiet command that you couldn’t ignore.

Reluctantly, you turned around and sat back down, your arms crossed over your chest as you stared at the floor.

House leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he studied you intently. "Something’s wrong," he said, his voice softer now. "And it’s not just work stress or me being my charming self. So what is it?"

"I’m fine," you muttered, refusing to look at him.

"Yeah, and I’m a motivational speaker," he shot back. "Try again."

When you didn’t respond, he sighed heavily, pushing himself to his feet. He walked around the desk, his cane tapping against the floor with every step, and came to stand in front of you.

"Look at me," he said.

You shook your head, your eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"Look at me," he repeated, his tone firmer this time.

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze, though your eyes barely met his before darting away again.

"Whatever it is," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "you can tell me. I’m not as heartless as you like to think."

He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

But the moment his hand made contact, you flinched—an instinctive, involuntary reaction that spoke volumes. You jerked away from his touch, your body stiffening as if he’d burned you.

House froze, his hand suspended in the air before he slowly lowered it.

The room was so silent you could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

You didn’t answer.

His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information he’d gathered over the past week: your distracted behavior, your lack of sleep, the way you jumped at small noises. And now this.

When you refused to meet his gaze, something inside him twisted painfully.

"Someone hurt you," he said, the words more a statement than a question.

You flinched again, confirming his suspicion.

House felt his stomach drop. Anger surged through him, a rare and terrifying kind of anger that he hadn’t felt in years. But he forced himself to stay calm, to keep his voice steady.

"Who?" he asked.

You shook your head, your throat tight with emotion. "It’s nothing. Just let it go."

"Let it go?" he repeated, his voice rising. "Someone hurt you, and you want me to just let it go?"

"I don’t want to talk about it!" you snapped, standing abruptly.

House stepped back, giving you space but refusing to back down.

"You’re scared," he said, his tone softer now. "And you’re not sleeping or eating because of it. That’s not nothing."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to break down in front of him.

"Please," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just leave it alone."

For the first time in a long time, House felt utterly powerless. He wanted to fix this, to fix you, but he didn’t know how. All he could do was watch as you turned and left his office, leaving him standing there with a heavy ache in his chest and a storm of emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

He didn’t know who had done this to you, but one thing was certain: whoever it was would regret ever crossing your path.

House couldn’t stop replaying that moment in his mind—the way you had flinched at his touch, the fear flickering in your eyes. It was unlike anything he had ever seen from you, and it haunted him. He’d seen you strong, confident, sarcastic, and unflappable. But now? You were fading. Slowly but surely, he could see the spark in you dimming, and it infuriated him more than he cared to admit.

It wasn’t just frustration; it was rage. A cold, simmering rage that built in his chest every time he saw you forcing a smile or heard you insist that everything was fine. He hated lies, and he hated being lied to even more. And yet, every time you brushed him off, claiming that nothing had happened, he could see right through you.

House wasn’t the type to let things go. He wasn’t patient, and he wasn’t tactful. He was relentless, especially when he cared—even if he’d rather eat glass than admit he cared. So he did what he did best: he inserted himself into the situation, whether you wanted him to or not.

For days, House kept a closer eye on you than ever. He began to notice things he hadn’t paid attention to before—how you avoided certain hallways, how you kept your back to the wall in elevators, how you flinched at sudden movements. It wasn’t obvious to most people, but to him? It was glaring.

He started following you, though he’d never admit it out loud. Whenever you left the office, he’d trail behind at a safe distance, leaning on his cane and keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. At first, he told himself it was to confirm his suspicions, to figure out who or what was making you act this way. But as the days passed, it became something more.

Then, it happened.

It was mid-afternoon, and the hospital buzzed with the usual chaos of patients, nurses, and doctors darting through the corridors. House had stationed himself at the corner of a hallway, pretending to fiddle with his cane as he watched you return from the cafeteria.

That’s when he appeared.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and had an air of smugness about him that House didn’t like. He walked toward you with a casual confidence that made House’s gut twist.

House’s eyes immediately zeroed in on your reaction. You froze the moment you saw him, your body tensing as if bracing for impact. Your hand gripped the edge of your tray so tightly that your knuckles turned white. The man leaned in closer than necessary, his voice too low for House to hear but his posture radiating arrogance.

House’s grip on his cane tightened, his jaw clenching as he watched the interaction. Your eyes darted around the hallway, looking for an escape, and for a moment, House considered stepping in. He could already feel the satisfaction of smashing his cane against the man’s shin.

But then, you managed to say something that made the man back off. He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking as he stepped away. House caught the way his eyes lingered on you, as if he were sizing you up, before he finally walked off.

You stood there for a moment, visibly shaken, before you turned and hurried down the hallway, your head down.

House didn’t waste any time. As soon as he saw you return to your office, he followed, barging in without knocking.

"Who the hell was that?" he demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.

You jumped at the sound of his voice, your head snapping up from your paperwork. "House, what are you—"

"The guy in the hallway," he interrupted, stepping closer. "Tall, greasy smile, too much cologne. Who is he?"

You stiffened, your eyes narrowing defensively. "It’s none of your business."

"Wrong answer," he shot back, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. "You looked like you were about to crawl out of your skin when he showed up. So, I’ll ask again: who is he?"

You stood, crossing your arms over your chest. "I told you, it’s nothing. Just drop it, House."

"Drop it?" He scoffed, leaning on his cane as he loomed closer. "You’re jumpier than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and now there’s some creep skulking around the hospital, making you look like you’ve seen a ghost. But sure, I’ll just ‘drop it.’ Great plan."

Your jaw tightened, and you turned away from him, busying yourself with the papers on your desk. "I don’t need you playing detective. I’m fine."

House’s voice softened, but his frustration was still palpable. "You’re not fine. You’re lying to me, and you’re lying to yourself."

"I’m not lying!" you snapped, spinning around to face him. "I just don’t need your help, okay? I can handle it."

"Yeah, because handling it is working so well for you," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What’s next? Waiting until he corners you in an empty room again?"

The color drained from your face, and House instantly regretted his words. He hadn’t meant to push that button, but the reaction confirmed what he’d suspected.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you said quietly, your voice trembling.

"Then tell me," he urged, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Because if you don’t, I’m going to find out anyway."

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I can’t."

"Why not?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Because it won’t change anything!" you shouted, your voice breaking. "Security doesn’t care, HR doesn’t care, and the only thing I’m going to get out of this is more trouble. So just... leave it alone, House. Please."

For the first time in a long time, House was at a loss for words. He wanted to argue, to tell you that you were wrong, that he could fix this. But the defeat in your voice, the pain in your eyes—it stopped him cold.

"I’m not going to let this go," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "Not until he’s gone."

You didn’t respond. Instead, you turned away, wiping at your eyes as you tried to pull yourself together.

House watched you for a moment longer, his chest tight with anger and guilt. Then, without another word, he turned and left your office, his mind already racing with plans to deal with the man who had dared to hurt you.

The tension between you and House was growing unbearable. He wanted to help you, to protect you, and—if he were honest—he wanted nothing more than to deliver a brutal beating to the stranger who had reduced you to a shadow of your former self. But you remained steadfast in your refusal to open up to him.

Your condition had worsened noticeably. You were pale, thinner than usual, with dark circles under your eyes. You seemed distant, distracted, almost as if you were walking through a fog. The vibrant energy that usually defined you had dimmed, and House hated it. He hated feeling powerless, hated that you were suffering in silence.

Frustrated, he had tried to dig up information on the man you had interacted with, but no one seemed to know anything about him. It was as though the guy had vanished, leaving nothing behind but the fear he had instilled in you.

Then Jason appeared again.

You were in a cramped storage room, rifling through files and patient charts, when you felt someone come up behind you. Your body tensed immediately, the air around you thick with dread. Slowly, you turned to see him—Jason, with that same smug grin on his face that made your stomach churn.

Before you could react, he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Panic surged through you like ice in your veins. The small room suddenly felt suffocating, the walls closing in as Jason stepped closer.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound firm.

Jason’s smile widened, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl. “You know what I want,” he said casually, as if this were a normal conversation.

You backed away, trying to keep distance between you, but there was nowhere to go. “You need to leave,” you said, trying to summon every ounce of authority you could muster.

Instead of listening, he reached for you. His hands were rough and insistent as he grabbed your arm, pulling you closer. You tried to push him away, but he was stronger, and his grip tightened.

Jason leaned in, his face far too close to yours. “Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his breath hot and sickening against your skin.

Your heart raced as panic overtook you. This is it, you thought. This is really happening.

But something inside you snapped. Fueled by adrenaline and sheer survival instinct, you shoved him as hard as you could. Jason stumbled back just enough for you to twist away from his grasp and lunge for the door.

In your frantic attempt to escape, you tripped, falling hard against the doorframe. Pain shot through your wrist as you landed awkwardly, but you managed to scramble to your feet and fling the door open.

Jason stood there, chuckling darkly as he watched you flee down the hallway. “You can’t avoid me forever,” he called after you. “I’ll get what I want eventually.”

His words echoed in your ears long after you had escaped.

A few hours later, House found you in the clinic. You were holding your wrist close to your chest, trying to hide the pain, but he wasn’t fooled. He noticed everything: the way you flinched at sudden noises, the way your eyes darted nervously around the room, as if expecting Jason to appear at any moment.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, turning away.

House wasn’t having it. He grabbed a stool and sat down beside you, gesturing for you to show him your wrist. When you hesitated, he gave you a pointed look. “Unless you want me to guess and get it completely wrong, let me see it.”

Reluctantly, you extended your arm. House examined your wrist with surprising gentleness, his fingers brushing over the tender area with a care that was uncharacteristic for him.

“You’ve got a mild sprain,” he said after a moment. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

House’s piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. “Don’t lie to me,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual sarcasm.

You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you. “It’s nothing, House. Just let it go.”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not this time. You’re jumpy, you’re not sleeping, and now you’re hurt. Who did this to you?”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you—it was too much. You felt the dam you had built around your emotions begin to crack.

“I can’t,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes.

“Yes, you can,” he pressed, his tone softening. “Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it. Just tell me.”

Under the weight of his concern, the floodgates opened. You broke down, sobbing as you finally told him everything. From the first consultation with Jason, to his increasingly aggressive behavior, to the terrifying encounter in the storage room.

House listened in silence, his jaw tightening and his hands gripping his cane so hard his knuckles turned white. When you finished, he sat back, his face unreadable but his eyes burning with anger.

“That son of a—” he muttered under his breath, standing abruptly.

You flinched at his sudden movement, and he immediately softened. Setting his cane aside, he hesitated for a moment before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into a gentle embrace.

For a man who was often so abrasive, so rough around the edges, his touch was surprisingly tender. He held you as you cried into his chest, murmuring quiet reassurances that he would handle everything, that you were safe with him.

House wasn’t just angry—he was enraged. Seeing you like this, so broken and vulnerable, ignited something in him that he hadn’t felt in years. A protective instinct he couldn’t ignore.

But first, he focused on you. He made sure your wrist was properly bandaged, insisted you rest, and even called Wilson to cover your shifts for the rest of the day.

As you lay curled up on his couch, exhausted but safe, House sat in his chair, his mind racing. Jason had no idea what kind of storm he had unleashed. And House? He was going to make sure Jason never had the chance to hurt you—or anyone else—ever again.

House wasn’t just angry—he was enraged. Seeing you like this, so broken and vulnerable, ignited something in him that he hadn’t felt in years. A protective instinct he couldn’t ignore.

But first, he focused on you. He made sure your wrist was properly bandaged, insisted you rest, and even called Wilson to cover your shifts for the rest of the day.

As you lay curled up on his couch, exhausted but safe, House sat in his chair, his mind racing. Jason had no idea what kind of storm he had unleashed. And House? He was going to make sure Jason never had the chance to hurt you—or anyone else—ever again.

Jason was in the hospital cafeteria the next day, leaning casually against a table as if he owned the place. House spotted him instantly. That smug grin Jason wore was enough to make House’s blood boil, but he forced himself to stay calm—for now.

House sauntered over, leaning heavily on his cane as he approached. “Jason,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fancy seeing you here. Again.”

Jason turned, surprised but not intimidated. “Dr. House, right? I heard about you. The genius doctor with the lousy bedside manner.”

House smirked, but his eyes were icy. “That’s me. And you’re the creep who’s been stalking my colleague.”

Jason stiffened but quickly masked it with a cocky laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” House said, his tone deadly. He stepped closer, his cane tapping ominously against the floor. “You see, I know everything about you now. Your pathetic little job, your failed relationships, and—oh, this is my favorite—those online forums where you like to brag about your ‘conquests.’”

Jason’s grin faltered, and House pressed on. “Here’s the deal. You leave her alone, or I’ll make sure everyone you’ve ever met knows exactly what kind of person you are. Your boss, your family, your friends—assuming you have any left.”

Jason’s face darkened. “You can’t prove anything.”

House leaned in, his voice low and menacing. “Try me.”

Jason didn’t take the warning seriously. House knew he wouldn’t—it wasn’t in his nature. So House set his trap.

Using the information he’d gathered, House manipulated Jason into returning to the hospital under the guise of another consultation. When Jason arrived, House was waiting.

He led Jason to an empty exam room, locking the door behind him. Jason frowned, sensing something was off.

“What’s this about?” Jason asked, his bravado starting to crack.

“Oh, just a little chat,” House said casually, leaning against the counter. “You see, I’ve got a friend in law enforcement. He’s very interested in hearing about your... extracurricular activities.”

Jason scoffed, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You have nothing on me.”

House smirked, pulling out a folder and slapping it onto the counter. Inside were printed screenshots, surveillance photos, and a detailed timeline of Jason’s harassment. “This says otherwise.”

Jason paled. “You can’t do this.”

“Watch me,” House said, his voice like steel.

House wasn’t content with just scaring Jason. He wanted him to feel the same helplessness you had felt.

He had arranged for a security guard to escort Jason out of the hospital, but not before a very public confrontation. House made sure the team—and half the hospital staff—were present as Jason was marched out, humiliated and furious.

“You’re done here,” House said loudly, his voice carrying through the hallway. “And if you ever come near her again, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

The sight of Jason’s humiliation didn’t erase the pain he had caused you, but it was a start.

House wasn’t done yet. He sent an anonymous tip to Jason’s employer, detailing his predatory behavior and providing evidence. Within days, Jason was fired. His reputation was in tatters, his social circle abandoned him, and he was left scrambling to piece his life back together.

House made sure Jason knew exactly who was behind his downfall. A single note, left on Jason’s car, read:

Next time you think about hurting someone, remember this. And remember me.

House returned to his apartment that evening, where you were waiting. You looked better—still fragile, but there was a spark of relief in your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Did you... do something?” you asked hesitantly, sensing that something had changed.

House shrugged, his expression carefully neutral. “Let’s just say Jason won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Tears filled your eyes, and before House could react, you threw your arms around him. He stiffened at first, but then his cane clattered to the floor as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

House held you tighter, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Nobody messes with you. Not on my watch.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt safe. And for the first time in years, House felt like he had done something right.

[something-tofightfor]

A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 3

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 8,953

Summary: Learning more about Pero - and his motivations is eye opening. Not only does it give you a better understanding of him as a man, but it makes a great deal of his behavior make sense.

Moving forward never comes without a few setbacks, though.

Rating: M: language. (warnings: talking about childhood trauma, Pero's injury, bullying, Pero and William's work - nothing in detail)

Author's Note:

Sorry this took so long to get out, but it's here now so please enjoy. I thought this would be the last part ... but in true Rachael fashion, it isn't. Hope you don't mind extending the holiday season into mid January.

The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!

*dividers by @/strangergraphics

You placed the order as he drove, and by the time you’d arrived at Pero’s place, everything was in motion. It would take just under an hour to get delivered, which gave you some time to talk. He led you inside, guiding you with one hand on your back. “It is not much, but it is mine.” 

Even though he’d told you it was two bedrooms, it was smaller than you anticipated based on what you knew about him. But it’s perfect for a single person. “It’s cozy.” Turning around in a slow circle, you unzipped your jacket as you spoke. “I really like it, Pero.” 

The walls were light, but almost everything else was dark - furniture, shelving and window coverings included. He had a comfortable looking recliner on one side of the living room, and a large couch on the other, sitting just behind what looked like an antique wooden coffee table. Another quick look around revealed a dining room table large enough for two, a small kitchen with a set of pots and pans hanging from hooks on the wall, and a door that likely led out to a patio and the back yard. 

“I use the second bedroom as an office.” He showed you down the hallway, pointing out the bathroom and his bedroom, both of those doors pulled mostly shut. “William tells me I need to get a cat to keep me company.” 

“You should.” You turned around to look at him. “I think a cat could break through even your grumpiness.” He wrinkled his nose but didn’t disagree, instead pointing you back out and toward the living room. “And you could leave a cat alone for a couple days if you ever went out of town, too.” 

“That would be good.” He went into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” You did, but instead of asking what your choices were, you went into the kitchen to look yourself, peering over his shoulder and into the refrigerator. “I have wine. That would be -”

“Pero.” You rested your hand against his back again, feeling him stiffen briefly at your touch. “Look at me for a second.” He stood back up and spun toward you, his eyes betraying him: he was nervous. “I don’t expect anything from coming here.” Taking a deep breath, you continued. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened at my house, we don’t have to. If you don’t want to talk about what I said earlier today to Christina, we don’t have to. You invited me here for pizza, and that -”

“I want to talk about those things.” He stepped closer, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. “I want to talk about them very much. But I also …” He reached for you with his other hand, Pero’s fingers sliding up the length of your arm before he settled his palm against your shoulder. “I also want to kiss you, if you’ll let me.” 

“I’ve been waiting all fucking night for you to do that.” He moved first again, stepping forward to push you back against the edge of the counter as his arms went around you. Pero held you close and paused just before he kissed you, inhaling through his nose. “Pero.” You whispered his name and that was all he needed. 

His kiss that time was purposeful, the ends of his mustache tickling your upper lip when your mouths met. You put your hands against his sides, urging him to stay close. Finally. Pero groaned, the sound low, and when you heard it you felt your fingers curl. That noise. “No.” He backed away, shaking his head. “No, we haven’t…”

“This answers one of my questions.” You took as deep a breath as you could. “My porch, it wasn’t … you don’t regret it.” 

“I don’t.” He shook his head slowly. “I have not stopped thinking about it … about you since that night.” Pero’s hands dropped to your waist. “When you turned around to look at me, I almost … I almost rushed forward again.” 

“I did too.” You laughed quietly, closing your eyes. “I wanted to. But I didn’t want to scare you. I figured I’d already gotten lucky enough with a kiss that if I pushed my luck, it would … not end well.” 

“I told you I am not good at this.” He wet his lips, dragging his tongue slowly over them. “I don’t like … it isn’t easy for me to tell people how I feel.” It was a gamble, but you decided to go for it. 

“Then don’t tell me.” You leaned in, turning your head so that you could softly press your lips to his bruised cheek. “Show me, Pero.” You’d have plenty of time to talk afterward - and you wondered if Pero would be more open to talking once he knew for sure that you had actual feelings for him, too. 

“Show you?” You nodded, meeting his eyes again. “Really?” 

“Yes.” Reaching up, you pushed the hair back from his brow, guiding it behind his ear. “I’ve got a feeling that there’s a lot more in there waiting to come out, and I think you’ve been holding yourself back.” You were right - you could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he carried himself. But I don’t want him to. “You don’t have to ask my permission to kiss me. If I didn’t want you to, you’d know.” 

“And you don’t have to approach me like I am a scared animal.” He frowned, brow furrowed. “You always hesitate before you touch me. It is not necessary.” 

“I’ll remember that.” Stroking the back of his neck, you took a deep breath. “Might take me some time to get used to it because I’ve had to keep my distance for so long, but …” He ducked his head, lips finding the edge of your jaw. “Oh, you…” Pero kept going, lips trailing over your skin toward your chin and then up, his mouth landing on the corner of yours before he paused and then turned his head inward. “Pero, please. I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t -”

He didn’t keep you waiting. Pero’s lips crashed into yours, and that time, they were already parted. Finally. Finally, it’s… You opened your mouth, too, and even though you’d vowed to let him lead, you didn’t think twice before you flicked your tongue against his lip and then past it, Pero’s meeting it immediately. 

You’d started the kiss, but he deepened it, moving his hands from your waist up so that one of them was flat against your back and the other curved around the back of your head. He tasted like the coffee he’d had as you left the venue, and when you sighed into the kiss, he took the opportunity to graze your lower lip with his teeth. 

You tightened the fingers you had in his hair, and that made Pero growl, the sound accompanied by another swipe of his tongue against yours and then more teeth, that time biting down and not letting go right away. “How is that?” He broke the kiss to breathe, but didn’t back away, instead dragging the tip of his nose along the side of yours. “For showing you?” 

“It’s a good start.” You fought to catch your breath, too, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “Fuck, Pero. I have no idea how you don’t have women beating down your door after kissing them like that.” He laughed then, finally stepping away and crossing his arms. “Why is that funny?”

“You think I kiss everyone like that?” He shook his head, eyes locked with yours. “Not a chance. That is the result of it taking this long to kiss you for the first time.” You laughed too, and reached for him, pulling him into a tight hug. “And now you have made good on what you said to Christina today.” He winked at you, and your response was to close your eyes and groan. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. I just didn’t like her assuming …” Shit. You trailed off, feeling like you’d overstepped again while apologizing for overstepping earlier. “I have no right to assume anything either, but it was just … I couldn’t stop myself.” 

“I don’t want you to.” He reached for you, using one finger to tip your chin up to bring your head level. “I’ve never had anyone do that for me before.” He frowned briefly, but it was more contemplative than anything else. “Claim me? It… I was not expecting it.” His lips lifted into a smile - small but genuine - and he continued. “I liked it.” 

It made you feel better, especially since you knew how difficult it probably was for him to admit that to you. “That’s good to know.” You reached out, taking his hand and linking your fingers together. “Can I be honest with you?” He nodded, flexing his fingers. “I think it would be really easy to get carried away with you. I think that if I got the chance, I’d like to let that happen.” He smirked at your words, but didn’t speak. “We only have one more event together before your assignment ends, and then who knows what you’ll have to -”

“Unless there’s an emergency, we’re done from Christmas Eve through the first week of January. William and Lin are going on vacation.” He gestured to the living room. “And I planned on staying on that couch and doing absolutely nothing for as much of that time as possible.” Pero said your name. “Unless you wanted to see me then. I know you agreed to three “dates” but -” 

“Yes.” You pushed off of the counter and closed the distance between you again. “I would like that.” And… “I’ve also got some time off and a very comfortable couch in my house that you can use, too.” The smile that lit up his face felt like an early present, and you returned it immediately. I wish he’d smile more. Maybe I’ll be able to make it happen. “The food will be here soon, won’t it?” 

He looked over his shoulder and at the clock on the stove. “It will. Where would you like to eat?” 

“It’s your house.” He stepped away from you and back toward the refrigerator. “You choose.”

“Couch. Then we can put on the TV.” He pulled out the bottle of wine. “If I drink some of this, I will still be able to take you home. But if you’d rather I didn’t, I -”

“I trust you.”   You pointed. “But I also want some water.” He nodded, and as the two of you headed back into the living room, you realized that even though having someone in his house wasn’t common for Pero, he was handling things well. And when you told him as much, he sighed, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. 

“It is very … I’m surprised I am this comfortable with you here.” He held out his other hand, motioning for you not to interrupt before he finished. “Are you comfortable?” 

“Pero, we just made out in your kitchen for a solid ten minutes. Yes I’m comfortable here.” He held back a smile at that, but only barely, and it made you buzz with happiness. “I do have a question for you, though.” He gestured for you to take a seat on the couch and then sat next to you, leaning back against the pillows. “You realize that Christina was hitting on you earlier, right?” He nodded slowly, mouth set in a thin line. “And that proves that women are interested in you… like, beautiful, successful, women?” 

“Her success does not matter to me.” He frowned. “And there is a difference between being interested in me and being interested in me keeping her safe.”

“You offered to protect me if I ever needed it, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t… appealing to me.” You rubbed your hands together, looking around the room. “But she wouldn’t have kissed you like that if she wasn’t attracted to you. You have to know that. I think… I think you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that everyone else must feel a certain way about you that you actually believe it’s true.” 

“Maybe.” He took a deep breath. “But it changes nothing. I don’t want to stop working with William. I don’t want to leave home for months at a time. And I would never kiss someone I worked for. It is unprofessional.” 

“But you don’t really work for her now.” You looked down at your hands, hating the uncertainty that filtered into your voice. “And after the party, you won’t, so -”

“I have no interest in Christina aside from finishing the job we were hired to do.” Pero reached over, using two fingers to tilt your chin upward. “And you know very well just how … difficult it can be to change my mind.” He smiled at you, the expression softening his features. “How long did it take you to do it?”

“Years.” You bit your lip. “I know I’m being stupid, Pero. But this is still so new, I can’t help it.” He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the doorbell rang. “Pizza’s here.” He closed his eyes and nodded, pulling his hand away before he stood. 

“Plates are in the kitchen, above the sink.” 

Even though you talked while you ate, the conversation stayed light, and never circled back around to what you’d been talking about in the kitchen. Pero told you about jobs that he and William had worked, and you told him about some of your coworkers - and more about yourself. It happened naturally, work stories leading into revealing more about yourself outside of the office, along with telling him about your family and friends. 

He listened intently, giving you time to talk while he chewed through mouthfuls of pizza, but Pero said very little about himself, even though you left it open for him to do so. And though you wanted to give him time and space to only tell you what he was comfortable with, part of you wondered if he’d only elaborate if he was directly asked questions. 

So once the plates were cleared and the leftovers were in the refrigerator, you and Pero got comfortable on the couch again, the TV playing quietly in the background. “You said you were born in Spain?” He nodded, fingers smoothing over his mustache. “How’d you end up here then?” 

“It is a long story.” He paused, shaking his head. “No. That is a lie. It is a short story that I do not tell many people.” Pero sat up, putting his hands on his knees. “My birth parents were very young when they had me. They were not ready to be parents, and could not keep me. I went through a few different homes over there, and none of them worked out. I ended up coming here when I was almost 11.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “The couple that adopted me were … they gave me everything, but they could not give me friends.” Pero looked over at you, a sad smile on his face. “I tried very hard to make the other kids like me, but it did not work. They avoided me. They teased me. As I got older, I began doing foolish things, just for attention.” 

“Pero, you don’t have to -”

“No. You should know. If we are going to …” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was only sixteen when some classmates dared me to go into a building that had been closed off. It was very dark and I did not have a flashlight.” Pero wet his lips. “I think they planned to have someone inside to scare me, but I tripped and fell. I hurt myself badly.” He pointed at his face, making a slashing motion with his fingers. “I should have lost my eye. But I didn’t. And afterward… I just did not care anymore whether or not they liked me or talked to me.” 

“Oh, Pero, that…” Reaching over, you put your hand on his knee, squeezing it. “Kids are the worst. There’s no one more cruel than a high school kid.” He didn’t say anything in response, and for a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, thinking. You tried to imagine teenage Pero, attempting to make friends in a new and strange country. You wondered what had happened after the dare - if the other kids had felt bad, or if they’d apologized, or if they’d just gone further in their dismissal of him as he healed, making him more of an outcast. He didn’t deserve it. “When did you meet William?” 

“After I graduated, I did not want to go to college.” He scoffed. “My parents gave me the option, but they just wanted me to be happy with what I did.” You understood that, and as encouragement for him to continue, you reached over, setting your hand on top of his. “I am strong, so I did more of what I’d done in school and took physical jobs.” He smiled for the first time in long minutes. “I worked for a moving company. I did landscaping. I worked security at different venues.” He shrugged. “Anything people would pay me to do, I did. No one cared what I looked like or how friendly I was as long as I got the job done and didn’t ask too many questions.” 

“How strong are you? I have a chair I need -” Pero reached over, shoving your knee with his hand - but as you both laughed, he didn’t pull it away, instead squeezing and then leaving it in place. 

“Very strong. But you asked about William, so be quiet and I will tell you.” Miming the act of zipping your lips, you widened your eyes at him. “After he retired from the military, he started working the same kinds of jobs as me. We met while working during football season. He and Lin had just moved here for her job, and we were assigned to the same team.”

“Let me guess. He started talking and wouldn’t stop?” Pero nodded, his thumb moving slowly over the outside of your knee. “He does that. It’s kind of annoying.” 

“Very annoying. But somehow, with William, I didn’t… he wasn’t talking to me out of pity. He just wanted to talk to someone, and I was a good listener.” That didn’t come as a shock, but Pero wasn’t done. “Lin’s family has money, and there were a few times they needed security for things they did - events and trips. They paid William to find people to provide it, and he asked me to help. I did, because even though he was annoying, I did not mind the work.” 

“And you became actual friends.” He nodded. “How long did that take?” 

“Only six months.” Pero rolled his eyes. “Lin is very persistent.” That made you laugh again, and even Pero’s scowl was less severe than usual. “And when William came to me and told me he wanted to open a company of his own - with just the two of us? I could not say no.”  

That had been before you’d met any of them, because when you’d gotten to know Lin and William, he’d already been working with Pero, and the business’ reputation was well established. “It’s good that you met him, then.” Pero nodded. “It’s just the two of you? Doesn’t that limit the -”

“We have a few other people we can call if we need them. Some of William’s old military contacts have been reliable in the past.” He looked down. “But yes, mostly it is just us, because people trust us. And that is …” He looked up and at you again, a pensive expression on his face. “I’m still not used to that.” 

“But you’re good at what you do.” He nodded. “So why wouldn’t people trust you to do your job? In your line of work, I feel like word of mouth is -”

“Very important, yes.” He inched closer, averting his eyes briefly. “But there are times when we …” He gestured at his bruised face with his free hand. “Do not deserve that trust.” He feels like he failed because he got hurt? But he said he handled it. He said… “I do not like having to get physical, but sometimes … sometimes it is unavoidable.” 

“Have you ever seriously hurt someone, Pero?” You asked the question before you could stop yourself, and once it was out, you worried that he wouldn’t answer. 

“Yes.” He looked you in the eye as he answered. “Do not ask me if I have done worse than that, because I cannot answer.” What? You stiffened, but didn’t move away. Does that mean he’s killed someone? “The job, it does not always … we don’t stick around. I only know what happens while I’m there.” What kinds of jobs do they take? 

“Is that another reason you don’t want to get close to anyone?” Your voice was steady, and you hoped that helped convince him you weren’t reacting poorly to his words. “Because you’re afraid that they wouldn’t… accept what you do?”

“Yes.” The word was accompanied with a single nod. “I don’t want to lie to someone, and unless I tell them exactly what I do, I’d have to.” 

“But you just told me.” You spoke quietly, heart pounding as understanding coursed through you. “So what does that mean?” 

“I don’t know.” He smiled, but it was short-lived. “I don’t usually do this.” You had a lot of thoughts, but didn’t know how to vocalize them. Pero opening up to you in such a big way was unexpected, and you knew that if it felt that way for you, it must have been even more of a shock for him. “I understand if you don’t… if knowing this makes you uncomfortable.” He pressed his lips together. “I did not mean to tell you all of it.” 

“I’m glad you did.” You thought for a few seconds and then moved even closer, saying his name softly. “Thank you for trusting me.” It still wasn’t everything - and you knew it. But what Pero had revealed to you was more than enough to make you look at him differently, and with more understanding. “Did you really think that I knew the nitty gritty parts of what you and William do? That isn’t … something that Lin and I talk about. And William and I -”

“I thought you would just assume.” He waved a hand in the air between you. “You watch enough TV to know that private security isn’t always safe and simple for anyone involved.” 

“Pero, we need to work on this.” You lifted a hand and reached for him, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. “You can’t just assume that I assume things. And you can’t write shit off before you give it a chance to happen.” He leaned into your touch, the expression on his face relaxing slightly. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but if you and I are going to be friends, we need to have an understanding.” 

“You want to be my friend?” He blinked, and used the tip of his tongue to wet his lips. “Just a friend?” You hadn’t meant it like that, but it didn’t surprise you that he’d chosen that to focus on. 

“Ideally, we’d be more than friends.” You closed your eyes, exhaling. “But even if it doesn’t get to that point, it’s still true that you can’t be friends with someone you hide from.” Pero was silent, and when you reopened your eyes, you were worried that you wouldn’t like whatever expression he chose as a response. 

“It really does not scare you that I am capable of violence?” You heard uncertainty in his voice, immediately understanding that Pero was completely out of his element with you. “Bruises and scars and secret jobs wouldn’t make you want to -”

“Pero.” You took a breath and then leaned in, kissing him on the lips. “I’m not afraid of you. The rest of it… I don’t like to think about it, but it’s not enough to make me run for the hills right now, no.” He considered your words for long seconds, his lips parted and eyes searching your face. Go for it. Just do it. “You just told me that you spent years trying to make friends and get close to people but it didn’t work. Now I’m trying to get close to you, and -” 

He hauled you closer, your eyes widening as he leaned back into the corner of the couch, pulling you with him. “Is this close enough?” He mumbled the words before he kissed you, lips soft as they pressed to yours. “Because I think we could get closer.” 

It stunned you how quickly Pero seemed to waver between moments of uncertainty and confidence, and you wondered if it had been that way for him for his whole life, or just when it came to friendships and relationships. He doesn’t seem uncertain about his abilities or his competence, it’s just … people. “This is good.” You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your palm. “Are you alright with it?” 

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, Pero shifted more, moving so that his back was against the backrest of the couch and he was laying on his side. He urged you closer, and without giving yourself time to think about it, you pulled your legs up and stretched them out, laying on your side to face him. He draped an arm over you, fingers lazily moving against the center of your back. 

You stared at each other, both of you adjusting to the new - and unexpected - position you were in. He didn’t look afraid or unsure; for the first time, Pero seemed like he was comfortable with the proximity to you, and the fact that he’d been the one to initiate it. “How much longer would you have waited?”

“For?” You raised a hand, using two fingers to push hair away from his brow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“For me to get my head out of my ass and speak to you.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “To do something that was not shut down any conversation you tried to have.” 

“I wasn’t waiting for you.” You sighed and continued to move your fingers through the softness of his curls. “I’ve dated. I’ve always been interested in you, but I knew it was pointless to just … hope that someday you’d change your mind and decide you wanted more than saying hello or asking how I was.” His hand stopped moving and his fingers curled inward, pressing against your back. “And part of me thinks that without this assignment and your need to blend in, that wouldn’t have changed.” 

“William and Lin have been encouraging me to …” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Quote ‘get over my shit and tell you how I feel.” You stifled a laugh, and even Pero’s lips twitched. “You would have worn me down eventually, unless you just … stopped trying.” 

“Three years is a long time, Pero.” You shifted your hips and his hand dropped lower, gliding over your lower back and stopping on your hip. “And I honestly thought you hated me, so … I’m not sure how much longer I would have kept at it.” You hadn’t known the words would come until you spoke them, and from his reaction, you knew that he could tell you were just as surprised as he was that you’d admitted it. “I can only handle so much rejection.” 

“That makes two of us.” He sighed again, closing the distance and turning his head so that he could speak into your ear. “I never hated you. It was always the opposite.” He squeezed your hip as he kissed your cheek. “And I am glad you did not give up on me.”

It felt good to be held by him, and it didn’t seem necessary to reply… so you didn’t. Instead, you inched even closer, tucking your head against his body and closing your eyes. Things were moving fast, even by your standards, and that meant that for Pero, it must have been at an unthinkable pace. 

“This is nice.” You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “Let me know when you want me to get up, or when you want to take me home or -”

“If I pull the blanket down, we could sleep here.” The words startled you, and you backed away, lips parted and eyes wide. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Would you want that?” He moved his hand slowly, sliding it back up and pushing your shirt with it. “Oh, you…” You shivered at the way it felt to have his skin touch yours for the first time, his fingertips moving against your side. “Just to sleep?”

“If you would be comfortable.” He looked scared but certain. “Sleeping in those clothes, I mean.” You didn’t like the idea of sleeping in your jeans, but you did have a sleeveless shirt on beneath the sweatshirt you’d chosen - and you hated the idea of saying no to something you’d fantasized about for months. I can unbutton my jeans. It’ll be fine. 

“I’d like that.” You nodded. “What about you?”

“My clothes are right down the hall.” He smiled, tapping his finger against your skin. “I can go change.” 

“Do you have a toothbrush I can use? Or mouthwash? I don’t want to go to bed without -”

“I do.” Pero sighed and then reluctantly sat up, which forced you to do the same. “Come. I will show you.” 

He let you use the bathroom while he changed. The whole time, you tried to ignore the fact that you were going to spend the night with Pero on his couch, which meant extremely close quarters. It’s not the bed. It’s not going to lead to anything. You figured that that was why he hadn’t mentioned the bed; not because it would result in you having sex, but instead because he didn’t want to imply that he was thinking of sex. 

But it was impossible not to let your mind wander when you emerged from the bathroom and saw him leaning against his door frame, arms crossed loosely over his chest - and the light gray t-shirt he wore - with his hip popped, dark gray sweatpants hanging low enough on them that there was a sliver of skin visible at his waist. I’m fucked. 

“I put a second pillow on the couch. He gestured with his chin. “I will be out in a few minutes. Anything you need from the kitchen, please take.” You nodded and then turned away, biting down hard on your lip as you headed back into the living room. 

If Pero’s choice in pajamas had such an effect on you, you could only imagine how you’d react to seeing him without clothes. If I ever do. It only took you a minute or so to get a couple bottles of water from the fridge and set them both on coasters atop the coffee table, putting them within reach. You removed your sweatshirt then, folding it it - and your bra - and setting them over and onto the chair before your hands moved to your waist, and the button there. 

“If you take those off, it’s going to be even more difficult for me to only think about sleeping.” He emerged from the hallway, arms swinging by his sides. “But if that’s what you want…” He winked at you, pausing long enough to flip the light switch, which plunged the room into darkness aside from the glow of the TV. “I will not stop you.” 

“I’m just unbuttoning them.” You did it as you spoke, watching as his eyes dropped to watch your hands. “Sorry to disappoint.” Was that an invitation? “Do you have to be up early tomorrow or anything?”

“No. You?” You shook your head as he took a seat on the couch, reaching for the large blanket that was folded and resting on the back. “Good. We can sleep in.”  

Pero laid down on his side, and you laid in front of him, choosing to face him instead of put your back to his chest. As the blanket settled over the two of you, Pero’s arm moved back into place - but that time, he didn’t wait to push his hand beneath your shirt, resting his palm against your lower back. 

That gave you the courage to do the same with him, but instead of leaving your hand low, you slid it up the center of his back, following the line of his spine. “Is this too much?”

“Never.” Voice thick, he continued. “If I trusted myself we would be sleeping in my bed.” I was right. He cleared his throat and then sighed, breath washing over your cheek. “I have wanted this with you for … too long.” 

“Well, now you’ve got it.” Tilting your head back, you kissed his stubbled chin. “Are you going to kiss me goodnight, or not?” It seemed that he’d been waiting for your invitation, because as soon as you finished your question, Pero’s mouth was on yours, his upper body angled so that it pressed against your chest. 

The kiss started slow, Pero taking your lower lip between his gently before releasing it, a quiet sigh escaping from deep in his throat. When you parted your lips and grazed one of his with your teeth, his touch on your side tightened, fingers digging into your skin. You wondered if you’d just caught him by surprise - or if his reaction meant that Pero liked a hint of pain with his pleasure. I hope I get to find out. 

He moved his hand up your side as the kiss deepened, Pero’s tongue poking between your lips at the same moment his fingertips touched the underside of one breast - and you moaned into his mouth, back arching slightly. 

With anyone else, it would have been embarrassing that all it took was one simple touch to get that kind of response out of you, but with Pero, you didn’t care. He broke the kiss, murmuring the words such pretty sounds, and then trailed a series of kisses across your cheek and down, over your jaw. Each kiss was accompanied by a swipe of his thumb, the rough pad of it traveling over the swell of your chest. “Pero, I -” He circled your nipple with that same thumb and you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut. 

“You like that.” He spoke without lifting his mouth from your skin, instead nudging your head to the side with his nose and then dragging his lips over the column of your throat. Who the fuck wouldn’t? You freed your hand from beneath his shirt and buried your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, Pero’s mouth descending further toward the collar of your shirt. 

You felt the bite of his teeth against your skin, followed by his tongue soothing the same space, and you hummed, tightening your grip on his hair. “Keep doing that, please.” You forced the words out, pushing the hand trapped between your bodies beneath his so that you could grab at his hip - and when you did, you felt him through his sweats where he was pressed against your thigh. Oh, fuck. 

Testing your luck, you pulled him forward, urging him closer - and Pero rewarded you with a roll of his hips, the motion giving you a better idea of exactly what was waiting below his waist. And when he did that, you decided to push things even further, slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and back, following the curve of his body. 

Pero smiled against your throat, rocking his hips forward again and allowing you to feel the flex of muscle beneath your touch. But then he cleared his throat, hand staying in place as he raised his head. “I need to slow down.” 

“No you don’t. I wasn’t stopping you.” He smiled at your words, closing his eyes as he shook his head. “What?”

“You deserve better than a couch.” When he opened his eyes and met yours, you saw resolve in them, and any argument that you might have made died on your lips. I need to let him do this his way. “I did not invite you here tonight to end up in bed with you. I just wanted… to get to know you.” 

“I did say it would be easy to get carried away with you.” He nodded. “But if you want to stop, we’ll stop.” You gave him a squeeze and wrinkled your nose at the way his eyes flashed at the feeling of your touch. “I -”

“I do not want to, but we should.” He ducked down, mouth meeting yours again. “It will give us something to look forward to.” That was an understatement; you knew that all you’d look forward to was the time when Pero didn’t feel the need to hold himself back. As he settled back into place beside you, he pulled you with him, bringing you both back into the position you’d been in before the kiss. 

But he left his hand in place high on your side, the warmth of his palm comforting. “I’m glad that this job happened.” Snuggling closer to him, you sighed. “I’m glad we’re getting this chance.” He kissed your forehead but didn’t speak, hand slipping around to your back and stopping there. “Goodnight, Pero.” 

“Goodnight, you.” You felt him move as you shifted, too. When both of you were comfortable, you sighed again, arm tightening over his side. It felt good to be held by Pero, the deep, even breaths he was taking lulling you even closer to sleep as the moments passed. The TV’s volume was low enough that you could barely hear it, but aside from your breathing, that was the only other audible sound. I like this. I really like this. 

Time ticked by, and Pero’s breaths got slower and longer, though his hand didn’t move from where it rested. “Pero?” You spoke quietly, figuring that if he didn’t respond, you wouldn’t say anything else. But he grunted, the sound something that could have been your name. Good enough. “You don’t snore, do you?” 

“Maybe if you’re quiet for long enough, you will find out.” Cracking an eye open, you saw that he was glaring at you, but as soon as he noticed you looking, the expression changed to a smile, followed by his arm tightening. “Sleep. It has been a long day.” 

You couldn’t argue with that, and only minutes later, both of you were past the point of no return - neither of you snoring. 

You finished Christmas shopping over the next few days, stopping to pick up last minute gifts after work and wrapping while you relaxed after dinner. 

You usually bought things for Lin and William, but that year, you decided to get Pero something, too. You figured that if you handed the other gifts over on Christmas Eve, it would be weird not to have one for him. It wasn’t anything big - you bought a bottle of the wine you’d seen in his refrigerator and a gift card to one of the restaurants you’d talked about and he’d said he liked. 

But you signed the card that you put the gift card into the card differently than you signed the others, chewing on the end of the pen for long moments before you started writing. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Pero. I’m glad we finally made it happen - let’s not stop. 

The bag with his gift in it joined the ones for William and Lin on your kitchen counter, the colorful wrapping catching your attention each time you were in the room. 

The morning of Christmas Eve, you woke up before your alarm, giving yourself a few minutes to stare at the ceiling. This is it. Today is … Your mind wandered back to Pero, and waking up in his arms. It brought a smile to your face, the same way it had when it was actually happening, the muted morning sunlight filtering in through his blinds and giving you a clear view of his features. 

It was the first time you’d ever seen Pero truly relaxed - jaw slack, a lock of hair hanging over his eyes and all of the tension he usually carried in his body gone, the rise and fall of his chest at regular intervals. He was almost more handsome while sleeping than he was awake, and the best part of it was that even though you’d both shifted during the night, neither of you had let go of the other. 

You wondered if it was because of the forced proximity on the couch, or if unconsciously, the two of you just hadn’t wanted to separate after so long spent dancing around each other. Whatever the case, you didn’t care. You liked being in his arms, and if the kiss he’d given you immediately after opening his eyes was any indication, Pero felt the same way. 

The two of you spoke a little over the following days, but you were busy with work, and he and William were busy with their company, too, getting contracts set up for the new year as well as making contacts for potential future business. 

But each time your phone screen lit up with a message from him, you smiled. And every time you sent one back, you hoped that he was looking forward to reading it. It felt like the beginning of a new relationship, and even though there were no actual promises of it continuing after the party, you had a feeling that it would. 

Those kinds of thoughts got you through until early afternoon, when you got into the shower so that you could begin to get ready for the night. You spent a lot of time under the spray, the bathroom filling with steam and the scents of all of your different products. It calmed you, which you needed, and by the time you stepped back into your bedroom, robe wrapped tightly around your body, you’d convinced yourself that the night would be the actual start of something between you and Pero. Why wouldn’t it be? After the last couple weeks? 

You did your hair and makeup before you got dressed, paying careful attention to your reflection - and your overall appearance. Again, you wanted Pero to know that you’d taken care to look good for him, especially after learning about his past - and more about the way he viewed himself. 

Lin texted you while you were finishing with your clothes, telling you that when you got to their place, you should park on the street. You sent back a reply along with a thumbs up emoji, and just before you could set the phone back down, a new message came  though - that one from Pero. 

Should I shave? 

He’d included a picture, something that he hadn’t ever done before - a shot of himself in a mirror, his head turned to the side so that you could see his heavily stubbled cheeks. His hair was wet and slicked back, and there were telltale wet spots on his t-shirt, evidence that he’d recently showered. Thank you for putting a shirt on before you sent this, otherwise I would have dropped my phone. 

You thought for a few seconds and then typed a message back, chewing on the inside of your cheek the entire time. 

Up to you. I like how it looks either way, Pero. 

Truthfully, you wanted him to keep the stubble, and it was for a selfish reason. You wanted to feel it when he kissed you, the scrape of it dragging over your skin. The thought made you shiver, and sent you back to the memory of kissing him at his front door, Pero nuzzling against your cheek before whispering goodbye. 

But I have to say I’m partial to you keeping it. 

It took him a few seconds to respond, but when he did, it was just a single word, followed almost a minute later with another short message. 

Done. 

See you soon. 

You parked where Lin had instructed you to and then made your way up to the front door, carrying the box of gifts. After knocking once, you stepped inside, calling out for your friends. They didn’t answer, so you went into the living room and put the packages beneath the tree, standing back to admire the way it looked as you removed your coat. “You look amazing.” Turning your head toward the sound, you grinned at Lin, who was standing in the doorway. “He’s going to love that outfit.” Is he? 

You’d opted for a pair of high-waisted pants in a soft material, and a dark red long-sleeved shirt that had a lower cut neckline than you typically wore - but that had caught your eye while you finished shopping. You’d paired it with simple jewelry - a pair of necklaces and a sparkling bracelet on one wrist. It was likely more dressed down than many of the other party attendees would be, but you wanted to be comfortable… and ready, just in case. “I hope so.” You looked down and then back up at her, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. “I almost wore a dress, but it’s cold out, and I bought a new pair of boots but they wouldn’t have matched, so -”

“It’s perfect.” She stepped forward, reaching out to take your hands. “He’ll be here soon, William said he’s on his way.” Good. I’m excited. “Are you coming over tomorrow? We’ll be eating at four, and I think Tovar’s said he’ll come, too.” You hadn’t expected that; Pero had never been at a holiday gathering before, and part of you wondered if he’d opted not to come because you’d been invited. Not this year though. 

“I am.” You squeezed her hands and then pulled yours free, gesturing at the tree. “I put your presents under there, so we can open them after we eat.” She nodded, eyeing you up and down. “What?” 

“You look different.” Cocking her head to the side, she crossed her arms. “You haven’t said anything about what happened after the concert, but -”

“We’ll see what happens after tonight.” Your heart thumped, but you looked her in the eyes while you spoke. “I don’t want to jinx anything, Lin. But he and I will have time to talk, and -” You both turned toward the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps in the front hall. He’s here. 

“Tovar? Is that you? We’re in here!” Lin spoke up before you could, and only moments later, you watched as Pero stepped into the room, unzipping his jacket. You opened your mouth to say hello, but froze when you saw what he was wearing. 

Oh, he looks … I’ve never seen him dressed like … 

He’d kept the stubble. And even though his hair was styled, it still looked a little wild, the ends of it curling over his forehead and out from behind his ears. But it was his outfit that rendered you speechless. 

It did have plenty of buttons; Pero’s dress shirt was a charcoal gray color that had a slight shine to it, the material stretched over his broad frame - unbuttoned at the neck and tucked into a pair of fitted black pants. He’d traded his usual boots for dressier ones,  and when you brought your gaze back up, you watched as he reached over to set his jacket down on the back of a chair. 

That gave you a peek at his chest and wrist, and you actually gasped out loud at the glimpse you got of two pieces of silver jewelry: a thick chain around his neck, and one in the same style - though thinner - around his right wrist. 

You suddenly felt wildly underdressed, but when you watched his eyes widen as he looked you over, that changed. He looked at you with want, Pero’s gaze almost hungry as he closed the distance between you. I need him to look at me like that all the time. I need … wow.

“Hello.” Pero stopped just before he reached where you stood, turning his head toward Lin and smiling. “You look beautiful, Lin-Mae.” She gave him a wide smile and stepped forward, throwing her arms around him and telling him that he was being too kind. 

“I’ve had this dress for years. It was a gift from my mother right after William and I got married. I only wear it for special occasions.” 

“And you.” He turned back to you, reaching out for your hand and waiting until you took his to speak again. “Perfect.” That was a stretch, but you weren’t going to correct him. You maintained eye contact as he raised your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Hi.” Mouthing the word back at him, it took everything in you not to take the final two steps forward and pull him close for a kiss. 

“William is in his office.” Lin sighed. “You should go and see if he’s ready, Tovar. We have to leave in like fifteen minutes, so -” He nodded, giving your hand one final squeeze before dropping it. “We’ll be in the kitchen.” 

He turned away and toward the office while you and Lin went into the kitchen and took seats at the raised countertop. She stared at you but didn’t speak, and when she raised an eyebrow, you held up a hand. “Don’t even start. That was -”

“It’s good to see him like that with someone.” She spoke quietly, sighing as she reached over to put her hand on top of yours. “I’ve been hoping that he would open up. And it looks like he has.” She smiled at you. “And after only two nights? Impressive.” 

“Technically three, because we went out for coffee before the fundraiser. And a morning, because I spent the night at his place after the concert.” She gasped, and you had to bite your lip to hold back a laugh. Surprise. “Not like that. We just slept.” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” She scoffed. “I thought we were friends.” 

“We are. But that isn’t something that -”

“Was it all a lie?” You both turned toward the sound of his voice, finding Pero standing in the kitchen entryway with a small stack of papers in his hand. “Was any of the time you spent with me because you wanted to?”

“What?” You stood, taking a half step toward him. “Pero, what are you -” He held up the papers, sneering. 

“You are on the payroll, no? This is just a job to you? I am just a job to you?” He tightened his grip on the paper, the sound of it wrinkling loud in your ears. The contract. He found the contract. 

“It had to be official, yeah, because William needed to file it, so -” He laughed, the sound humorless, and then closed his eyes. “So I signed a contract, but -”

“I have paid women before.” He looked nowhere but at you when he opened his eyes, and you sucked in a breath at the hurt you saw in them. He isn’t mad. He’s just sad. I didn’t … but it’s just incidentals. Not paying me to … “But with them I knew exactly what I was getting.” He crossed the room and slapped the papers down onto the countertop before meeting your eyes again. “I trusted you. I told you things I have never told anyone. And for what?” He shook his head. “Enjoy your money. You will not need to spend more time with me tonight to earn the last of it.” 

William appeared in the hallway then, holding another stack of papers, the sound of Pero’s name spilling from his lips. “Tovar, you need to look at -”

“No. I need to look at nothing. All of you… you all knew. You planned this and did not tell me.” He pointed a finger at William. “I will finish this job tonight, but then I am done.” You gasped at that, and so did Lin. Even William’s eyes widened, his mouth still open. This makes no sense. That’s not what we … 

“Pero, please.” William moved forward, holding up the papers again. “If you just -” But instead of answering, he gave you one final look and then turned away, striding past William and back into the hallway. Moments later, the sound of the front door slamming made you flinch. He left. He left me here and he … 

“William, what the fuck just happened?” Lin got up, making her way to where her husband stood. “Tovar was fine in the living room, and then …” 

You finally moved, reaching for the papers that Pero had set down in front of you as your eyes welled up with tears. It doesn’t make sense. Yes, I took this as a job, but it isn’t… that’s not what … 

But when you started reading the top sheet of paper, it all made sense. 

Somehow, Pero had gotten his hands on the original version of the contract William had presented to you - and not on the updated one. 

Stay tuned for part 4!

[swifty-fox]

last lines tag

tagged by @blixabargelds thank u for the superstar content as always saint frankie

i will give a couple bc I think I've been tagged a few times

Love song

When John was fifteen, his sister barely more than walking, he’d been handed the monstrous task of watching for for an hour or two while his parents ran down to the grocery. At first, puffed up on the trust put in him, and still excited and proud over the prestigious role of older brother, he’d been attentive as a hen, watching her every step with near wolfish attention. Keeping her from any danger, real or imagined. But, he was a teenage boy, and a beautiful day outside, and their tiny apartment was as stifling as it was boring. And though he wasn’t entirely irresponsible, he did find himself growing bored; found his mind wandering as it tended to do any time he was forced to sit still, to be calm. Found himself gazing out the window, chin on crossed arms and kitchen chair tilted dangerously on two legs as he stared up at the blue sky and imagined himself atop a dragon’s back, sword held high. Or, once the inner embarrassment over childish things kicked in, a pilot at command of a great metal beast instead. 

So, in his distraction, he did not notice Edie stumbling her way closer to the oven left hot for that night’s dinner, did not see her reaching one chubby hand out for balance, her body not yet accustomed to the pull of gravity that came with walking on two feet.

Little Beasts P6

“Yes what?”

Gale’s better this time, quicker to respond, seemingly spurred on by the slow languid pace of a fuck John’s set them at. It doesn’t stop the red flush creeping down his neck, past John’s fingers and vanishing into that high, buttoned collar.

Another gritted, hissing groan, the stacks creaking faintly under Gale’s grip, a few of the records shifting.

“I came here for this,” he admits and John exhales shakily, quick like he’s been struck, “I wanted it like this.” 

Frog AU

Smiling at Marge, his ears moving upwards with the expression like a dogs, there were crinkles around his eyes, around his mouth, and even from the kitchen to the open door Gale can hear the bawdy timbre of his voice. 

For a moment, Gale allows himself to look. 

Marge catches his eye, waves in a quick curl of her fingers and then gestures him over. 

It’s enough to get the man looking over his shoulder, as handsome full on as in profile and Gale finds himself straightening his shoulders slightly. It’s morning, early enough that he’s wearing his hair loose around his shoulders instead of tied back off his face, dressed in plaid pajamas and a faded university t-shirt. He’s being given a once-over. 

Ex-military, Marge had said.

And Gale knows the type, knows the image he cuts and so he waits for some modicum of scorn, or disgust to cross his onlooker's face. But those blue eyes remain nothing beyond curious, a little tired like he’d not yet had his morning coffee.

“Gale, this is–”

“Bucky Egan,” he says, reaching out a hand for Gale to shake.

His hands aren’t much bigger than Gale’s fingers just as long and elegant, though broader, and calloused from hard work. Bucky gives Gale and a strong grip, and he gives it right back, giving him a friendly, controlled smile.

tagging @reallylilyreally @euph0riacc @hogans-heroes @feyd-meowtha (ghimme that new au baybee) @bcolfanfic

[dragonmasterhiccup]

"I think it was more the circumstances that made it difficult. My father...he actually was pushing for me to begin taking the role as chief not long before he... before he died."

Afterwards, Gobber told him as much, hoping to encourage Hiccup by telling him Stoick believed he was ready. The conversation only made the young chief feel worse, having run off from the opportunities he had to learn from Stoick...and being responsible for the string of events that caused the beloved leader's demise.

Clearing his throat, he gave a slight shake of his head. "Sorry, you uh, you probably don't need to know all the details. In short, he...he was a great man. Fearless, brave...selfless."

And Hiccup missed him so much.

Eyes cast downwards, he nodded. "Kindness will only get you so far," he repeated a little dryly before taking on a softer tone, "but to some, kindness is everything. To others? It's nothing, it's weak. But they're wrong. It's strength."

Brows raised, he replied, "Really?" A small smile started forming on his face, "I know that's a bit of a big deal for you, so...thank you."

Nodding, he said, "Then we'll take another look, apply more of Gothi's salve. If we do it enough, you shouldn't even have a scar. Especially since we were able to address it so quickly."

"I don't blame you. You didn't know me or Astrid yet. You just...you saw a human with a weapon next to your sister. If I were in your shoes, I would have reacted similarly."

Looking back at Kiara, he said, "It looks like you may be getting there as well, though I know it will take time to earn." It had been a good feeling, gaining Lyra's trust. He hoped to do the same with Kiara.

Having the two fae on Berk was a privilege, one he and Astrid would protect and guard so as not to lose it.

Berk was now a sanctuary of sorts for dragons, a place where they could live in peace, free from those that wanted to hurt or hunt them. Maybe someday, it could be the same for fae, or any that were half like Lyra.

With a nod, he answered, "Yes, for a couple months now. Gothi has accumulated a wealth of knowledge when it comes to healing, and she wants to pass that on. She's had a few apprentice candidates before, but turned them away...at least until I introduced her to Lyra."

"Now, Gothi doesn't know Lyra's true heritage, though if she had, I doubt it would make a difference. She sees something special in her, and took a liking to her right away, which if you know Gothi, that is pretty rare."

“Hiccup!” Lyra ran up to the chief, an excited grin on her face.

“Are you busy? I have something to show you!” She took his hand and pulled him towards Altair and Toothless.

“You know how last month the lightning strike caused the large forest fire?” Stopping in front of the dragons the fae all but buzzing in excitement. If her wings were visible they’d be fluttering.

“I did a thing!” She couldn’t wait to show him.

[the-morningstar-family]

Pregnancy still going okay?

Alastor has successfully survived through the first trimester of pregnancy.

But in the deer's opinion the ‘success’ is debatable. Not that anything abnormal happened, but he's simply exhausted by it. Now at 14, it is high time for another checkup. Last time Doctor Chaim had done more extensive tests, to make sure their children are developing at a normal rate.

Dr. Chaim: "I'm happy to let you know that we have the results back from the NT ultrasound and the NIPT blood test, and everything looks normal. The measurements for all three babies were within the expected range, and the blood test didn't show any signs of chromosomal abnormalities.

Lucifer, excited: “That's great!”

The king slings his arms around the demon who fondly rolls his eyes. Lucifer starts to play with his hair.

Alastor: “It is excellent”

Lucifer: “You know, you really should wear your hair like that more often”

Alastor: “Not a chance”

Hormonal changes made it harder to straighten, and to make matters worse, Alastor had overslept. So instead of having a half done job, the demon has simply put his hair into a little ponytail. Much to have s partners delight.

Dr. Chaim: “Okay, only a few things left. Please get in the scale”

Alastor, ears lowering: “It is rather obvious, that I put on weight”

Dr. Chaim: ��Looks can be deceiving and I need the specific numbers”

Alastor: “Fine, fine!”

Reluctantly, he steps out of his shoes and on the scale, decidedly not looking down. His doctor, though, looks very closely.

Dr. Chaim: “Yes, all in order. You may step off”

Lucifer had been correct, the new set of clothes had been a welcomed change, and made him more comfortable in his own expanding skin. Well, as long as there isn't too much focus on it. But it is getting better with time. Especially since it now looks more  like pregnancy and not just like he put on some weight.

Dr. Chaim: “Okay, that leaves us with one last thing!”

He hands Alastor a small cup.

Dr. Chaim: “I need a urine sample”

Alastor, glaring at him: “You are testing my patience, Doctor”

Dr. Chaim: “Yes, but mainly I'm testing your children, so go on. I am checking for glucose, bacteria, Ketone and so much more.”

The glare gets redirected to Lucifer, who looks slightly amused.

Alastor: “I'm holding you accountable for this misery”

Lucifer, nervous laugh: “Yeah, sorry about that.”

He makes quick business of it, and gets the doctor the urine sample.

Dr. Chaim: “Thank you very much. I should have the results ready by next time”

Alastor, sarcastic: “Wonderful. Shall I bring an entire canister next time?”

Dr. Chaim: “One of those cups is more than enough”

Lucifer: “Al, common, he's just trying to help”

Dr. Chaim: “Don't worry your majesty. I get all kinds of patients, I have thicker skin than that”

The doctor waves it off dismissively and goes over his checklist one more time.

Dr. Chaim: “That would be all I am checking today. Do you have any questions?”

Alastor: “Yes, actually. Regarding the magical growths. I could hardly find anything”

Dr. Chaim: “It varies from person to person. Especially if the children build stronger capabilities, their needs might fluctuate intensely. You might go from next to nothing to pretty solid magic reserves within the day. Just listen to your body and don't overexert yourself.”

Alastor, tense: “Right. Thank you, that would be all.”

The two leave after bidding goodbye.

Lucifer: “Are you worried about the magic thing?”

Alastor: “... A tad, admittedly. I do not enjoy being more… ugh vulnerable. But I suppose we will handle it, as always”

Lucifer: “Yeah! You bet!”

The enthusiasm does calm the demon.

[koalbent]

the contrast between my art with and without references is crazy

[catgirlkirigiri]

I told you it wouldn’t just be satosugu next time I posted jjk furries. This time there are even more gay people :)

[skeletalheartattack]

What are your favourite youtubes to eat food to?

i can't say i really have a favourite honestly, it's kind of luck based. i'll usually try to watch streams while i eat food, but if ive run out of the ones i'm interested in watching, it's likely im eating to a much shorter video.

[youjustwaitsunshine]

cant wait to take some nice photos at the 6h of spa and formula e this year!!!!

[tonycries]

You'll Taste Me Too! - G.S.

Synopsis. How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, office AU, enemies to lovers, jealousy (Gojo’s side), FAKE DATING, PAST Naoya x reader, creampíes, breéding, oraI (fem receiving), spítting, hot springs, cúmplay, DOWN BAD Satoru, tensíon, he’s a bit mean, revenge on your ex, ambiguous office work, exhíbitionísm, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 11.9k (this was supposed to be HALF that)

A/N. This type of annoying Gojo is always so fun to write, hope y’all have a great week <3

In all your three years as head of the marketing department, it wasn’t any of the tight deadlines or the nervous interns that drove you crazy. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that the coffee maker in the break room only made tea. 

No, the one thing you couldn’t stand - the one thing that had you contemplating whether your transfer was really worth it - came in the form of the 6’3, cloudy-haired manchild who headed the sales department. 

The one person who’d made it his personal mission to toy with your sanity as soon as you’d stepped foot into the cleancut office of Jujutsu Enterprises. 

The bane of your existence. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Huh?” you gape stupidly, and if this was any other time you’d have smacked yourself for the unprofessionalism. 

Yaga nods gravely - almost sympathetic - as if he honestly couldn’t fault you for your reaction. “Yes, since this upcoming contract relies heavily on collaboration between the marketing and sales departments, Satoru here-” He nods at the tangle of long limbs that’d been draped dramatically over the seat right next to you. “-will be accompanying you on your trip to Kyoto…unfortunately.”

“What do you mean ‘accompanying’-”

“The fuck do you mean ‘unfortunately’-”

Your supervisor heaves out a tired sigh over your flurry of protests, rubbing his temples, “Look, I wouldn’t have picked out your ah- duo either. But as heads of department, you two are the best and brightest we have. And the board believes we can snag the infamous Gakuganji and his protegé easily as clients with the combination of you both.” 

“But-” you sputter out. “Can’t I go with Nanami like I usually do? Surely he’s a better option than a pompous, no-good nepo-”

“And I’d rather go alone.” Gojo cuts through smoothly, flashing a cocky wink your way. “Sorry, sweetheart, but even my charm won’t be enough to stop you from scaring that client off.”

Fuck unprofessionalism. If looks could kill, the leveled glare you shoot the man at your side is enough to bury him six feet and have you dancing on his grave already. 

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Now fully facing Gojo for the first time since you’d first entered Yaga’s stuffy office, “Oh yeah, and aren’t you the one that got reprimanded for sleeping through the last company meeting we had?”

“D-did not.” his cheeks tinge with a delicate strawberry pink.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” you scoff, brows furrowing when you realize you’ve inched just a bit closer than appropriate. Your knees knocking against his, yet you don’t pull away out of stubborness. “What? Too embarrassed to admit your oh-so-great ‘charm’ was in the pillows?”

Almost mockingly, he’s copying your posture, tight white shirt straining over those biceps he didn’t hesitate to infuriatingly flex any time you came around. Minty breath wafting over your cheeks when he leans in to murmur lowly - just loud enough that Yaga won’t question, “No, but you would be happy to know that it is in the sheets.”

You blink, though, you can’t really be too surprised - of course, Gojo turns the conversation into something so filthy. He always does.

But before you can spit out a few venomous expletives you really would regret saying in front of Yaga, the man himself interrupts your argument with a pointed cough. “Since the chemistry is as lively as ever,” he’s deadpanning dryly. “I take it you both will be on your best behavior for these three days, and come back with a signed contract.”

Chemistry your ass. 

And though he’s addressing you both, you feel a stab of smug satisfaction when Yaga’s gaze lock with an amused Gojo’s. 

“Mhm, of course we’ll come back successful - how could you not with the star employee on this trip.” he motions airily in your direction. You stiffen, not expecting the compliment when- “And of course our cute resident hardass will be there, too.”

“You little fu-”

“Great!” Yaga claps his hands, a signal you knew meant to get the hell out of his office before he assigns more overtime. “It’s settled then, your tickets have been booked for tomorrow and I assume you both have been emailed the appropriate information?”

Nodding, you make your way to leave - and find that Gojo is waiting, glass door to the office held open for you. With a sharp click of your tongue, you bite down on whatever words come to your throat, barely out of the office before you hear a tired warning behind you, “And please don’t try to kill each other, our insurance doesn’t cover it.” 

When you’re both out in the hallway, Gojo flashes you a cocky smirk and an even cockier “You heard the man.” Pointing at his unfairly pretty features - not that you’d admit that in a million years. “After all, my face is insured but who’d want to hurt this handsome-”

“I could.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “Easily. And I would, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that this job pays well.” Something you say every time he prances around in your department during breaks, bragging about how you’re “all bark but no bite.”

Satoru only chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender when you continue, “Let’s just get through these three days, ace the contract, and never speak of this again. Okay?”

To your surprise, he’s grabbing one of your hands with his much larger ones - soft, you gulp, noting involuntarily. “I like what goes on in that pretty lil’ brain of yours, silly girl. Then, let’s charm the asses off that dumbass client and the board of elders~”

Everyone in the office knew of the strange little dynamic between you two - found it to be the utmost entertainment they got in the workday. But you were damned if you let it mess up this contract. 

If you two survived the entire three days, that is. 

---

You two were not surviving the entire three days - or the contract deal, for that matter. Hell, you couldn’t even survive this first day. 

“Gojo I told you.” you squint at the glossy paper. “It says platform eight. I know you can’t see without those ugly sunglasses of yours but-”

A big arm comes up suddenly behind your shoulders, snatching the train ticket clean out of your hands. Gojo lets it rest there as he exclaims, “Let me see. Now, y’know if this was me, I’d have chosen Gran class. Ichiji in finances really skimped out buying these second class seats, gonna hafta have a word with him when we get back…”

You narrow your eyes, frantically trying to push back that strange part of you that almost wanted to lean in closer to the hit of his piney, expensive cologne. “Have fun bullying him, you leech.”

To which he only responds with a syrupy giggle, “Oh, don’t worry.” And you let out a tiny gasp when he flicks your forehead softly. “You’ll be right there in first class with me. Even with that bratty attitude of yours, the ladies love those Gojo perks.”

“Mhm explains why you’ve been single for all three years I've had the misfortune of knowing you.” you hiss, eyes desperately darting about for directions to platform eight. You were going to get on this train - with or without him. Preferably without him.

So absorbed in your mission that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that Gojo’s words were a pitch higher than normal when he retorts with a strangled, “S-so what? Keepin’ an eye on me, sweetheart?”

And you knew the two of you definitely looked like a peculiar sight - Gojo’s dangling off of you like a ragdoll, surrounded by the few comically large suitcases that were mainly his. So much for a three-day work trip. Your face burns at the few weary salary workers that gave the two of you a very wide berth while going about their daily commutes. Fuck, you couldn’t even ask anyone for help at this point if you both looked at like some safety hazard. 

“Did you find it?” You huff when the silence lingers a bit too long - jumping when you raise your head up to find his burning stare already inches away from you. “God- I take it back, please keep those glasses on.”

“Hey!”

You’re digging your elbow into his side now, words stumbling over the other in a heated hurry, “And get- get off we’re gonna miss this-”

“It really is you, huh?”

All at once, you’re reminded that strangely it isn’t just the two of you causing ruckus in the middle of the Shinjuku station. Unfortunately. 

Any and all previous irritation at Gojo wipes away, flooding back as full, unbridled rage when you’re tearing your eyes away from the nuisance beside you to look up and-

Oh. 

Dammit, you knew you’d recognize that grating voice anywhere - and for the first time, it wasn’t Gojo’s.

“Naoya.”

“You.” 

Still didn’t even have the decency to address you properly, huh? You bite your lower lip, unaware what to say next. But luckily you didn’t have to - because Gojo is standing up straighter, features smoothing into a mask of cool appraisal when he sweeps his eyes down at the other man. 

Finally, Naoya seems to notice him. Flickering quickly between the arm still firmly around your shoulder and his darkened stare. “And who are you?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, two-tone.” he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. And you swear you could feel the soft pads of his fingers tightening, digging in through your silky work shirt. “What business do you have with us?”

Us - you didn’t miss the emphasis. 

Evidently, Naoya didn’t either, because his tone turns into a low, dangerous simper as he continues. “What? Can’t a man come up just to catch up with a fling?”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he watches you register the word. Fling. Sure, after about a year of dating, the two of you didn’t have the cleanest break up - with the constant fights and him wanting to uproot your life and dream career with his new job transfer. But still. 

“Of course, he can.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, buttons on his shirt straining when he puffs his chest out ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but notice that he has much more than a few inches on your ex. Gruffing out, “But not when she’s with her new boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

You freeze the word running around over and over in your hazy mind - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend-

“And trust me, she’s long forgotten your sorry ass.” You’re jolting back to reality only when you feel the slow, soothing glide of Gojo’s thumb at the exposed skin of your shoulder. He looks down at you with that familiar mirthful smile to say, “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

“Ah uh-” you’re mentally kicking yourself for not choosing to attend those acting lessons in college for extra credit. Coughing out what you hope to be a believable, “Yeah, this is G-Satoru, my- my boyfriend.”

But your coworker takes it all in concerning stride, pulling you flush against his toned chest, rumbling with the muse of “Mhm, and we’re very happy together.” You honestly feel like you’re about to fall weakly to your knees right then and there in the station when you feel the distinct pressure of two soft, plump lips grazing fleetingly at your forehead. Murmuring into your hairline, “Going on a couples’ trip to Kyoto this very moment, in fact.”

“I see.” Naoya levels out, and by the sharp glint in his eyes you already knew the gears on his head were turning. But before you could question him any further, the melodic voice of the railway announcer cuts through the tense air. “Ah- that’s me. And as pleasant as this reunion was, Kurama onsen doesn’t wait.” Before clapping a hand on the shoulder of the uncharacteristically silent Gojo stood by your side, “I wish you the best with your relationship, she’s only good the first few times after all.” His next words are cold and directed at you. “I’ll text ya, if you still don’t have me blocked, that is.” 

Saved by the train - and your fist gripping onto Gojo’s button-up, Naoya saunters to climb aboard the train currently entering the nearby platform. 

Leaving the both of you in that whirling, unfamiliar silence. Gojo’s arm is still burning around your shoulder, your muscles still aching from stopping him from powerfully lunging after the other man.

You break first. 

“Why…why did you do that.” you mutter over the bustling crowds - more to yourself than him, so you’re surprised when he responds just as hastily. 

“It’s just- Because he was a dick.” Gojo’s lips form a petulant pout. He decidedly avoids your probing eyes while he plows on, “And I should be the only one allowed to be a dick to you so don’t get it twisted, silly girl.”

You scoff, before your eyes widen at where Noaya was boarding through the doors of the sleek bullet train, “Wait- Gojo-”

“Satoru, think I deserve to be called ‘Satoru’ after that.” he grins irritatingly. “Consider it a payment since it’ll kill ya to say it every time.”

“Yes yes, S-Satoru-” you wave off, but you can’t deny how easily the name rolls off your tongue. And distinctly, you wondered why you called most of your coworkers by first name, but never him before. “He’s going to Kurama onsen.”

Gojo tilts his head, nose scrunching in confusion. “And?”

“We’re going to Kurama onsen.”

---

For all the disaster the first day had wrecked upon your sanity, you were thankful enough that neither of you were sat in the same area as Naoya. Barely even settling into your cushioned seat before putting on your headphones - and a sleeping mask for good measure so you couldn’t be riled up by your coworker again. 

Surprisingly he didn’t try either. Only bothering you to share his snacks occasionally, and hog the arm space on your chair, electricity running down your skin every time he brushed up against you. 

It was quiet, somehow neither of you minded. 

“Hah- are we- woah.” you gasp out after the short walk from the Kyoto station to your destination, an intricate wooden sign coming into view. Lugging your baggage with you - Gojo had insisted he carry it too as a show of strength, but you were sure it’s because he just wanted to give up halfway through and take a taxi instead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah I get that a lot.” Gojo comes up behind you without warning, a sultry trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead to the forbidden depths of where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a few times. “But usually it’s ‘gorgeous’ or ‘hot as hell’ or-”

“Oh, shut up.” you breathe, ripping your eyes away and towards the reception. “Get your ass moving now, we’ve gotta get checked in and form a game plan for the meeting.”

“That eager to get me in a bed? Always knew ya had it in you, sweetheart.” Oh, he lets out a shiver at your blazingly dirty look. “I mean- yes, ma’am.”

There aren’t too many visitors, and you choose to do the talking when you walk up to the sweet older lady at the reception, having decided that Gojo has done way too much of that for today. Humming, “Hi there, we’re here for two rooms reserved under the name ‘Yaga’?”

A few taps of her keyboard and she’s flashing you a megawatt smile, “Oh yes, you’re right on time!” Before getting up from her seat, “I’ll be the one escorting the young couple to their honeymoon suite. Just this way-”

And while Gojo breezes past you without a single complaint, you stand frozen in the middle of the cozy wooden room. Reaching out a hand to sputter, “W-wait, surely there must be some mistake? Honeymoon suite?”

Gojo is close enough that he whispers something in her ear, and you already know it doesn’t bode well for you at all. 

“Oh honey don’t worry.” she flutters a flustered hand at you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having your dear boyfriend here spend a bit extra on a comfy suite. Either way, it has been booked for a while now and unfortunately nothing can be changed…”

Forgetting yourself, you sneak a glance over at where she had left her desktop on. The tiny letters on screen confirming that yes, this reservation was under the name Yaga. And no, it wasn’t a mistake that the room you were given was a honeymoon suite. 

“Get your ass movin’ now.” Gojo’s voice snaps you out of your little reverie, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into laughter while he mocks your earlier words. He grins, “When life gives you lemons- or when Yaga gives you a honeymoon suite…”

---

“Dibs not on the couch.”

“Dibs not on the- wait, no.” Gojo huffs when you’re finally led to your sprawling room, and for all the scandal of it being a honeymoon suite, you have to admit that Yaga had great taste. “Shouldn’t you treat your boyfriend better?”

You’re splaying yourself out on the plush mattress of the bed - the only bed, because of course the universe doesn’t bestow you with a normal work trip. But god none of those cheap motels at the trips you’d gone on with Nanami or Shoko could ever compare to this. 

Mindfully, you push away the rose petals decorating the silken sheets. “Not my problem.” Jutting a thumb towards the small private hot spring allocated for your room outside, “Sleep in the onsen. Might wanna hurry though, it’s getting dark.”

“Please?” 

“I’m kicking you out of this room altogether.”

“Pretty please.”

You feel a rush of begrudging endearment at the way he’s batting his long lashes at you. Suddenly, you’re wondering whether this is why so many at the office can’t get enough of Gojo - why everyone flocks to him as soon as he waltzes into your department for no apparent reason. Struggling to stand firm. “Hasn’t Nanami told you before that adding ‘pretty’ doesn’t work?”

Grumbling, he sets down the bags, swiftly turning around to call out, “Fine, but m’takin’ a shower first, so you better keep any expensive shampoos away or m’stealing with no regrets.”

Mind dizzy with everything from today, it’s all you can do to shuffle through your bag for your laptop. Trembling fingers deciding that if you weren’t going to think too deeply about this, might as well get some work done. 

It’s what you do for a while - to partial success - until you’re pulled out of your spiels of presentations and trying to keep Gojo’s script on subject by the sound of the running water stopping, and the bathroom door clicking open. 

And lo and behold - there stood Gojo. Shirtless. 

The very same asshole that would throw paper clips at you during meetings, and always finished off the last muffin in the break room he knew you’d been eyeing all day. Here he stood - all sharp hip bones and smooth curves of muscle that were always poorly covered by his work clothes. 

Covering almost all of the bathroom doorway with his broad shoulders, speckled with glistening droplets of water that danced tauntingly down, down, down the sharp planes of his collarbones. Down his abs, and onto a trail of white, hidden by a fluffy white towel you have to force your eyes away from. 

“Put some- put some clothes on. You- you-” you’re scrambling urgently for something near you, which unfortunately happened to be a soft cotton you’d pulled out from your bag earlier. “-you lecher.”

Wordlessly, Gojo’s stunned surprise breaks into a brilliant grin when he unfolds the canon of cloth you’d thrown his way. Humming, “You call me a lecher, but you’re the one that wants to see me in your clothes, huh?”

And sure enough - it was. It was as if the universe was playing a practical joke on you because it was your favorite t-shirt, in fact, that ragged Bleach graphic held gently between Gojo’s long, pale fingers. 

You choke out, hastily getting off the bed. “Wait- I take it back.”

“I don’t know.” Gojo teases, holding the t-shirt well over your head. And all you can do is frantically reach and swerve for it, each attempt dodged with a shit-eating grin. “You get the bed, I get this ratty t-shirt, seems like a fair trade to me, no?”

“No.”

Gojo’s face is hovering so close above yours, though, he still keeps the t-shirt safely away from you. “Then I guess this is f’me, silly girl.”

You groan, appreciating the way his breath catches in his throat when you hook an arm around his neck. Reeling him in so close while you still swipe, “No, but what you are going to get is-”

What Gojo was going to get, he never finds out. Because in your frantic effort to steal back the t-shirt you so desperately didn’t want in the hands of the bastard from sales, you don’t pay attention to that slippery pool of water forming around you two from his half-assed attempts at drying off. 

And before you know it, you���re lurching to the floor - you wince, arms held out to break your fall and-

It never happens.

Blinking your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is what seems like miles upon miles of milky, smooth skin. Breathing in such a heady scent, it’s probably what makes your mind so melty when the realization hits you - a little too late - that you’re being held against Gojo’s chest. 

His painfully bare chest. 

“Satoru?” you breathe. Pawing at where you could feel his racing heartbeat, thumping so painfully against one of his pecs. “Are- are you okay?”

That gets you a hot laugh into your neck, followed by a long, drawn-out shudder that sends shivers down your spine. Through laughs, he manages to grit out, “You’re asking me that?”

He sounds surprised - relieved almost. Such a tender note in his tone at the lack of usual taunting in your words. 

Gojo lets you go - barely, still keeping two strong arms locked around your waist like he was afraid even the slightest distance could have you in danger all over again. “You can take the t-shirt.” He breathes, picking up the damp fabric now fallen onto the floor and pressing it into your palms. “I’m more of a Naruto guy anyway. And you can take the bed, I was jok-”

“You can take it.” 

“What? No-”

“You can.” you cut him off, giving a sidelong glance at the cramped couch tucked into a corner of your suite. Again, you’re drinking in all of him, how tall he was. How warm. How he’d probably have half his body dangling off the side of the cushions, “We can- I mean we can share. We’re adults, right? Wouldn’t want you complaining about a sore back during the contract talks anyway.”

“Worrying about me, sweetheart?” 

“No.” you scowl, pushing him away. “Now excuse you, but I have to use the bathroom since someone was hogging it earlier.”

And if you’d waited just a moment longer - maybe peaked your head out instead of scurrying inside as fast as your legs carried you - you’d have noticed that Gojo was still standing there. A fist clenched at where his heart was, face as pink as those blooming sakura outside. 

---

You didn’t sleep that night. Not one bit. 

It might partially have to do with the fact that your bed was invaded by one very gangly asshole sprawling himself all over the pillow wall you’d constructed. Or maybe to do with the aching discomfort in your joints after moving to sleep on the hard couch after only a few minutes of him getting knocking out. 

“Good morning~” Gojo’s sing-song voice rings through your verging murderous thoughts on the second day. “The sun is shining, my skin is glowing and-” His bleary eyes lock on your hunched figure across the room, looking genuinely confused as to how you got here. “-you’re on the couch?” 

“Yeah. Considered taking ya out in your sleep but then I realized the contract would be in jeopardy.”

He whines, “I’ve- I’ve never had anyone complain before.”

“They probably ran away before that.” you nod solemnly over his sputtering complaints. Stretching, content with the pop of your bones. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look away when Gojo mimics your actions, sleep shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of white tufts at the hem of his boxers. He pouts, sulky eyes still locked on you, “But still, should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve expected you to instead of taking that shitty couch. Seems like something that guy would do.”

Your heart pangs - just a bit - and you let out a sharp laugh, “Fine, I’ll kick you out tonight. Maybe.” It’s genuine, it really is, and in the growing silence all Gojo can manage to do is fall back into your little familiar dance of teasing.

“Going soft on me? Y’know it’s usually the ladies crawling into my bed not out of it-” 

“Oh fuck you. I take it back, I will kick you out of the room itself. Have fun sleeping in the onsen, you smug bastard.”

He squawks in protest when you throw a cushion at him. Several, actually, just for good measure. “Mercy, woman! I’m delicate!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

When Gojo falls back into the comfort of the silky soft sheets, you heave out a sigh. Making your way to the sliding doors, still fully expecting a flustered employee telling you that this was all a mistake and of course, you two weren’t booked for the honeymoon suite. 

“Yes?” you answer, eyes widening when you spot that familiar man in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, it’s you.” Naoya spits, gaze heating up. “Of course, I should’ve known it’s you and that idiot boyfriend of yours makin’ so much noise next door.”

Great. Perfect. Wonderful. As if this trip couldn’t get any better. 

You pinch your nose, echoing hollowly, “What do you want?”

“Exactly that. Don’t make so much noise, neighbor. I don’t care what limp dick he’s giving you-” 

“Is that all?” you ask dryly, fully knowing there’s more he’s just aching to hurl at you. Before tucking yourself further behind the door, “If that’s all then I hafta go back to that ‘limp dick’.”

“What’s this about limp dick?” Goosebumps run along your arms when you feel something soft - hot - push up from behind you. From the corner of your eye, you spy a long milky hand flex as Gojo - shirtless - cages you in the doorway, “Because it sure can’t be mine then. Won’t you agree, my girl?”

Your face burns at the knowing wink Gojo throws your way, barely managing to hasten, “Uh- yeah.”

“She doesn’t sound very convinced.” Naoya narrows his eyes at your minute expressions, knowing you uncomfortably well after so long. “Guess she’s been missing a real man, huh?”

He scoffs, and you gulp heavily when soft lips kiss a gentle trail up the side of your neck, “Well who’s the one that’s been makin’ her scream all mornin’?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, blatantly showing off a ruddy splotch from where you’d attacked him with a cushion earlier, the zipper leaving a suspicious mark. “Like I said at the train station, she can make her own choices and she’s long forgotten your sorry ass so don’t even try it, you two-toned little bastard.”

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, you’re easily tugged back into the safety of your suite - and into Gojo’s sculpted front. You don’t push him away as your immediate thought was to, the feeling was right - too right.

“Satoru?” you hiss once the door is slammed shut.

“Hm?” he whispers hotly into the crook of your neck. 

Still pressed up so close that you can feel the surge and dip of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Uh- did I ever tell you I was a method actor, sweetheart?”

---

Unfortunately, despite being in one of the most picturesque hotspots that Kyoto had to offer, a work trip - especially one with such a high profile client and his protegé - meant that the two of you spent most of the day cooped up in your room, typing away on your laptops. 

“Ugh, this sucks.” Gojo groans for about the seventh time this hour. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, “Are you always such a hardass about contracts like this? Honestly, I can’t even feel my legs and it is not in the good way-”

“You pussy.” you grumble as you chug down another can of coffee, eyes flickering to the clock at the end of the room reading 11:00PM. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

He only scoffs, “Of course ya wouldn’t complain, this shit probably gets you off. But unfortunately for those of us that have lives-” 

You click your tongue, rubbing the oncoming headache that always seems to appear when you’re near Gojo. “Yeah, because talkin’ out of your ass and being a public nuisance is such a great life.”

“C’mon now, I see you picking at that blanket - my blanket, by the way - like it insulted your entire bloodline. You’re not slick, you wanna get outta here too.” At your pointed silence, he’s kicking his legs in the air, very much the toddler you knew him to be. “That’s- that’s it I can’t-”

Before you can react, Gojo is barrelling through the sliding doors of your suite. Long legs carrying up the short pathway that led to that private hot spring.

You’re following him before you realize it, “What- what are you- oh!”

You couldn’t cover your eyes fast enough. Being gifted with a brief, obscene eyeful of pale skin - leading all the way down his naked back, and even further when he cannonballs straight into the pool of water. 

Shit, maybe this was why the others at the office loved him so much. 

And it was hard not to understand it when Gojo’s drenched head poked out from under the hot water. White strands plastered to his forehead, a blush creeping down his skin at the head, looking at you with slightly-red, damp eyes that only seemed bluer through the steam.

“Yeah yeah I know I didn’t rinse before and I know I didn’t finish our project yet but-” he grins a grin that you don’t think you could ever forget. And you don’t know whether how hot you feel is from the onsen or him. Reaching out a soaked, strong arm towards you. “-won’t you help me get out?”

You startle, clearly not having expected this request. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you inch closer, “Get out?” He nods eagerly, fingers intertwining softly with yours. “Fine but-”

Whatever scream you might’ve let out is swallowed up by water- then air. 

Then more very deserved yelling, of course. “Satoru what the fuck-” Your nails dig into his deltoids, sure to leave some very questionable marks but you didn’t care at this moment. Wiping away the water in your face while he holds you up easily, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, can’t kill me when you’re clinging to me like this, sweetheart.” Gojo rolls his eyes, but he makes no move to push you off. In fact, he only tightens the arm around your hips. “You looked like you needed that, the 8 hours of straight working like Yaga was havin’ you act like him.”

Somehow, you don’t feel strange about the fact that you’re being pushed up against a very painfully naked Gojo. Living out what is probably the wet dream for about half the office.

He notices, of course he does. 

“Trynna take a peek?” Gojo wiggles his brows. And when you’re trying to hide away behind your hands, he nuzzles them away, arms a bit too occupied holding you captive. Sighing dramatically, “No need to be shy, many people do. I don’t mind of course, ah the woes of being fucking hot.”

Gasping, “Fuck you.” Unbeknownst as to why, you’re laughing. Contemplating whether you should really give him a good kick down below when you choke out, “You’re an asshole, y’know?”

“I know.” he smiles. “N’ yet you still haven’t drowned me.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

Why could you really fucking kiss him right now? 

“I know.”

The moment is broken only a few seconds later by some ungodly screeching you recognize to be none other than your beloved ex’s from next door. Yelling about “Shut the fuck up, if you’re gonna have onsen sex I’m calling the front lobby.”

“What? Can’t a man fuck his girl in peace?” Gojo shouts back. “Shut up just because your puny dick can’t get some, two-tone.”

That broke whatever magical spell was put on the two of you, obviously. And you were the first to run back to the suite - leaving Gojo and his nakedness alone. Very, very alone. 

He takes a bit longer to follow you, and you’re already freshened up and in bed by the time he makes his way to the bathroom - with clothes this time, fortunately for your sanity. 

Only a few minutes later, he’s nestling right next to you on the bed. You gasp in a sharp inhale at the heat of his proximity, mere millimeters away from you now. 

“Good work today, by the way.” Gojo gruffs out to your turned back, quiet words carrying over that ridiculous extra-vaulted wall of pillows, padded up with ones from the couch, too. Silver tongue stumbling over his words slightly, “For how much I complained I didn’t get to tell ya. You and I - mainly I - are gonna ace that contract tomorrow.”

There’s no taunting in his tone, not one bit. And you surprise the both of you when you murmur out shakily, “I’m worried.”

“Huh?” he chokes in disbelief. “Listen, I know I slept through that meeting one time, but I swear it was only one time. I’m a…somewhat changed man, I promise I won’t-”

“Not that.”

He pauses at your interruption. All is quiet - only the chirping of crickets outside, and the steamy buzz of nearby hot springs. 

And for the first time in the twenty-something years Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc upon this Earth, he is rendered speechless. Wordlessly picking apart your wall of pillows - one by one, as if to give you more than enough time to stop him - to loop two strong arms around you. 

“Shut up.” he breathes. “You’ll do brilliant, silly girl.”

---

Gojo remembers the exact date he met you - probably the exact time, too. Honestly, even three whole years after that initial meeting, he can’t remember anything but that, if you asked him to recall a single meeting held that week then Gojo honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

It was a regular day spent driving poor Nanami over in the marketing department dangerously close to his fifth migraine of the day.

“You know I know I’m a valuable asset to this company Nanamin.” he chuckles, looking over where the other man was readying a sparkly Welcome! banner. “But this is all too much even for me~”

“It’s not for you.” Nanami spits, curtly. Barely sparing Gojo a glance before readying the welcome muffins, “It’s for the new head of department arriving soon today.”

And oh that piqued his interest like never before. That had all thoughts of the meeting he was currently missing flying out the window as he wondered what you would be like. Swiping away a few of those tempting muffins right out of Ichiji’s hands, he wonders. Would you be another Ichiji? Would you try and keep him under your thumb like Yaga? Hah, you could try but-

“Look I don’t know if the sales department doesn’t have food but, really?” 

What?

A shudder wracks through the oh-so-great Gojo’s body at the sound of your cool, firm tone turning to meet the source and-

Oh. Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul impaled and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Gojo thought his knees were weak at just a gorgeous glare from you - well, he was completely and utterly unprepared for when he leaned in closer to where you stood firmly. Shielding a pale, trembling Ichiji. And, honestly, with a death stare like that you couldn’t blame a guy for getting nervous! It’s all he could do to hum out a cocky, “What? Want some, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What I want is you out of my department.” you furrow your brows. “Now.”

It’s all that’s said before you’re dragging him by his hand out - and, shit Gojo is so riveted by how soft your hands are that he almost forgets to be offended by the way the entire marketing department just watches and giggles at the scene playing out before them. Traitors.

You push him out of the door, “I better not see you coming back to toy with my new employees-” Heavy gaze flickering down to his name tag. “-Gojo.”

Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

And it honestly still felt like a dream even now - especially now - when you’re stood in front of him on the third day in Kyoto. Fingers messing meticulously with your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your new red dress. “God, I hope it isn’t too much. How do I look?”

Perfect, he wants to say. 

But instead he nudges your shoulder in the booth of your seat, settling for an obnoxious, “Alright, not as good as me, though.” Gojo takes delight in the way you give his arm a punch, smile a lot easier than before now. 

“As if, you can’t even tie this properly. Here-” your fingers fiddle deftly with his slightly crooked tie. “Fixed it, you big baby.”

He grins, “If you wanted to get your hands on me then you should’ve- oh wait you already have, haven’t you? I remember that someone bypassed her own lil’ pillow wall last night.”

“Shut up.” you give him a tight warning. “They’re here.”

Honestly, there was only one thing worse than seeing old Gakuganji - that is, the sight of his sniveling protegé following him right after. Except- 

“Two-tone?” 

“Y-you!”

There’s a tense silence between the three of you in the exquisite onsen dining hall, one that almost makes you want to jump up and bolt back to your room because this can’t be real. Surely, this can’t be-

“I see the three of you are already acquainted?” Gakuganji’s strained, aged voice cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts. “Sit, sit, Naoya. That only makes things easier.”

As a fuming Naoya and an oblivious Gakuganji take their seats in front of the two of you, you feel the undeniable pressure of long, warm fingers squeezing your own. Reassuring. And it makes you flash the two men your best, most polished business smile, “So, about the contract.”

---

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Satoru.”

“No, I will throw up. And that will not be good for my reputation.”

“Satoru, if you throw up I’m beating your ass.”

He narrows his eyes at your heated whisper, matching you with a low, “Damn keep it for the bedroom sweetheart. We still hafta wait till Gakuganji comes back with his decision.” 

“Ahem!”

It’s that annoyed, grating faux cough that drags you and Gojo out of your little world - back to reality in which no, unfortunately while your primary client has gone off to take an important business call regarding your contract, you were left to babysit his protegé.

“Yes, Naoya.” you give him a dry grin. It was nearing well into late night at this point, and most of the other visitors had cleared out except for the reserved table you were sitting in. “Do you want to be beat up, too?”

He only points an accusing finger at the two of you, “Don’t play games with me you hear. I’ve already got you figured out, coming here on a business trip and dating your coworker all the same-” Both you and Gojo raise a brow at this, what an idiot. “-you two will be fired for this.”

You catch Gojo’s eye and try not to burst out laughing, “As if. And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I knew that you were Gakuganji’s new protegé.”

“Not because the guy you have to be here with is the same one you told me you hated back then?” he spits. “Honestly, you’d have been better off with me than this ‘pompous, no-good nepo baby asshole’ as you loved to put it.”

And you knew that Gojo was aware of your little rivalry - hell, he was an active participant, more than happy to rile you up every time. But that still didn’t stop you from tensing up when you spared a glance at the man beside you. 

Surprised to see that unapologetic smirk on his face, “Of course she did.” Looking down at you with what you swore was such unimaginably deep fondness in his eyes. “I probably imagine she told you all the funny ways she wanted to get back at me, too? Banning me from the marketing department? Holding an anti-Gojo campaign? Strangling?” Gojo takes Naoya’s shocked silence as enough of an answer, “Guess what, she did hate me, probably still can’t stand me. Very understandably so, because she’s hot as fuck when she’s mad.”

Despite his furrowed brow and the angry slash of his mouth, Naoya can’t stop himself from blurting out, “W-well how did you-”

“We fuck it out, of course.”

And perhaps for the one time on this entire trip, the universe smiles down at you. You find yourself sighing in relief at the sight of Gakuganji nearing your table, evidently done with his phone call. Thank fuck, you weren’t ready for a fight to break out and this dress was too expensive to ruin. 

“Seems you three are getting along well.” the old man drones out, and by the tone of his voice you genuinely can’t tell whether he was joking or not. Turning towards you and Gojo, “Well, after that very thorough presentation and careful consideration with the board at our Kyoto branch, we have all come to a unanimous decision.” You wait with bated breath for his next few words, “Where do we sign?”

Naoya stands in his seat, “But- but, sir.” He cringes, as furious as the last time you’d seen him a year ago. “You can’t sign off on this deal- not with these scumming, absolute little shits.”

“Naoya.” Gakuganji’s voice carries a warning. “You are dismissed.”

Ah, Gojo chuckles inwardly, exactly where he wanted him. 

It seemed like a blur after that - a blur of signed contracts and Gojo making faces at an ashen-faced Naoya behind Gakuganji’s back, of being told that the two of you simply “must visit” their offices in Kyoto one day - much to your exes absolute torture. To which Gojo had replied with a smug, “Of course, my girlfriend and I will. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Just loud enough that Naoya - who’d been banned to a nearby table - could fume over. 

And it’s how you found yourself pulling a giggly Gojo by his lapels back to your suite, hasty and desperate. Tripping over one another as you stumble in. 

“Easy there on the merchandise, sweetheart.” he jests, but it sounds so strained even to him. “Can’t break our streak and kill each other on the last day now, can we?”

Your laughter dies down, “Hey, Satoru?”

“Oh no…”

“Why did you call me your girlfriend even at the end back then?”

His brows scrunch up, pleading almost. He chokes out, “Just- you- I just-” Flicking a calculated finger right in the middle of your forehead, “You think too much, did you know that? Hate to see this pretty face like this, did you see his reaction?”

“Oh my god yes did you see his face, Satoru?” you’re pressing him against the wall to steady yourselves. Feeling so drunk off the evening and him. “Naoya looked like he was going to explode right then and there. We did so good.”

“What did I tell, ya? I always know everything, silly girl.” Two big arms wrap around yours in a congratulatory hug - or, at least, what you think is a congratulatory hug. And if his palms dip just a bit lower than your waist - if this was just a bit inappropriate - neither of you say anything. “Mhm. Don’t even know what you dated that fool in the first place, he’s not even in your league.” 

You scoff, “Gee thanks.”

“No no, not in that way, don’t ever think in that way, stupid.” A long index comes up to tilt your chin up to meet his greedy gaze. “You’re too gorgeous for him. Besides, he spoke like a man who couldn’t even find the clit.”

“Well- he did find it.” you relish in that deepening furrow of Gojo’s brow, the way the muscles in his jaw tick just right. “But wanna hear a secret?” Those soft baby hair at the nape of his neck raise when you’re whispering in his ear, barely even waiting for his dazed nod. “He still never made me cum.”

“...Never?”

“Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, one. Two. 

Shit. 

You’d long expected Gojo’s smart mouth to make some kind of insulting joke by now. And you’re halfway through wondering whether you’d overshared too much, untangling your arms from his vice-like embrace before-

“I would.” he rasps, breaths ragged. You’re tilting your head in confusion when he repeats cockily, “I would’ve made you cum, y’know. How could I not?”

There’s a snarky little part of you that makes you quick a brow, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an offer?”

Gojo’s arms loop around you tight - almost too tight, you could almost hear your poor bones popping in protest. “It’s a promise.”

Oh that’s all you wanted to hear right about now. And he can fucking see the goosebumps that make their way down your exposed shoulders, he can practically hear that syrupy sweet tone that was really not good for his sanity. 

“Prove it, Satoru.”

His lips are crashing against yours like they’re magnetized - and it’s nothing like what you’d imagine kissing Gojo Satoru would’ve been like. Nothing suave, shallow. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and lips and his tongue tasting every inch of your candied lips like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t even want to breathe for fear of losing out on your pretty mouth. 

“Fuck-” Gojo hisses, delicate strings of spit snapping as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to take in the delicious sight of you all glossy eyed with swollen lips. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

Kissing you over and over like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t want to get enough, you’re moaning when Gojo slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. Addicted to the distinct taste of him and those cheap cherry lollipops you always caught him sucking on in the break room.

He’s drawing back in a way that has him drinking in your soft noises, big palms kneading your body over your dress. 

“Sa- Sato-” you’re gasping out when he flips you over to press you up against the wall. Assaulting your bruised lips with heated peck after peck. “What do you- mean-”

He groans, lips moving to kiss down the quivering column of your throat, “Shut up- Just shut up and kiss me. God, for how much I love that mouth of yours, you talk way too much, sweetheart.”

And that was really rich coming from him - but you don’t get to snark back at him. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that Gojo decides he’s had enough of playing nice - that is, if he was in the first place. 

Immediately fiddling towards that cold metal zipper in the back, gliding down the red fabric right along with your bra- shit, when did he even unclip it?

“You-” you sputter, the cool chill of the bedroom pebbles your sensitive nipples. The dawning feeling that this absolute thorn at your side might be much more than just talk has your thighs pressing together. Leveling him with a narrow look, “You are such a whore, aren’t you?”

He flashes you a sheepish grin, large palms groping your tits. “Would ya believe me if I told you it was from how many times I’d imagined this before?”

“Absolutely not.”

This earns you a sharp smack! gifted onto the fat of your ass, the five pads of Gojo’s fingers burning onto where your dress was hiking up. 

“Always need to talk back, don’t you?” he spits, shoving a knee between your two legs. Such an innocently handsome grin splashing across his face at the soft moan you let out, grinding purposefully against that damp mound of your needy cunt. “Why won’t you ever hah- believe me?” He has one hand shoving your dress down, down, down. The other dragging your sloppy hips down his muscled thigh, “You wanna hear a secret? Stick your tongue out f’me like a good girl now, sweetheart.” 

And oh you wanted to fight back. To outright refuse to comply so brattily, but it’s all you can do to nod blearily, feeling so fucking dirty with the way you’re letting your tongue loll out. Whining when Gojo smushes your cheeks together into an obscene pucker, into the perfect target for him to spit once. Twice. 

“Yeah, take it- that’s my girl. A secret for a secret, right?” Gojo smiles so darkly, swiping away that thick splatter of syrupy saliva dredged up on the corner of your mouth. Intentional, of course. His words are low but clear, unable to have you mistaking them for anything else when he says, “That time I slept through the whole meeting? Wasn’t sleepin’.”  He bites down on your earlobe, licking lightly. “S’just, I happened to see that cute new skirt you were wearing that day, it was so short- so fuckin’ tight. Couldn’t bear to show my face, not after I’d just spent the past few hours with my hand wrapped around my cock, wondering all the sweet things I could do to you in it.”

You’re gasping, “You’re so fucking filthy.”

“Yeah yeah.” he purrs, toying with the hem of your now dress, the red cloth now dangling somewhere at your thighs. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as dirty, hardass. Actin’ all prudish when ya dress like this underneath.”

As if to prove his point, the back of one of his fingers is gliding across where your lacy black panties were peeking out. Groaning at the sopping wet fabric, “Yeah, just as dirty as I thought.”

With his little hypothesis confirmed, it’s all that Gojo has to do to pick you up with one arm hooking under your already trembly thighs. You’re keening when he plants another solid smack on the fat of your ass, “Satoru!”

“Ohh, I love that. Say it again.” he murmurs, walking slowly to the edge of your shared bed. Savoring that feeling of your drooling cunt seeping through to paint a small dark patch on his suit. “I said, say it again.”

All it takes is another harsh slap against your ass, and a honeyed drag of Gojo’s name for him to splay you out like some slut on the soft silken sheets. You find yourself pulling him back by his broad shoulders when he takes the moment to admire just how gorgeous you looked. Even better than any daydream that mind of his could think of. 

“Sa-toru-” you mewl, and he only licks his lips as if in a daze. Not knowing where to look - at that needy, already-cockdrunk glaze over your eyes, at the way your flimsy dress wrapped around the plush of your thighs, at that glistening little patch on the plump mound of your cunt. So mouthwatering. “Satoru- Sa- Toru!”

That makes him snap out of his little hypnosis. “What did you call me?” he breathes. 

You bat your lashes deceivingly innocently up at him, “Sato-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off, Adam’s apple bobbing with the heavy gulp he takes. Thumbing at your puffy lips as if to drag the same words out of you - have them going straight to his achy cock once more. “That other one. Don’t play stupid with me, silly girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Oh, you did. 

And you’re feeling the way your dripping pussy clenches with anticipation when you whine out that little nickname once more. “Toru, please.” Adding a little flair to have Gojo’s rosy lips fall into a soft oh! choking on a ragged low hiss when a hand of his subconsciously goes down to squeeze his bulging erection. 

“Oh yes, m’name sounds so fuckin’ cute on your lips.” he groans. The sheets below you two rustling with movement when he shuffles urgently downwards, “Sounds so fucking good it makes me wanna-” 

RIP!

“-know if she sounds it out just as pretty as you.”

You’re still reeling from the tatters of what remained of your favorite red dress being thrown unapologetically onto the tatami mats below. Huffing in irritation, “Satoru, if you’re ngh- dead if you don’t replace that-”

He’s shutting you up with another quiet smack onto your heated skin - this time at your shamefully spread inner thighs, the edges of his padded fingers just barely touching on your swollen folds. “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya the whole fuckin’ store if I have to.” Before hovering so close you could feel every hitch of his hot breath on your beading cunt, “And m’gonna make it so you don’t dare call me that again.”

You don’t have a response to that - and anything you might’ve taunted back is being knocked out of your mouth. The only thing leaving it being slurred little whimpers of Gojo’s name when he licks a long, languid stripe up your puffy slit. 

“Oh, look at that.” he chuckles. Pushing apart your thighs to get a nice greedy look at every drop of your sweet sweet juices glistening in the dim lighting. “Think she’s more mouthy than you, if tha’s even possible, heh.”

His long, eager tongue is slurping up every syrupy drop of your slick. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Fuck- Toru.” your fingers find their way weaving into his soft strands when the very tip of his soft tongue finds its way just past your folds. Arching your spine off the plush bed needily like some slut, “Need you to- hngh- go deeper.”

The only response you’re getting is a sultry, smug grin being spread across your pussy lips. Feeling everything from the quirk of his cupid’s bow, to that dimple at the edge of Gojo’s smirk, “Knew you were needy, but this- this is fucking amazing.”

“Guess you’re all bark no bite, huh?” you pout, voice teetering into teasingly whiny. And oh how you love the way that wipes all the cockiness from Gojo’s face. “Even Naoya was able to actually eat me out the way I-”

It’s like it killed him to hear those goading words from you - and something snaps before he’s shoving that pretty face of his back nose-deep into your addictive pussy. 

Slotting his tongue up and down your hot slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“F-fuck, oh Toru-” you squeal when he wastes no time pushing past that snug little ring of resistance to reach deep into your gummy walls. Barely even giving you any warning - Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at how sinfully tight you were squeezing him. “Shit how are you in so deep-”

And that petty, petty little part of him doesn’t answer, instead gliding up a determined thumb up to draw methodical circles on your throbbing clit. Fast. So so sloppy with the way he was letting your juices dribble past his knuckles, his wrist, forming a glossy sheen all the way down to the sheets. Matching the ruthless cadence of the way he was fucking your ravaged cunt the way he wished he could do with his rock-hard cock right now. 

“Ah!” you gasp, when one swipe of his tongue sends jolts of pure white-hot pleasure running up your spine. And that’s all Gojo has to hear before he’s attacking your hidden sweet spot over and over. “F-fuck s’too good. Fuckin’ hate how your big mouth is- ngh- so good at this-”

That causes a husky rasp of laughter to bubble its way out of Gojo’s throat, and he’s pinning your wildly bucking hips down with one arm. “Don’t you dare run away now. You’re so cute when you’re cockdrunk and truthful like this, silly girl.”

The vibrations have you moaning out a feverish Toru! Toru! Toru! louder than ever, wrenching out of you with every crash of his soft tongue against your sensitive spots. Every harsh swivel on your clit, just harder on the tip, softer at the curve. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, say my name like that.” he gasps, spitting out hissy profanities into your velvety walls. You were squeezing him so tight it was almost difficult to bully his tongue into your plushy walls. To keep up his mean staccato - but fuck, it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up, it didn’t matter if his tongue was getting tired. Because Gojo Satoru was one stubborn man. “Louder-”

“T-Toru!”

“No no,” you’re jolting at the feeling of something cool and glossy hitting your cunt in a harsh glob. Gojo barely wastes any time thumbing his spit in to mix with the mess made down below, letting your ears ring with such obscene squelches that have your cheeks burning. “Hear this, sweetheart?” As if there’s anything else you could hear, he’s pulling out those sultry sounds from you. “She’s louder than you, n’ that makes me so sad-” You fuck up further and further into Gojo’s tongue, eyes locked with his down in his favorite position between your legs. “-my girl can be ah- loud f’me, right? Say my name, say it so the whole fuckin’ onsen hears.”

“Toru—”

He’s taunting you in that same honeyed tone, “Louder.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, louder. Tell it to me.”

“Toru! Fuck- m-close-” It’s probably the last understandable sentence you’re managing to moan out before you finally cum. Wave after wave of such filthy pleasure hitting you, it’s all you can do to tighten your grip on his hair. Angling and using leverage to grind your hips down deeper, jolting with every flick of his tongue sending stars behind your eyelids. And Gojo, satisfied, shuts up to let you ride his face through your high. Using him, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over his tongue, his mouth. Over and over.

“Jus’ a bit more-” you hear him whisper out so sweetly over your ringing ears. Suddenly, your limp hands fall to the sides of that drenched pool you’ve made. And yet Gojo is still going, still meshing his bruised lips so messily against your own, making out with your cunt in a way that has him so depraved. “Just some more, pretty girl- you taste so addictive.”

Big fat tears of overstimulation prick at your eyes, and you’re sobbing out, “W-wait- fuck m’too sensitive for that.”

“You can handle it, you’re a big- fuck- a big girl, aren’t ya?” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every taste of your pussy. Surging forwards despite the hold you have on his hair, “Hold on- just want a bit more- you don’t know how long-”

The pout he’s giving you once you have to just drag him away like a man starved, fighting against the grip you have on him. 

But oh Gojo looks so pretty, cloudy bangs pulled back to reveal his delicately blushing face, lips painted in a glossy sheen of your slick. Slobbering down, down, down to glisten across the bottom half of his face. Looking so bruised with how greedy he was, almost the same color as those cherry lollipops he loved so much. And his eyes - fuck, his eyes - glassy and half-lidded, hazy with a sheen that told you he was already completely and utterly pussydrunk out of his sanity. 

“Toru…” you start, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he moans at the mere sound of your voice. “Your turn.”

It’s a long endeavor to get rid of Gojo’s pants - or, at least that’s what it feels like. 

Hooking a still-shaky leg over his toned waist, you’re slamming his muscular frame down onto the mattress. Buttons hitting the floor when you all but tear his overpriced button-up off - because, really, it’s not you two if one of you doesn’t get your revenge somehow.

“These- these damn belts.” you scoff, too-eager fingers fumbling with the metal latches of Gojo’s belt. “Why does it have to have so many-”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager this way, silly girl.” he’s cupping the side of your face. Free hand easily unbuckling his belt, and the heady metallic sounds are enough to have your cunt so needy. “Like this-”

You’re gasping when he finally takes his formal dress pants off - along with those uselessly precum-soaked boxers. Sticky and leaving a lewd trail of glossy down his milky, sculpted thighs. 

And oh if you thought Gojo was pretty before then he was a fucking masterpiece right now. All tall, lean muscle that rippled with every minute movement. Curves and dips of sculpted skin being accentuated so perfectly against the dim lightning in your suite. 

So infuriating at how that couldn’t give you a better look at his massive, swollen length. So long and girthy, hefty where his fat head was leaking silky precum all over his abs. Such a delicate pink matching his lips at the head, dancing down, down his thick, prominent veins to those tufts of soaked white at his sharp pelvis. Fuck, he was so big - could you actually take him?

Wrapping your soft palm around Gojo’s furiously throbbing fast, you’re letting him coat you hand in a sinful sheen. And you can’t help but wonder what he’d taste like, too-

“Hold on right there, my dirty girl.” your slowly dipping head is tilted firmly by Gojo. “As much as hngh- fuck you’re squeezing me so tight- as much as this has been fuck- all I’d dreamt of since that office ice cream party. I just know m’gonna cum as soon as you put that smart mouth on me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing gently at your lips, sucking on your lower lip. “And I just know you’re never gonna fuck– let me live that down.”

You smirk, “Not gonna live that ice cream party thing, either, Toru.”

“He flashes you such a devilish smile, steadying your hips to straddle him messily. Spreading your legs on either side of his weepy tip. “Oh, fuck off.”

You hiss when you’re feeling the hot kiss his head is planting on your sensitive pussy lips, “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gojo chuckles, powerful thighs curling up to plant his feet on the mattress. Waiting. Anticipating. “I’m fucking you-”

It’s barely even a warning - laughable, really - how that’s all he’s gifting you with before bullying the very tip of his fat cock into your snug cunt in a sloppy hit. 

He groans, eyes fighting to roll to the back of his head but caught so so greedily on the way you swollen pussy lips are being spread so obscenely to swallow every single inch after fucking inch. Disappearing down into your gooey walls, Gojo’s breath hitches at the first sign of resistance from your too-tight entrance. 

“C’mon now.” he moans gutturally. Hips fucking up in a jagged, slow grind, trying so desperately to plunge himself in deeper. “C’mon c’mon come- on-” 

“Toru!” you’re gasping when he slides his soaked length even deeper. Feeding in to the way your gummy walls want more more more more- “You’re so fuckin’ hngh- impatient.”

“Me?” he’s asking, voice a few octaves higher and dripping with the audacity to sound so genuinely in disbelief. “You’re- you’re saying that I’m impatient. Oh, sweetheart-” you blink back the lusty haze in your eyes to look down at Gojo fully, spying that upwards curl of his lips that you knew didn’t mean well for you right now. “-look down.”

Your eyes widening as you’re whirling downwards to spy the way he’s not even halfway in yet. But that’s not all, no, your poor pussy is just absolutely bulging around his girthy shaft, struggling, stretched to their limits - yet still quivering with the effort to try and milk something delicious out of him. 

And the moment that tiny, shaky gasp leaves your mouth, his sharp hip bones are just crashing into yours. Toned hips lifting off of the bed to drive his achy cock into your drooling cunt. One hand kneads and gropes the flesh of your ass to steady you down, down, down-

“Toru-” you’re moaning, like a mantra, once his angry tip is gliding across the spongy wall of your cervix. The stretch too much, Gojo’s cock so thick in his girth that you could feel each and every sweet spot of yours being dragged down his length. “F-fuck, Toru!”

He chuckles, gritting out through those long, determined grinds. Having himself now fully stuffed inside your cunt, heavy balls kissing at the curve of your ass, pubic hair scratching up against your needy clit.  “Can’t hah- keep quiet, can you? Fuckin’ love how needy she is- how needy you are.”

“Sh-shut up-” you mewl, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hah- I would.” Gojo grins out so smugly. Tilting you precariously on top of him like some ragdoll to easily give your g-spot a mean crash of his greedy head. “But you can’t.”

And of course, he’s proving his own point by bouncing you in a heady, fast tandem, abs burning with the ache to fuck you so rude. Gojo spits once on two of his long, slender fingers, letting this lewd coating smear down to his knuckles before dipping them down to spread your puffy folds even farther. 

“Fuuuck, jus’ look at you.” he rasps, the deep baritone of his voice having your gummy walls mold even harder onto the shape of his cock. Gojo throws his had back, twitching balls squeezing harder with every increasing smack against your ass. “Shit shit shit- how that bastard had you hngh- all to himself and didn’t make th-this pretty pussy come everyday I’ll never understand.” He’s pulling you down with a hand to the back of your neck, tightening, “So don’t we hah- rub it in his ugly face?”

Shit, the thought has you grinding and stuttering your hips down to meet Gojo’s unforgiving cadence, arching your body into him like you couldn’t get enough. 

“You just got- hngh- so impossibly harder at that.” you push his bucking shoulders down onto the mattress. Now fully riding him just as much as he was fucking you into the mattress so animalistically. “And you call me needy.”

He scoffs, “I’m not the only one.” The fingers still lingering on your cunt moving to toy with your pulsing sensitive nub, teasing and toying your clit between two fingers. “Can you just h-hear how loud this pussy of yours is? Bet he can hear too.”

And it was true, the wet smacks were only getting louder. Sloppier. Squelching with the push and pull of Gojo’s pounding cock in the same maddening staccato. 

But still - you weren’t going to be compliant that easily. Feeling the familiar tingles of your high edging closer, you wanted to break him just one more time. “Nah- I don’t think he can.”

“Oh you’re gonna regret that, silly girl.”

In all of two seconds - maybe even less than - Gojo’s using his immense strength to his advantage. Flipping the two of you over so your back is hitting the soaked sheets, droopy legs thrown over your shoulder to plow into you in such a mean mating press he has you folded into. 

The new change in angle makes it even easier for him to be kissing your g-spot. Bruising. Branding his name onto your sweet spots - your cervix - so you wouldn’t forget. So you can’t forget.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you’re letting out staggered gasps every time he rams his hefty cock into you. Fingers still relentless on your clit - playing around with it as much as he was playing with your sanity. “I’m so-”

“What was that?” he interrupts through sloppy, stuttering thrusts. Free hand cupping his ear so goadingly, ‘Can’t hear you, sweetheart.“

“Toru-” you’re squealing over his rapidly accelerating movements. Fighting to babble out coherently, “Toru m’close-”

“Louder.” he’s grinning meanly. Hips burning with slowly fatiguing effort because he’s so close, your slick walls are massaging him so tight. But where’s the fun if there’s no teasing? “Still can’t hear ya.”

Your voice is shot at this point, “Toru, m’gonna cum-”

“Louder or m’not gonna let you.”

“Toru! Fuck fuck fuck m’cumming.” It hits him before those loud moans are even leaving your mouth, because your velvety walls are clamping down so snug. Molding to the shape of him, your heels digging even deeper on his shoulder, nails raking red red patterns down the pale skin of his biceps. “M’cumming- ngh-”

And fuck each and every slam of his hips sends electricity up your spine, bullying you through your high. Dragging it out till you think you could go insane. 

“God- fuck you’re so-” It’s the only hoarse grunt leaving Gojo’s lips before he’s spilling thick rope after rope of seed into the awaiting channel of your pussy. “So perfect f’me.”

Two hands of his lace above your head, pushing you so impossibly deep down his thick hilt. He’s cumming and cumming so hard like he never has in his life, body out of control with the way he’s stuffing you with every drop of seed. 

He shivers at the overspill, gushing out of the corners of your ravaged cunt, painting a creamy ring around his tired base. Too much. And yet mindlessly thrusting even sloppier, catching your lips in a lazy, passionate kiss. “At least we didn’t fuckin’ kill each other, hm?”

You smile into it, slotting your hips languidly, “Didn’t do hgnh- the neighbors any favors, either.”

“It’s Naoya, who fucking cares? ‘Limp dick’ my ass.” And oh how Gojo loved that sweet sweet smile gracing your lips, the way your eyes light up all because of him. He can’t help but drawl out, “Y’know…since we were locked up in this room for all three days, and have most of the day tomorrow, how about you and I actually do some sightseeing here before we leave?” 

You nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist and shit, this might just be heaven. “We need a break after that contract, s’gonna be so fun.”

He’s connecting his sticky forehead with yours, “Of course it will be, I’ll be there.” Babbling deliriously, drunk off the way you’re leveling him with another one of your familiar glares, “And we can use Yaga’s care, too, he never checks-”

“Toru…” you warn when Gojo cuts himself off with a gasp. Quirking an irritated brow - as you usually did when you’re with him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been dipping into Yaga’s card, he’ll kill you if he finds out. That’s if I don’t kill you first.”

“...”

“...Toru…”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I booked us this suite with it too?”

A/N. My red flag is making Naoya the shitty ex in every piece of writing I do (or is that a green flag hmmm?)

Plagiarism not authorized.

[mothercain]

The Consequence of Audience

As I went there through the long, long wood, I felt no-thing and I was no-thing and I was at ease. The grey ash trees and their mottled plumage were as one with each other, curving and branching to form a ceiling overhead. There was wide separation between trunks, creating vast corridors stretching off in all directions before me, behind me, all around me. O, what praise I could sing of that never-ending dusk fall I spent between those oaks! None came with me, none came upon me, for I was alone and I was at ease. Yet came the day the trees broke, the corridor ended, and I was thrust upon the rocky expanse that was the Great Dark. There I saw first face and heard footstep, few and far between, but I was no longer alone. It was a shameful deed to carry these two naked hands as they clenched hotly, now in full display for all to see. I had never noticed them in the wood, for I was at ease. Here, the taut skin seemed to stretch and sweat, almost glowing, as if exasperated of their own grip. For as I wandered the Great Dark, there was not but grey, barren rock as far as any eye could see. It did make a passerby out of an observer. I saw them trudge by, fingers dipped into their open mouths desperate for wetness, the lolled tongue. There, in the wood, I was the watcher, but here I am nothing but displacing air. Yet, within the smothering toil of my apathy, I had heard the bell. Murmur of God between their slick, bent fingers ruffled the hair on the back of my neck. My muscles groaned against the weight of the skin around them, aching to be set loose. All at once, I saw, from where I stood, there rose a great dome atop a hill on the horizon before me. Yes, I saw it there with mine own two eyes! The white exterior peered at me with flat orifices obscured through the mist, barely distinguishable from the dark sky behind it, as though all the world beyond the dome was cut from the same slab, only slightly effaced. The convex roof sat atop a disk, held up by great ionic pillars circling the temple. Steps radiated out and down the slope, like ripples in a pond escaping a dropped stone. It was greater than life, greater than the wood, greater than all else which filled this dark, and my gullible delight was that it was all mine. Yes, all mine! One could follow me to it but they could not follow me in. My hands stretched outwards with an audible cracking in the bone as I crept forward there. I could not tell you the rest. I would not even attempt, for it would change no-thing. To know if I did go completely naked into the theater of the divine. If I did need for no-thing, want for no-thing. If I was then full to the brim, cylindrical pull slid through my gaping jaw into my endless throat. If I saw it there, shimmering through the veil like pearlescent oil over crystal water. If it heard me singing with every atom that formed me, through every orifice and wound I had, polytonal in my begging for it to complete me with the fifth. If it looked into me, saw how I needed to know what God knows and to be with him. If it spoke back to me in flat dissonance, “how couldn’t ye?” It would be of no good to speak these things to you. In what way I was still returned to the ground, even if beneath it, intact with my puerile need to repeat my-self and my mistakes. Who would not climb the wall for a peer over the edge? The cautionary tale is the fool’s errand, and I am no fool. I am as my hands are; twisting in on themselves and bursting at the seams. I can-not contain the ache for sensation, just as I could not contain the grief as I fell, nor the agony as I crawled my way back to this rocky countryside, and lo! I am on my way there again now. I am, I am, I am! But I will not tell you the visceral details, as you already know them. You all do.

It’s happening to every-body.