#five and his kids and his grown ups

[cringecompanionapologist]

Some Interesting Stuff About the Development of Turlough

I was seriously tempted to call this post "Vis-lore Turlough". I am so fucking normal.

Anyway, I found a website via the TARDIS wiki that goes into detail about the concepts behind and making of Doctor Who episodes. For Mawdryn Undead, this means a discussion of how the character of Turlough was developed.

It started with JNT and Adric not going according to his vision. He was supposed to be a companion you couldn't quite trust, but that didn't really work with him, so it was decided that they'd try the idea again.

Honestly, the "untrustworthy" thing didn't work with Adric because of his age. He had an innocent vibe to him and tended to work best when the fact that he was just a kid trying his best was emphasized.

He'd often sort of go rogue, trying to save the day in his own way, often with some lying and stealing involved, but this seemed to confuse people. Adric became infamous for taking the villain's side, something he only did once. He pretended to take the villain's side in two other stories, but it was a fake-out. In Kinda, since the villain he pretends to side with is obviously insane, the fake-out is also quite obvious. I've seen reviews of State of Decay that don't seem to understand that Adric was supposed to be faking, however. There was also Castrovalva, where Adric was forced to work with the Master, and there's a scene or two where he pretends to cooperate willingly, but it doesn't last very long and it's always clearly a fake-out. Honestly, Adric is actually a pretty bad liar. I'm not sure if he was supposed to come across that way, but it's what we got.

Turlough was an attempt to start over and try the idea again, but with a clear story arc behind it that would make the writers keep that element consistent. Notably, for a character meant as a replacement for Adric, and a character who'd later be introduced as a schoolboy, the original plan for Turlough doesn't seem to specify his age. He's an alien working for the Black Guardian.

Unlike Adric, Turlough wasn't really meant to be a teenager. He originally wasn't going to be introduced as a schoolboy at all. The planned third story of season 20, where he'd be introduced, was The Song of the Space Whale, but the story fell through, eventually ending up as a Lost Story audio with 6 and Peri.

Since this was a last minute change, Turlough wasn't actually aged down. According to Mark Strickson, Turlough is supposed to look like he doesn't belong in the setting, and one of the ways he doesn't belong is by being obviously too old. It's never directly explained to the audience that Turlough is older than he was pretending to be, though it is implied. When given Adric's old room, he complains about it looking like a child's room, because he's had enough of children. So, the clearest answer we get to Turlough's age is "older than Adric".

Having Turlough be a bit older makes the more morally ambiguous part of his character seem more convincing. He's also given a more clear motivation for it. Adric had kinda sorta been an outsider on his homeworld who learned to steal things, but he stole because his big brother did. Adric sort of latched on to any role model he found, so simply traveling with the Doctor would change his moral attitudes to better match him. He's still young enough that his worldview is shaped by adults. Turlough is old enough that, even if he respects and admires someone, he's developed his own view of the universe through his own experiences with it.

Another reoccurring point in Mark Strickson interviews is that he wanted Turlough to be more independent than most companions. He's from an advanced civilization, so he knows how all the tech works. He's familiar with alien species. He doesn't need the Doctor to explain everything to him. But, the show kind of forced the companions into a simplistic role. JNT believed that at the end of the day, the companions were there to ask "what's happening, Doctor?" even in situations where they should definitely already know. They had to stand in for not only an audience of ordinary humans, but an audience primarily of children, so even things that a regular human adult could figure out would sometimes have to be spelled out to them.

Janet Fielding also had a problem with this for feminist reasons. Tegan wasn't supposed to be stupid. This led to a period of time where everyone was going rogue. You had two actors playing their companions as intelligent, independent adults when the script needed the opposite.

I'm calling attention to this because I think it's interesting that this was happening with Five's companions specifically. Five's main fandom characterization is as a dad with all these adopted queer youths. Five does often act like that, but it would be interesting to really look at that in the context of companions that probably wouldn't want to be treated that way. Adric and Nyssa were both introduced as teenagers, though Nyssa seemed to grow up over time. They sort of were his adopted children.

But, Tegan and Turlough enter the TARDIS as adults. The actors' frustrations could actually fit in-character. Tegan feels like she's being talked down to because she's a woman and Turlough had to pass himself off as a schoolboy but is sick of it. Why he doesn't change out of his damn uniform makes no sense with this in-universe. Out of universe, 80s Doctor Who characters were often given limited selections of outfits so they'd be more recognizable. In Turlough's case, he was dressed in black to contrast with the Doctor's white and beige and Tegan's more bold colors. It represented the personality of each character: The Doctor is mild-mannered, Tegan is bold and tends to stand out, Turlough is somber and cynical.

So, over time, Five's companions grow up. Nyssa is with him long enough that she literally comes of age while traveling with him. With Adric and Nyssa gone, we're left with Tegan and Turlough as two adult companions. Five spent years alone with Nyssa, basically acting as her adoptive father, raising her to adulthood, when she decides to leave home. He's not sure how to relate to his companions as adults. They haven't been in quite a while.

In comparing 5's companions to older companions, Adric and Nyssa are more like Susan or Zoe, very smart, but still kids. Tegan is more like Sarah Jane, limited in scientific knowledge by being a 20th century woman, but still clever and not fond of being talked down to. Turlough is more like Romana, another intelligent alien that the Doctor could communicate with as an equal. At least, that's how I would've thought of it if I'd been given these characters

This has devolved into rambling now. I just wanted to analyze 5's companions and "dad" status. I've run out of things to say.

[tonycries]

Like An Animal - T.F.

Synopsis. Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, cúmplay, mating press, chóking, overstim, oral (female receiving), créampie, dirty talk, Toji really REALLY wants to get you pregnant, spitting, mentioned kids, absolutely filthy, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Need this man so bad you don’t even understand AAA.

Toji Fushiguro didn’t want any more kids. Why would he? They were messy, expensive, and it was a sheer miracle that Megumi wasn’t anything like the little demons he’s seen during drop-off at the kindergarten. He didn’t need another reason to watch Babyshark for five hours straight - and he wasn’t about to change his mind anytime soon. 

Or, so he thought.

“Hey doll, m’home- what the f-”

“Toji! Language!” you hiss, hastily covering the ears of a very oblivious Yuji, who was deeply engrossed in mixing icing. 

Oh? 

Now, there have only been three times in his life that Toji has been truly taken aback. The first being when he discovered that yes, Megumi’s hair really does stand up that way naturally. Second, when he realized that he was falling for you - and that oh shit maybe he does still have feelings somewhere in there after all. 

And finally, right now, the sight of you covered in flour and wrestling three giggly toddlers into some semblance of order in the kitchen. “Welcome home, handsome.”

Oh. 

It made something deep inside him lurch so strangely.

“Why…” Toji rasps, eyes flitting between the mixing bowls messily clinked together and the three toddlers happily stood on stools, flour in their hair and matching smiles on your faces. “Why have they multiplied?” 

“We’re baking cookies!” Yuji exclaims from the counter, swiping a thick wad of dough on Nobara’s hair. To which the latter responds with a swift smack on the head. 

You smirk at your dumbfounded boyfriend, “Well, Toji, it seems that when you leave me alone with a batch of cookies to bake, I have a tendency to summon reinforcements.” Gesturing at the chaos surrounding you, “Megs wanted to bake some cookies before his sleepover at Yuji’s so I had these three over because we have more than enough space.”

“I see…does insurance cover this kitchen?”

Rolling your eyes, “Oh c’mon, don’t be such a spoilsport.” You reach for the batch of freshly baked goods, “You’re just in time to taste-test our latest creation!”

And, well, how could he ever say no to you? Although - flour-dusted and disheveled - some strange part of himself thinks you look even more gorgeous than usual right now, as if that was even possible. His girl was so pretty, even when you’re wrangling three little gremlins. Too pretty. Toji just couldn’t get his head around that nagging little voice saying you looked so pretty especially when you’re wrangling three little gre-

“Ehh? Fushiguro is your dad blushing?”

“Gross.”

“You idiots he isn’t blushing, it’s called ‘swooning’. My mommy says it’s a grown-up thing.”

It was hard to not hear the (extremely loud) whispers from behind you, but it was even harder to ignore the slight red tinting Toji’s ears as he pointedly reached out for the tray you were holding. Fingers barely even brushing against the cookies before a tiny voice speaks up, “Mama, can I have one too?”

You freeze. Toji freezes. You think the whole world freezes except for Yuji and Nobara who stifle giggles behind their hands.

“Look Kugisaki, now he’s really swooning.”

“Yeah, my mommy says that’s also how you get babies. You swoon and pop! they appear.”

Toji raises a brow at Nobara, gritting out a strained, “Your mommy says a lot, huh?” That jolts you out of your reverie, and you flash a gentle smile at a very red-faced Megumi. Leaning down to reply, “Of course, sweetie.”

And as he mumbles a quick “Thank you”, hastily grabbing another cookie and retreating to a corner of the kitchen - hoping to disappear into the shadows - you risk a glance at Toji. Cheeks flushed hard enough to rival Megumi’s, ah, like father like son. 

“Anyway, don’t just stand there. Come help me n’ the kids, Yuji’s grandpa’s coming to pick them up soon!” you playfully swat at your boyfriend’s sculpted chest, going back to busying yourself with the icing. 

Toji, however, was having an epiphany that was altering his perception of reality, one that he’d probably been denying ever since he stepped in through that damn front door. You. The kids. You and the kids. You and his kids. 

“Mama.”

And Megumi’s little slip-up had been the final nail on his coffin to certify that oh Toji Fushiguro was utterly and irrevocably screwed. And he’d like to blame it all on you being such a goddamn wonder, but he’s got a nagging feeling that the three little gremlins currently decorating cookies share an equal part of the blame. 

What was it that girl had said? Swooning is how you get babies? Because, well, eyeing the way you scooped up a pouty Megumi in your arms, chatting animatedly with a tittering Nobara and Yuji, only one thought rings through his mind - damn right, kid.

---

“-and make sure to brush your teeth. No faking this time, okay? I’ve told Yuji’s grandpa to check. And-”

“No summoning demons, and no summoning the police. Though you’re probably too young for that.” Toji interrupts your little tirade, ruffling the hair of a very disgruntled Megumi. “Have fun, little man.”

You giggle at the usual father-son dynamic, but as you waved off Megumi and his friends, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something in the air felt a bit different. Something a bit tense. A bit exciting.

Maybe it was the heavy silence that hung in the room after that door slammed shut, leaving just you and Toji all alone in the house. Forcing you to register the heat of his large frame looming behind yours. When did he get so close? Or maybe it was the prickly of his gaze on your back, a resounding slam! echoing in your ears as he cages you against the door. 

Or maybe - just maybe - it was the way he leaned down to whisper in your ear, husky and tinged with something so utterly dangerous. 

“So…mama, huh?” 

A thrill goes down your spine at his words. “Oh, stop.” you wave off, though you feel your cheeks flaring up in response. Especially as he plows on, “Why? I think you make a great mama.”

You scoff, casting a sidelong glance at the muscular arm just inches away from your head. “Don’t joke, Megs was so embarrassed after that.”

“I’m not joking.”

Your back hits the cool door before you can react. Toji’s hands almost painful on your shoulders, muscles rippling as he turns you to face him. You raise your eyes to meet his and oh-

Oh shit. 

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies as you take in the man before you. His expression darkened, breaths slightly labored, eyes half-lidded and locked on you. You’d almost have been worried at the sudden flip of personality had it not been for the words that spill from his lips. 

“I’m not joking.” he repeats, voice strangled. 

Great, the man has finally lost it. Despite the traitorous throbbing in your cunt, you try to make sense of the situation. “Toji, this joke has-”

Your words get caught in your throat as he raises a hand to squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrassing pout, looking down at you through dazed eyes. “Do I look like I’m joking, doll?” Leaning down to lick a stripe up a smudge of icing on your cheek. Lingering far too long, murmuring into your skin, “What do you think?” 

In the heat of it all, you manage to choke out, “W-what?”

“Don’t you think,” he mutters, as strained as if he were about to snap any second. Losing his sanity with each word that comes out of his mouth. “That you’d make the best mama?”

“I mean- yes-”

And then his lips are on yours, shutting you up - bruising. Such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit as he drinks you in with an aching desperation. Toji breathes in your gasp as you feel his cock, hard and throbbing against your front. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your mouth. “Not enough, ma. Need you s’bad.”

The buttons hit the floor before you realize what’s happening. Toji’s fisting your shirt in one hand, too impatient - too starved - he pulls down, down, down. Ripping. Urgently moving down to your shorts- “Those are expensi-” you yelp. 

But it’s useless - the tattered fabric hits the ground faster than your jaw as he groans out a quick, “I’ll buy ya a new one when we shop for baby clothes.”

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, hands trailing up your thighs. He swiftly unclasps your bra, mouth dropping into a soft little oh! at the sight, immediately groping each and every inch of skin he could reach. Tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples on his fingers in wonder. “Oh, doll. These are gonna be s’full, huh? Wan’ taste how sweet you’ll be.”

“T-Toji hah-” you whine, as he takes one nipple in his mouth. Lips wrapped so prettily around your tit as he tugs lightly, sucking harshly like he was miraculously trying to draw milk out. Looking up at you so obscenely through his thick lashes. “Ngh- wan’ more.” you buck your hips, grinding against his thick cock. 

And, well, how could Toji ever deny the mother of his children?

Because he immediately drops to his knees, biting down on the thin fabric of your soaked panties. Tugging with his teeth, “This what you want, ma?” he slurs. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he breathes in the scent of your dripping pussy, “Wan’ me to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt? Jus’ say the word.”

“Please, daddy.”

“Tha’s my girl.”

And then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds with his teeth. Flashing you a devilish grin at the sinful strings of slick that connect you to the flimsy fabric. Oh Toji had half the mind to tease you about how wet you were already, but no, he had no time to waste.

With a guttural, fucked-out little grunt, he’s surging forward, diving face first into your pretty pussy. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit, licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds. 

“Oh hngh- please.” you mewl, as he buries himself deeper into your dripping cunt. Tongue bullying its way past your folds to lap at your slick, not stopping till he’s had his fill of your sweet juices. “M-more.”

Two large hands dip into your waist as he wraps his glossy lips around your pulsing clit to suck harshly, both keeping you still and supporting your weight as your knees weaken. Toji can’t have his pretty girl hurt herself right before he fills her up n’ gets her pregnant, right?

“Sure ya can handle more, ma?” Electricity runs up your spine as your boyfriend rolls his tongue across your clit just the way he knew you liked. “Y’should be thanking me for not jus’ stuffing you full of my cock like I want to right now.” 

“Then hah- why don’t you?”

Toji pulls away ever-so-slightly, relishing in the delirious little whine of disappointment that leaves you. One that quickly turns into a surprised squeal as he spit a steady stream of spit into your quivering cunt, spreading it across your pussy with his thumb.

Sloppy - it was so fucking sloppy. He looked at you like you were his favorite meal and ate you out just as much. 

Your juices decorating his lips like a badge of honor. Smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw. One which moves as he utters, “Can’t break the mother of my kids, doll.” 

But oh how you’d beg to differ as he brings his face to your sloppy pussy once more, tongue darting out to catch the obscene little drip! drip! drip! of your slick. “Gon’ be the best fucking dad to all three of ‘em.”

“T-three?”

And with that, he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Throwing your left leg over his sculpted shoulder to make out deeper with your cunt. You tug on his hair pathetically, impatiently. Cute little whines of his name leaving you each time he drips into your sloppy pussy, stretching you out, swiping at your clit, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over-

“Yeah, three.” he mutters into your folds, “Gon’ give me two more beautiful babies? Gon’ be so round n’ pretty with my kids?” Tongue curling deftly against that one spot he knew would have you keening and rocking your pretty cunt into his mouth. 

“Ah- fuck fuck fuck- hngh- yes!” you moan, body jerking violently at the way he hit that spot over and over.  

He huffs out a laugh, hungry gaze taking in that cute, desperate expression on your face. Toji just couldn’t help but tease you a little bit. “Use your words, ma.”

“H-huh?”

“Tell me what you want.”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “Want to so badly. Wan’ you to hah- fill me up hngh- W-wan’ cum-”

“So demanding.” he titters teasingly into your cunt, vibrations making you drag your pussy more erratically on his mean mouth. Now, Toji could tease you with his tongue for hours until you’re crying and begging for his cock. But right now, he doesn’t think he has any more patience nor sanity. “I love that.”

Toji knows by the way your pretty pussy clenches around his tongue that you’re close, pulse urgent on his face as he greedily laps at your cunt. So he speeds up his movements, drinking you in like a madman. 

A hand snaking up to plunge knuckle-deep into your sloppy entrance. Pussy taking him so readily after being stretched out on his tongue. Your adorable, fucked-out little whines of his name going straight to his rock-hard dick as he fucks you with his fingers the way he wants to with his cock. Two fingers thrusting in and out while his thumb draws rapid little circles on your clit. Sinking his teeth gently into your swollen folds.

Bucking into his touch, “Hah! S’too much, daddy. Hngh, g-gonna cum ah! Gonna cum-”

“Then cum, doll.”

And you are - fast and violent. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Toji’s fingers as if your fluttering cunt was trying to suck him up. Mind hazy and your only thoughts being about Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Mmm taste s’sweet, love you on m’tongue.” he grunts, breathing you in and letting your juices slide down his throat. Lewd squelches in time with your cute lil’ whines as you ride out your orgasm on his pretty face. Tongue fucking you through your high. 

“Had fun, ma?” Toji grins once you blink back your vision, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Dangerous little smile only growing at your barely-lucid nod. 

Ah, but even the ever-confident Toji Fushiguro faltered as your shaky hands reached out to pet his achingly hard cock. Swollen and leaking a mouthwatering dark patch against his trousers. 

“Wan’ your cock now, daddy.” you murmur, watching the way his darkened eyes widen ever-so-slightly, breath hitching. “Wan’ you to fill me up over n’ over like you promised.”

Oh you little minx, with all your dirty tricks - you were going to be the death of him. 

With a dark little chuckle of disbelief, Toji rises to his full height. Lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss - tongue licking at the seam of your mouth and intertwining with yours. Forcing you to taste yourself on him. So sweet of sin and all his dreams of stuffing you till you were sure to have his kids - two of them, in fact. 

“Anything y’want, doll.” he whispers into your lips. 

And that’s all that is said before the clinking of a belt rings in the heady air. The realization that you were so naked and splayed out for him while he was still unfairly clothed finally hitting as Toji peels his shirt off. Your mouth waters at the chiseled front, hands immediately reaching to squeeze his large pecs. Running your hands along his body. 

“Ah, fuck.” he shudders, “Y’never change, huh?” 

Yet your greedy hands are momentarily stunned as he lets his pants fall to the floor with his boxers. Rock-hard cock springing up and hitting his stomach. 

He was so painfully hard that it made your cunt quiver in anticipation. Red and throbbing, soaked in precum and glistening in the dim lighting. Twitching at the sound of your voice as you say “Want you to fucking ruin me, daddy.” you blink up at Toji, all doe-eyed and teary after your last orgasm. 

And oh does that make him snap - maybe his sanity, maybe you by the end of this, because before you know it, Toji’s spreading your legs with his knee. Biting his bottom lip as your slick trails down your pretty cunt and onto your legs. 

“What m’girl wants.” he grits out, dragging his weeping tip across your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head. “My girl- gets.”

You keen as Toji bullies his massive cock into your cunt on the last word. “Ngh- T-Toji.” you whine, vision flashing at the stretch. No matter how many times Toji stuffed you full of his cock - his size never failed to disappoint.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You can take it.” Trying to steady your breathing as he fucks into you in quick, mindless little jabs to fit himself inside your snug pussy. “I’ll make sure of it, doll. How else m’gonna breed your pretty lil’ cunt?”

Your dripping cunt rubs so deliciously against his abs, slick mixing with his precum and smearing across both your bodies. Filthy, and exactly what you wanted right now. 

“Shit, love when your pussy’s so messy. Now, legs.” he rasps, with a quick smack to your thighs. And that’s all that has to be said - your queue to wrap your legs around Toji’s waist, letting his strong arms lift you with ease. Splitting you apart deeper and deeper onto his cock, veins rubbing so deliciously against all the right spots. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! matching your heartbeat. 

“Ah! Hngh- Fuck fuck fuck, m’so full.” you keen, heels digging into his hips. 

Sliding down his cock far enough that his heavy balls meet your ass, already so wet with precum and slick. Ah, you were so full of him you almost felt like he was pushing against your lungs.

“Oh, yes.” Toji hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” Finally he gets what he’s been aching for ever since those three gremlins stepped out the door. All the blood draining to his cock at the idea of fucking his cum into you till you couldn’t walk. Till you were so full of him that he was the only one you could think of. Hey, he needed to get some attention before the baby arrives, right?

“Need this s’bad. Fuck.” he gasps. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, shallow, desperate little grinds of his hips. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, you little slut. Fill you up with my seed till you can’t take it anymore.”

Neat little crescents of his fingernails on your ass as his thrusts get longer, more purposeful. Twitching balls smacking against your skin in such a lewd rhythm, matching the cute little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time his fat head hits your cervix. So deliciously painful. 

“C’mon, ma.” Toji moans, hips out of control now. Taking in the way your head was thrown back, body bouncing each time he rammed his cock into your tight cunt. But oh how he wanted to see the fucked-out expression on your face. “Look at me.”

So cockdrunk and delirious, you barely register the way Toji cradles your head to press his sweaty forehead against yours. Only looking up at him with delirious heart-eyes as he milked himself on your sloppy pussy. 

“Shit feel s’perfect split-apart on my cock. Really made for me, huh?” he gasps into your mouth. “Need to cum in this pretty pussy. Need to fill you up- ah- need this need this- fuck.”

“Shit shit shit, Toji m’so close. I’m hngh-”

A hand hurriedly unwraps from your waist to draw rapid, desperate little patterns on your cunt. Not even circles anymore because shit Toji couldn’t think of anything aside from the way your pussy was milking him so good- And how he was gonna fuck a baby into you and Megumi was gonna be the best big brother and-

“-you’ll bake with ‘em. And I’ll tuck ‘em to bed.” the words tumble out of his lips and into your parted mouth. Pussy drunk and babbling, “N’ we’re both taking those three to the park and try not to lose ‘em.”

Dragging himself inside you till his weeping tip kisses your sloppy hole. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. Fucking you so filthy, each word punctuated by quick, harsh thrusts, “Then at night m’gonna steal you all to myself, and y’know what, ma?”

At this point you can do nothing more than just take it as Toji bounces you on his cock in midair, sobbing out a strained, “W-what, daddy?”

Toji leans impossibly closer, thumb catching on your swollen lips, breath fanning your face as he mutters, “Gonna fuck another baby into you. Fill you with my cum all over again, doll. Give it all to you.”

Now, you’ve heard of orgasms that come out of nowhere and have you seeing stars. And this was no different - yet you see the pearly gates of heaven as you cream around his cock. “Ah! Hngh m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

He lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back, hips stuttering and sloppy now. Breathing out raggedly, “Yeah fuck jus’ like that use me like’ that- hngh squeezing me s’tight gonna cum. Gonna give my pretty baby my cum, fuck a baby into ya- oh-”

Body bowing into yours, teething latching onto the crook of your neck, biting down right over your pulse. Fingers digging and bruising on your hips, holding your filthy pussy to his cock as he cums with a strangled moan. Hard. almost painfully so. 

White-hot pleasure behind his eyes, pumping thick, hot ropes to fill your snug cunt. Just animalistic movements from such a carnal part of himself as he fucked his seed deeper and deeper into you. 

Not even thinking of stopping even as you keen at your poor overfilled pussy. Toji’s cum dripping down your legs and onto his quivering balls as he fucks you like an animal. Over and over and-

“Hey, who said we’re done, doll?” Toji tuts mockingly, snapping you out of the haze. “Don’t pass out on me just yet.”

And you don’t even realize it before he’s manhandling you onto the nearby couch. Pulling out only admire his seed gushing out of you, so white and hot and his. Cock twitching to life at the pool of cum and slick slowly forming on the cushion below. Fuck that, you’ll need a bigger couch for five people anyway.  

Ramming his throbbing cock into your poor, swollen pussy. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and bending down down down till your knees were at your tits. 

Not even bothering to let you adjust this time before he’s fucking you again and again and maybe he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear - probably it was just promises of how he was gonna fill your pretty lil’ cunt till Megumi gets home. Promises he fully intended to fulfill. 

“Fuck. One more. G-gotta make sure it takes, ma.” he swears into your mouth. Voice jagged, and you almost couldn’t recognize it as your boyfriend’s. Barely even lucid, just mindless motions of his hips as he watched your slutty cunt suck him up so good. “Yeah, who’s cum is that, doll? Who’s that painting your pretty pussy white?”

Drinking in the sobbed out little, “Y-you, Toji! Ah- Hngh-” as he starts ravaging your swollen clit again. Toji’s balls squeeze so painfully as he fucked you like his personal sextoy. And your pussy was so heavenly around him that you were basically asking for him to go harder. Begging. Begging him to ruin you. 

“Ah! Fuck I’m-” throat shot, you can’t even form a proper sentence before you’re seeing stars being your eyes. Walls milking Toji’s thick cock as you cum - almost painfully. Mouth dropping into a fucked-out little oh! tears streaking down your face. 

Ones that Toji can’t help but lick off, salty on his tongue as he cums again. And again and again. Voice stuck in his throat, eyes widening, the veins popping out on his arms as he pulls your hips closer to his. 

Hips burning now as he breeds you like some animal. Like he was ready to fill you up until he was shooting blanks and couldn’t anymore. Cum squelching out of your sloppy pussy and seeping into where you were joined. Ah, well, the couch was ruined - time for Plan B. 

Which is why Toji found himself wrestling you onto the cool floor, cock still twitching inside you, spreading you for him on whatever flat surface he could find. Milking his cock so he can cum more than he has his whole life. 

Both of you barely lucid at this point. He wasn’t even sure if he could cum again - but by God if he wasn’t going to try. He was drunk off of the feeling inside you, so warm and wet with him. So perfect to carry his child.

“Hngh- yes yes yes wan’ carry your child, daddy.” you whine. Oh shit, had he said that out loud? Ah, who gives a fuck at this point. The only thing he cared about now was the feeling of your sloppy lil’ pussy wrapped around him and whether Megumi would want a brother or a sister. 

“Hm, yeah? Like the idea huh, you little slut. Fuck s’perfect f’me- ngh-”

Running on just the sting of your nails down his back and your legs pulling him impossibly closer. Barely even thrusting at this point, just frantic shallow, grinds to milk his swollen cock. Trying to fuck out something delicious. It hurt, but it hurt so good. 

So good that Toji doesn’t even realize when he’s cumming again. Just faint little tingles before his cock is shooting thin, long wisps of cum, making you squeeze around him as he fills you up again and again.Your own orgasm just a small spike of euphoria before he starts moving inside you. Again.  

Ah, he wonders, vision hazy at the edges - but still perfectly capturing the white gushing out of your ravaged cunt. Taking in the messy floor, and your even messier pussy. Where to next, huh? He hasn’t even fucked you in the kitchen yet.

“N-next?” you repeat, eyes widening as much as they possibly could through the exhaustion and the urge to pass out. And oh he said that out loud too? Whoops.

“Of course.” he pools the cum trickling out of you on two fingers, shoving them in your mouth. Making your head spine as you choke and gag around his thick fingers, pressing the back of your tongue. Only two things ringing in your mind, Toji’s unforgiving cock - raw and hot, dragging against your ravaged walls again and again - and the words that spill from his lips.

“Besides, we gotta practice for the fourth one, too, ma.”

A/N. Fully believe this man will fuck you till both of you pass out. 

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[fairy-angel222]

𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ft Gojo Satoru

— Six years. He’s loved you for six years. He was too young back then but now he’s not. And he plans on showing you that.

᧔♡᧓ Semi Yandere! Gojo x Fem! Reader

᧔♡᧓ Content: age gap (gojo’s 21 n reader is 27), obsessive behavior, smut, pussy eating, porn with some plot, cheating while in talking stage, petnames, praise, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, gaslighting

᧔♡᧓ A/n: reader always saw gojo as a brother since he was so young, and never really developed feelings for him. it was just lust taking over when they fucked

Six years of friendship with your current best friend. Six years in which her little brother Gojo has had a crush on you. Six years of you only cooing with a giggle as you ruffled his fluffy white head of hair before calling his doting nature cute.

Six years.

Six years that he’s waited for you, becoming more of a man for you. Working out, gaining experience. It was all for you.

You’re twenty seven now, barely any different since the first time he met you. Your soft features still as beautiful as ever and your body just as perfect as he remembered. He’s studied you over the years. Every single time you came over. Studied your patterns, your every move, your likes, your dislikes, he’d even gotten to know your type.

He’d loved you since he was fifteen.

But he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s grown. Twenty one years old. Mature enough to be yours, to take care of you. He deserved you after waiting for so long. And he would show you. Show you that you needed him just as bad, craved him as much as he craved you. He’s the one for you, you just had to open your eyes and see that.

Gojo knows you feel at least a slight bit of attraction towards him. Hell, you’d called him handsome so many times— even though it had been strictly platonic— that you have to had felt something.. right?

On his eighteenth birthday you were there with him, his friends and his sister. He’d even brought a girl, introducing her as his girlfriend to try for a reaction out of you. But you didn’t bat an eye, you were genuinely happy for him. It made his jaw clench, but he was reminded of why he loved you. You were so sweet and caring. A big smile on your face as you embraced him in a hug, giving him the present that you’d been so excited to get. It was something that he had wanted for a while. A part of you saw him and his sister as the siblings you’d never had.

He didn’t need your gift, of course. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted. But it being from you made it special.. so so very special. Especially since you had listened to him. And it was his turn to return the favor. The random expensive gifts never stopped, every time you came over for the next three years it seemed that there was always something wrapped and waiting for you. Somethings just never change, you thought to yourself, piecing together that the boy’s crush had never left.

Then his gifts started getting more and more.. well, whatever you’d consider those matching lace sets that were accompanied a little note that made you swallow hard. Followed up by short dresses and eventually fancy shoes and purses to match. Not to mention the collection of jewelry you’d gotten from him.

Then he was.. less subtle, sending small smirks and winks your way. Finding any excuse just to be next to you or let his hands innocently wander during a hug.

You were not going to tell his sister. You didn’t want there to be any problems between them. You also couldn’t just start coming over less, she was like family to you. So you let his harmless crush continue.

…

Gojo swears luck was on his side, the universe wanting to make things easier for him. You had a boyfriend, a guy you worked with who was a good five years older than you. Like he said, you had a type, and he checked out none of these boxes. He knew everything about the dude, and he knew that he was not good enough for you. He tried to warn you, but what did you do? You smiled at what you took as him being worried about your well being.

So when you came knocking on his front door, flinging yourself into his sister’s arms as you cried into her shoulder. He knew. That asshole had broken your heart. He’d deal with it. He’d truly make the guy regret hurting you.

You were at his house all week, falling into the stage of the break up where you sat in your room (with their house so big you were bound to have one if your own) watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a string of adorable laughter. Anything to take your mind off the sting in your chest.

Then you were out. Everywhere. Going to clubs and parties with his sister just as you two did when you were a little younger. It was reckless, what if you got hurt? What is someone tried something? You were a sight for sore eyes after all. He would make sure to never let that happen. It was why he always accompanied you, whether you were aware of it or not. It was no surprise that you were never able to get laid, despite all the ogling eyes set on you.

…

Gojo leaned against the bathroom’s door frame as you emptied your stomach’s contents into the toilet in front of you. Small moans of displeasure filling the room as your body slumped against it. After math of a night full of drinking.

His arms were folded across his chest, muscles bulging through the tight black fabric which was paired with grey sweats which hung lowly on his hips. Gojo chuckled, pushing himself to stand straight before walking over to you. Stooping down to your current height with the shake of his head. “You should know better than this baby.”

Your brows furrowed, opening your mouth to question him before your head was over the bowl once more. Tears welling in your eyes at the massive headache that had sprung to life. “Shh shh shh baby.” He whispered, “let it all out, you’ll feel better soon.” He soothed, pushing stray strands away from your sweaty forehead while stroking softly at your hair. Whispering little words of encouragement as he held you, smiling sadly when the hug caused you to break down in his arms. No doubt reminding you of your recent breakup.

“Here, i brought you some panadol.” He reached for the two pills and the cup of water on the counter. Letting you sit with your back against his chest as he guided them up to your mouth, bringing the cup to your lips right after. “Here, drink it all okay?” You nodded, swallowing down the water along with the pain relievers. Gojo’s lips pressing softly to your head as he continued to stroke your skin.

You’d fallen asleep. And he’d laid you down on his bed instead of yours. Tucking you in and leaving you to rest.

Downstairs he found his sister, an empty cup sat in front of her along with the pill bottle. She’d clearly been hungover too. “Where is she?”

Gojo gave her a knowing look. “She’s sleeping.”

“Where?”

“My room.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, not liking the way she was watching him. Was she really that selfish over her best friend.

“Satoru.. she’s twenty seven. You need to get over this stupid little crush of yours and go find someone your own age. She doesn’t want you, she never will.”

Gojo seethed, fists already at his side as he stared angrily at his sister. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Satoru come on-“

“No.” His voice was firm, he didn’t look angry anymore, he looked hurt. “Just.. shut up, please.” A part of him knew that maybe he’d just never be enough for you.

…

Making his way back upstairs Gojo had a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs along with a glass of hot tea. He walked into his room to find your eyes only just fluttering open with the small stretch of your body. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the bright light while taking in your surroundings, realizing immediately where you were, and who was standing at the door.

“Oh.. Satoru, hi.” Your voice was timid, embarrassed to have been seen in your drunken state by the boy.

“Hey, how’s your head? I brought you breakfast.” He set the food down near the bed before taking a seat next to you. Allowing his fingers to play with the fallen hair from your bun.

“T-thanks.” You nodded, shifting to sit up before grabbing a strip of the crispy meat.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop staring at you. And you smiled in his direction, “thanks a lot, i should really get back to my room though.”

He shrugged, “or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He grinned. “Yet.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks heated up at that statement. “It’s okay, i think i’ll just-“

“Stay. Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll even put on your favorite.” Reaching for the remote to search for your favorite show. You bit your lip nervously, not understanding how he could act so normal after all the inappropriate gifts and advances.

His smile never faltered as his hand ‘accidentally’ found yours, slipping his fingers into your own. Not allowing you to let go even if you tried.

…

The next few days were.. good. Gojo had assumed that everything was going well. They were going well, until you decided to ruin everything.

Toji Fushiguro.

A forty something year old man with two children. That’s who you were talking to. Gojo didn’t appreciate how hard you making things for him. You were supposed to be his and he was supposed to be yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to come to him, so he went to you. Knocking on your door with vigor and a small scowl. When the door swung open you were mid-laugh, Toji coming into view behind you with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Seriously? You’ve been ignoring us for him? Him?” Gojo accused pointedly, “My sister misses you, she’s been crying. A lot. Says you’re choosing a guy over your friendship.”

His jaw was hard as he fed you lies through his teeth. Watching your eyes widen as you pondered. Were you ignoring your best friend? You’d seen her just earlier today. You guys had hung out, gone for lunch. Talked about who you both liked with big smiles and non stop giggles. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. “I.. I didn’t realize- i’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say, it made zero sense. But why would he lie?

Gojo silently cheered as you sadly asked Toji to leave. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek and promising to call him tomorrow. He was not very happy about the last part, but at least he was alone with you.

As soon as he left Gojo marched into your apartment. Nearly falling over his two feet when the scent hit him. Your scent, stronger than ever, that sweet strawberry smell that he’d grown to love.

“Satoru, i didn’t-”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. “It’s okay I forgive you.” Turning around for his hand to snake to the back of your neck, heart rate speeding up as he crashed his lips onto yours.

You whimpered in surprise, Gojo controlling the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. His lips quickly traveling down to your neck in desperation. “You know, i’ve waited so long. So fucking long. Waited for you. For us. I’ve given you everything, i’ve done everything. But it’s just never enough is it? You’re just too ungrateful huh baby?”

You moaned loudly. “Satoru.. what are you.. hmm.”

“I’m taking what’s mine baby. Taking what i deserve. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. I can take care of you.” His lips moved with force, sucking harshly at your skin as he kissed down your chest, free hand roaming to your ass with a squeeze. “I’m old enough to be yours. This isn’t just some crush anymore. I fucking love you.”

You could feel your heart pounding as he uttered the words you wished he hadn’t. “Satoru we can’t.. your sister’s my best friend. I’m still older than you.”

“She’ll get over it.” He breathed, making quick work of your tank top that clung deliciously to your tits. “We’re both consenting adults now aren’t we. If you tell me to stop, i’ll stop.”

Your mouth went dry, lips parting to demand him to go but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him too. What was wrong with you?

“So what will it be baby? Stop? Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop..” You mumbled in shame, avoiding his eyes as you looked away. Gojo’s fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to turn back to face him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, don’t stop.” You said a little louder, cheeks burning up under his touch.

“Good girl. I knew you were playing hard to get.” He grinned, “You love the chase as much as i do.”

Gojo’s arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you onto him before reattaching your lips. Carrying you to your bedroom to drop you onto the sheets. Lips never leaving yours as you both hurriedly undressed. He was addicted to you, and having you set fire to his veins. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Gojo dropped to his knees before you, kissing lightly at your pussy before enclosing it with his mouth. Tongue lapping you up hungrily as you moaned, fingers finding his hair with a tremble.

“Satoru— feels so good, haah.” You breathed, Gojo burying his face between your legs with a tight grip on your thighs. Allowing your legs to wrap around his neck as he devoured your sopping heat. You were so sweet— just like everything else about you. And he couldn’t help but rut against nothing as more blood rushed to his cock. Finding pleasure in getting to taste you after years of jerking off to the image.

He’s seen your room more than you, always snatching a pair of anything he could find. Just to be able to hold you in any way or form. Feel you on his skin. Touch something that had already touched you.

Gojo pulled away with his face glistening, “Learned how to do this just for you baby. Wanted to be good for our first time.” He smiled lazily, eyes dark with need as he got back to work, sending muffled groans into your bundle of nerves while you mewled loudly. Back arching with the curl of your toes before trying to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo growled lowly, fingers digging painlessly into your flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, tongue flicking at your clit before his lips closed around it. Sucking and swirling the sensitive bud into his mouth with a satisfied hum. All while you cried out above him, moans getting louder each time you called out his name.

It was like music. The sweetest song ever. Hearing you moan for him, moan out of pleasure, need, lust. Knowing that it was him making you feel so good. He almost came right there, determined to give you the best orgasm of your life with just his tongue. You tugged at his strands, your vision blurred in the nearing of your high.

“Satoru— o-oh fuck Satoru, ‘m gonna cum. Nngh, you’re gonna make me cum.” You moaned noisily, lewd slurps and sloppily kisses filling your ears as he made out with your wet pussy.

Gojo loved how much you were squirming, your legs tightening around his neck as you screamed. You actually screamed. He made you scream. His tongue was awaiting when you began to shake, toes curled and eyes rolled back as you squirted nonstop. The clear liquid gushing onto his face and tongue in long streams.

You whined at the overstimulation when he licked a stripe up your pussy. Collecting every last bit of your sweetness before standing up. You were panting, hard. And Gojo felt accomplished as he smirked. “Has any older man ever made you cum this hard baby?”

Your head was dizzy, trying to bring yourself back down to earth as you blinked up at him with the shake of your head.

He scoffed in pride, “Now try telling me that i’m too young for you now.”

Gojo was quick to lay you flat on the bed and crawl in on top of you. Consequences of your latest activities still fresh on his chin and chest. There were so many positions he wanted to take you in, but first he wanted to see you fall apart under him. See your face contort into one of pure bliss when he started pounding into you.

“You ready for me?” He husked, impressive cock already swiping up and down your slick filled folds. You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes with parted lips. “Ready.”

You both shared a drawn out moan when he nestled his cock past your tight entrance. Feeling him graze your gummy walls before reaching deep within you.

You felt so good, so tight.. warm. And he felt so deep, so big.. perfect.

“This pussy was made for me.” He grunted with a loud groan, slowly speeding up his pace till he was fucking into you with no end. Hips snapping into yours as his cock kissed your spot, prodding at your cervix with every hard thrust. “Fuck- look at how well you’re taking me. Fucking swallowing me all the way in.”

You only moaned in response, teary eyes meeting his sinful ones as he molded you around his cock. Making sure that you knew nothing but the shape of him, the feel of him, when you were done.

Letting out the whiniest cry, your arms reached up around his shoulders, clawing at his skin when you felt your stomach tighten.

You could feel him so deep, the roll of his hips allowing his fat tip to curl up and kiss exactly where you needed it most. The fast pace pulling short screams past your swollen lips.

“Satoru— haah, you’re so deep. I love it s’ much Toru. So m-much— ahh.” You couldn’t think straight, your brain only registering the way he was sliding in and out of you. It was all you could think about in that moment l, the way he felt.

Gojo watched you fall apart, just like he wanted. Your glossy eyes closing as your head fell further into the pillow, unable to control your noises as you got closer and closer.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me.” His voice cracked, cock twitching in an aching cry to get its release.

“S-satoru, ‘m so close. Gonna cum again.” You choked out, nails piercing into his broad back as your hands roamed down.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess f’ me again hmm? All that denying me, making me feel like our love was one sided. You put me through a lot you know.” He shook his head. “If only you knew the lengths i’d go for you.”

His eyes were crazed, and a shiver raked through your body at his words, whimpering as you succumbed to the building pleasure with a mewl. “O-oh fuckk.”

“Nuh uh, baby. Apologize to me first then you cum.” His tone was firm, serious. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Ahh, ‘m sorry Satoru— ‘m so so sorry. You’re goid enough f’ me. Mature enough. You’re perfect. Please let me cum. I need to cum.” You cried, the man on top of you pretending to ponder your words which went straight to his cock before smiling darkly. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.”

Your body shook as you yelled out his name, your surroundings becoming blank when you began to squirt messily, again. The intense orgasm seeming to stun all of your body’s systems as you failed to come back down. Gojo’s continued thrusts keeping pleasure flowing through your sensitive body.

“I love you so much baby. I always did. It makes me so happy that we can finally be together. Fuckk— ‘m all yours. All yours.” He buried his face in your neck, his own eyes closing shut as his body trembled, stilling inside your warmth before you felt his cum pumping into you in spurts. The thick substance coating your every wall in white.

“And now you’re mine.” He didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you in hopes of you two being connected forever. There was one thing he knew and you forgot. You hadn’t taken your birth control in a while, and a part of him hoped that you had seen this coming. That you wanted it. But one thing remained true either way, he was never letting you go.

[hiraethwrote]

i've always known - satoru gojo

[ satoru gojo - f!reader ]

✧ summary: you'd known each other since childhood, growing as close as two people could grow. there was not anything you didn't do together. but life doesn't always cooperate, creating hurdles even for the most tightknit relations ✧ cw: [MDNI] childhood best friends, afab!reader, college au, fluff!!, ofc some angst sprinkled in here, mentions of underage drinking, swearing, arguing, slightly ooc satoru maybe you be the judge, jealousy, poorly written eventual smut (be patient), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names, no use or y/n ✧ word count: 17.0k (yikes sorry)

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were six years old when you met him for the first time.

“Be nice and say hi, sweetie,” your mom spoke softly, only making you squeeze her hand harder and hide behind her.

“Hi,” you said more quiet than a whisper, if that was even possible, looking at the two strangers that had made themselves known.

But it wasn’t the unknown woman that had you so nervous, she seemed kind enough. It was the little boy next to her, a mop of crystal white hair hanging above his piercing blue eyes that were staring directly at you. With his hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, he flashed you a toothless grin.

“Hello, I’m Satoru,” his tone chipper, almost like the line was rehearsed. You only stared at him with eyes big as globes before turning towards your mom again.

“Mooom,” you nagged, pulling at her sleeve. “Can we go back inside?”

“In a minute,” she reassured you before turning towards the strangers. “I’m sorry, the moving has been a lot for her,” she chuckled nervously, but the unknown lady only smiled at her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she laughed kindly before turning to you. “I’m sure we’ll get to know each other with time.” She shot you a friendly wink, but you only shrunk further being your mom’s leg. Instinctively, she began to rub comforting circles on your back.

“We have no doubt,” she answered for you.

Still feeling Satoru’s eyes on you, you turned to him again. Instantly your eyebrows narrowed in annoyance, not understanding why he was still staring at you, like you were some kind of weirdo.

“I really came by to invite your family over for dinner tomorrow. Wish you welcome to the neighbourhood.” Your mother instantly beamed at the request.

“That’s so nice. We’d love too, right honey?” Shifting the focus to you again. You only shrugged, not daring to look away from the strange boy.

“Great. Just drop by anytime after five and we’ll be home.” The genuine smile only amplified the woman’s already gorgeous face.

Your mom broke the intense staring competition you had with Satoru with a slight shake of the hand. “Why don’t you tell them your name?”

Looking between the two strangers standing on your porch, you shyly mumbled your name, earning you another smile from the boy. What was his deal?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“Why don’t you show her your room, Satoru?” The man you assumed to be his dad had said nearly the second your family had stepped into their home.

You’d given your parents a pleading look, begging them to come to your rescue seeing as you were already attending the dinner against your will. With stern glares, you knew you had no choice but to follow Satoru.

With a safe distance behind him, you reluctantly followed him up the stairs, which lead to a door at the end of the long hallway. He was clearly a well mannered kid, surprising you as he actually held the door open for you to enter first.

Small steps lead you into his bedroom and your eyes instantly grew big in awe at the sight of the huge bedroom. It was probably twice the size of yours, filled with all the toys you could imagine. Strengthening your envy was the queen sized bed in the corner of his room, because you had always been told that big beds like that were for grown ups only.

But what captured your full attention was the bookshelves in the opposite side of the room filled with manga from the floor to the ceiling. Shuffling over to them, you let your eyes travel over the familiar titles, spotting all your favourite stories.

“Are all of these yours?” You asked, turning to see him already looking at you with his hands in his pockets. He simply nodded, a proud smile plastered on his face to reveal deep dimples on each side of his face.

Unfair, you thought to yourself. What you would give to have stacked shelves like that, so you’d be able to pick up a new manga the second you’d finished another one.

“How old are you?” The random question made you turn to look at him again, his pride shifted into curiosity with his head tilted.

“Six.” He instantly scrunched his nose, seriously unhappy with your answer.

“Hmm,” he scoffed, looking down at his feet. His reaction couldn’t help but offend you, crossing your arms over your chest and sticking your bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. “‘S not fair,” he mumbled as he kicked his feet.

“What isn’t fair?” You whined, drawing his eyes back to you.

“Well, I’m eight,” he complained, but that alone didn’t explain his tone. “So why are you taller than me?” Blinking at him in surprise, a small giggle began to take over your grumpiness. “It’s not funny!”

If your parents had seen you giggle in response to someone clearly upset, you would have earned yourself a strict scowl and a lesson when you got home. Lucky for you, they were downstairs mingling with their new neighbours, so the childish giggle came bursting out of you, causing your to slap both your hands over your mouth to contain yourself.

He knew you were teasing him, but he found himself enjoying the sound of your laugh a little too much to stay upset, his shoulders sinking and eyebrows raising in delight. A subtle blush dusted over his cheeks when he began to think he might just be a little smitten by you already.

Nonetheless, it was the start of your friendship. Throughout the dinner, the two of you held a never ending conversation, which surprised your parents considering how hostile you’d been to even the idea of getting to know the young boy next door.

Both of you put up a fight when it was time for you to leave once the clock had passed nine on a school night. You eventually had to settle for seeing each other again tomorrow. Still so excited to have a new friend, you couldn’t help but tell your parents everything you and Satoru had talked about.

“And he even said I could borrow his mangas if I wanted to!”

“That’s great, honey, but you really have to go to bed now!” Your mom chuckled as she followed you into the bedroom and tucked you in. “Why don’t you tell me the rest tomorrow, hm?” You nodded eagerly, before she placed a sweet kiss on your cheek and wishing you good night before leaving your bedroom with the door slightly ajar.

You wanted to drift into sleep, but you couldn’t find it in your body to rest. So like so many other nights, you walked over to your shelves to find something to read. You didn’t manage to get that far, when something outside your window caught your eye. Curiously making your way over, you climbed up on the stool, only to be staring right at Satoru standing in his own window directly across from yours.

It didn’t take long for him to spot you, instantly waving at you with his entire arm. With the same toothless grin you’d been greeted with the previous day, you waved back at him immediately before climbing back into bed more than satisfied.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were ten years old the first time he got grounded because of you.

Over the years, you’d just grown closer and closer for each time you hung out, which was pretty much every day. It was just a given that you would see each other at one point or another throughout the day. And if, for some odd reason, you hadn’t gotten the chance to meet up, you would catch up in the evening from your windows.

There was not a doubt that you two had become best friends. His house felt like a second home, nearly spending more time there than your own home.

Sadly, Satoru’s classmates didn’t think it was cool for him to hang out with someone who was ten. Unlike them, you were a child… and a girl, which meant you brought cooties

“Waiting for your boyfriend,” a taunting voice cooed as it gradually came closer, capturing your attention to meet three boys you recognised from Satoru’s class.

“Not my boyfriend,” you mumbled to yourself, not wanting to give them the attention they so desperately wanted. Turning away from them, you tried to ignore their rapid approach. But before you knew it, they had you surrounded.

“You know, he doesn’t really like hanging out with you.” Glaring daggers at the boy standing right in front of you, you chewed the inside of your cheek in an attempt not to let him get to you. “He’s got better things to do than hang out with stupid girls.”

You tried to cling onto the advice your mother had told you time and time again; if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. But in this moment, that seemed like the worst possible advice. Why should you just stand there and take it when they were throwing all these mean words at you?

“You’re just upset you can’t get anyone to talk to you!” Your voice was venomous, but it didn’t seem to have any affect on him as they only snickered in response.

“Think you’re funny?”

“Just leave me alone!” You fired back, challenging his patronising look at you. For a few seconds, he held your stare before he launched forward and yanked your manga right out of your tiny hands. “Hey! Give it back!” Despite being as tall as the dumb boy, he managed to keep it just out of your reach, no matter how far you tried to stretch for it.

“I’m just having a look,” he laughed as he began to recklessly flip through the pages. From each side of you, you could hear both of his friends laugh to egg him on.

Panting and whining, you tried to reach for your book, but froze in place when you heard the sound of paper ripping. Staring at the manga in his hands, you saw how he had started to tear crumbled pages from the spine. With fake sincerity, he squeaked a small “ops” and continued to laugh. Unable to peer your eyes away from your favourite manga in pieces, the tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes. “Awe, are you crying?”

The tears didn’t have time to fall, when a familiar figure came zooming in front of you and crashing into your bully, instantly knocking him to the ground, causing him to scrape his knee. While he kept squirming on the ground, Satoru instantly snatched the book from his hands.

“I told you to leave her alone,” Satoru growled at the boy as he stumbled back on his feet, blood steaming through his torn jeans. His brows were narrowed in pure anger, telling you he was about to retaliate towards your friend, but Satoru sported a stern posture and a look that one would be stupid to defy.

Soon enough, it seemed like the pain set in after a few seconds, and the anger in his eyes turned glossy, trying to hide the fact that his bottom lip was quivering and his nostrils were flaring like he was about to cry.

Satoru shot an ugly glare at the two other boys, who didn’t seem sure what to do with themselves. “You want to taste the gravel as well?” Satoru threatened, the three boys sharing a worrying look. It didn’t take long before they decided to scatter with their tail between their legs. The boy who’d ruined your book, trying to conceal a limp but failing terribly.

The second they had their backs turned to you, Satoru turned his full attention to you with a softened expression, genuinely worried. “You okay?” He hurried to ask, scanning you from top to toe to see if there were any visible injuries. However it was only your pride, and your manga, that was wounded.

Looking down at his hands, the tears came back right away at the scene of the mangled book.

“I’m fine,” you said under your breath, eyes still glued to the manga. Struggling to find the right words to comfort you, his eyes jumped between your glistening eyes and the torn book in his hands.

“I have this one at home! You can have mine, I never liked it anyway,” he rambled as he began to wave the book around, growing more uncomfortable as he saw the small tears roll down your red and puffy cheeks. “And don’t worry about them! They’re just stupid! And jealous. And, and-“ his frantic words stopped in his throat, forming into a nervous lump when you flicked your eyes up to meet his.

Despite the redness in them and the sniffling of your nose, he couldn’t help but think you looked pretty. Which only made him feel even worse, that someone could be so cruel to you.

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, wiping away the snot and tears from your face. “Thank you for stopping them.” In defeat, you grabbed the manga out of his hands and stuffed it into your backpack, not caring if you ruined it any further.

“C’mon, let’s go home.” He placed a friendly hand on your shoulder, and you began to walk home like usual.

The walk home was mostly quiet, Satoru not daring to say anything, not knowing what to say. He wanted to help, make you feel better, but all the things that popped into his head just felt like it wouldn't be enough. So when you reached your house, you simply waved him goodbye before disappearing.

Once he entered his own home, his parents were on his neck instantly. They were furious, because they’d received an angry phone call from a distraught parent explaining how Satoru had purposely attacked their son.

Satoru had tried to explain the situation and defend himself, saying he couldn’t just let them pick on you like that. Somehow, the heroic gesture didn’t seem to outweigh when the kid had walked home with a bloody knee, bawling his eyes out.

“You never resort to violence, Satoru,” his father had yelled at him, before they told him he was grounded for a week. Satoru was speechless. He had never been grounded before, and he didn’t understand why he was being punished when he firmly believed he had done the right thing.

Unable to defend himself further, he stomped to his room and started his homework like he had been told to do. He didn’t get much work done though, as he mostly moped the entire evening, neurotically tapping his pen against the textbook.

You, much like Satoru, spent the entire evening in your bedroom. For the first two hours, you just laid in your bed, sulking. Eventually you wanted to talk to someone — not just someone, Satoru. You made your way to the windowsill, waiting for him to show. And you waited. And waited. And waited some more.

It wasn’t until you were about to head to bed you saw his silhouette cracking open the window slowly. Jumping up, you opened your window immediately. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon!”

“Shhh, you gotta keep it down,” he said softly, barely able to hear him. “I’m not allowed to talk to you right now.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What? Why?” Leaning forward in the window frame, resting your head on your forearms.

“I’m grounded,” he shrugged, checking over his shoulder every now and then to make sure no one came to check in on him.

“For what?”

“Because I shoved him. He ran like a crybaby, making it seem worse than it was.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, so incredibly frustrated by the outcome.

“Really? I can explain what happened to your parents-“ he waved his hands out the window to stop you.

“I tried. They were quite upset. But it’s no big deal. It’s just a week.”

“So, I won’t be able to see you for a week?” You complained, to which he only looked at you with big eyes. It hadn’t really hit him that he wouldn’t be able to hang out with you while he was grounded, which only made this terrible situation even worse.

Pursing his lips in thought, he opened his mouth again to speak. “Guess we’ll just have to be sneaky with window meetings at night,” he laughed, making you laugh along as well.

“I guess so.”

“I gotta go to bed before mom and dad finds me talking to you,” he sighed. “So, guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.” Before he managed to shut his window, you called his name again.

“Hey, Satoru?” Looking back at you with big eyes, you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you for today. It really meant a lot!”

Looking at your glowing gratitude, he did not regret his actions for a single second. He even knew, should the opportunity arise, he would not hesitate to defend you again. He’d risk all the punishment in the world if it meant having you looking at him like that again.

“Good night, ‘Toru,” you smiled sweetly, his heart doing a small flip at the sound of his new nickname.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were fifteen years old when Satoru finally grew passed you.

And once he passed you, it seemed like he never stopped. It wasn’t just you he passed, it was all his peers as well. And as he grew, so did his ego to match it. Of course, this also resulted in him endlessly teasing you.

“Imagine you used to be taller than me,” he laughed and placed his hand on top of your head.

“Yeah, and you’re the only one who cares,” you sighed, swiftly removing his hand from your head.

This all happened about the time you started high school, something Satoru had looked forward to since he himself first started high school. It finally gave you a chance to hang out during school hours, as you’d mostly been restricted to your classrooms in lower grades. He was also excited to introduce you to the small life he had there, which previously had been separated from you.

There was no doubt that Satoru Gojo, along with his small crew, were insanely popular. They basically ruled the school and they all welcomed you with open arms.

So, by association, you too became popular.

You fitted into his group perfectly, getting along with both Shoko and Suguru pretty much right of the bat. So he shouldn’t really have been complaining — except for the unforeseen circumstances that came with other people finally noticing you.

Ever since you were young, you hadn’t made a huge number of yourself, remaining somewhat anonymous, happy doing your only thing. Satoru had basically been your only friend. He knew he could never mention it to anyone, but he really enjoyed having you all to himself.

So when he noticed all the lingering looks you received just walking down the hall, some unfamiliar anger began to take shape in him.

Pretty much from your first day, he was bombarded with questions from his classmates. Who’s your friend? Is she single? Why aren’t you dating her? Will you introduce me? It got old real fast, and Satoru only found himself growing more and more frustrated by it, coming up with silly excuses to lead them in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, no, she’s- uhm, she’s single but her dad promised her a car if she doesn’t date ‘til she’s eighteen.”

They all gave him the same weird look. “If you’re seeing her, just say so.”

“No! We’re just friends!” He always rushed to defend himself, which always earned him a roll of their eyes before they shrugged off his weird behaviour. Lucky for him, his reputation saved him from anyone pushing it any further.

Despite his best efforts to keep guys at bay, there were still a few headstrong individuals who didn’t care about Satoru’s lame excuses or status, they still tried to pursue you. So to fend them off, he had other ways to make you seem unapproachable; excessive physical touch.

You never thought twice about it, as he had never been a stranger to physical touch. It wasn’t unusual for him to throw his arm over your shoulders when walking, or fidget with your fingers when he needed something to stimulate his agitation. You’d gotten so used to it over the years, that you’d simply grown accustomed to it.

After a while, most of the guys in school seemed to get the message that you were off limits. The hassle of his consistent protection for you combined with his position in the school, it just wasn’t worth it — that was ignoring some of the most persistent seniors, but he only found their attempts amusing as you so obviously found them disgusting.

Nonetheless, with time he could deem himself satisfied with the lack of male attention you received.

“So you’re joining us this weekend right?” Suguru, one of Satoru’s close friends, asked during lunch. You only narrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion. What you didn’t notice, was Satoru sitting beside you, furiously trying to stop Suguru from explaining further, glaring at him and waving his hands like a maniac.

“What’s this weekend?”

“Satoru didn’t tell you about the party?” A taunting smirk danced on his lips as he completely ignored Satoru’s disappointed glare. When you turned to question him, he immediately wiped off his disappointment and flashed you a shy smile.

“Party?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t really planning on going so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to regain his ‘cool’ act.

“That’s not what you told us yesterday,” Shoko scoffed, a smirk matching Suguru’s plastered on her face.

It was in moments like these, you became incredibly aware of the age difference between the two of you. Sure, it was only two years, which you’d never thought much of — until you started high school. His interests and desires skewed in a more mature direction, which you weren’t necessarily ready for. It had become a lot more usual for him to go out with his friends during weekends. Even though he usually returned home early and met you at the window, it still sucked.

Did you want to go to the party? No, not really. But if you were being honest, you were absolutely terrified of Satoru slipping away from you if you weren’t able to keep up with him. Besides, you only felt guilt at the thought that he might have changed his mind about going because of you. So what harm could it do to attend, even if it was for just an hour?

“I mean, if you want to go,” you trailed off, wanting so much to seem natural about it all. “I don’t wanna stop you.” With a small shrug, you were almost certain to managed to seem casual.

“So that’s a yes?” Shoko cheered quietly from the opposite side of the table.

“I guess so,” a small chuckle leaving your lips.

Satoru, on the other hand, wasn’t as excited about you joining them as his friends. Nervously bouncing his leg under the table, he began to imagine all the things that could happen. He tried to tell himself the main reason he was so upset about the whole thing was that he was concerned something bad might happen, but in reality, he hated the idea of an arena for random dudes to hang over you all night.

You interrupted his spiralling when you suddenly raised from the table. “I have to run by the library before class,” you sighed before you rushed off, Satoru’s eyes never leaving you until you’d left the cafeteria.

“What is your deal?” Shoko laughed, drawing his attention back to the table. “Since when do you turn down a party, even if you leave after an hour?”

“I don’t know, just don’t think it’ll be her scene, that’s all,” he excused himself, picking at his food, suddenly not having an appetite anymore.

“I know you two, like, grew up together or whatever, and you have this strange need to protect her, but she’s able to take care of herself. You’ve seen how she talks to Fushiguro,” she laughed again.

“It’s not that,” he sighed, avoiding making eye contact with his friends.

“You remember what it was like to be a freshman. Things like these are exciting,” Suguru shot in. Satoru simply shrugged at his comment. “Look, we’ll all keep an eye on her. And you don’t drink anyways, so you’ll be more than sober enough to make sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Satoru mumbled and stood up from his seat, still not looking at them. “I’ll see you guys later.”

And before you knew it, the weekend came rolling in and you found yourself clutching onto Satoru’s arm for dear life, scared you’d lose him in the crowd.

“We can leave if you want to,” he leaned down to say nearly the second you’d entered the house.

“No, no. It’s fine. Let’s just… find Shoko and Suguru.”

It was a lot to take in. People singing and dancing, chugging drink after drink. But your nerves calmed down when you felt Satoru’s strong hands squeeze yours in reassurance. And once you found the others, your body just felt a lot more at ease. It didn’t take long for you to actually enjoy yourself, even though you decided to stay away from the alcohol, at least for this time.

What wasn’t as enjoyable, was all the female attention Satoru received throughout the evening. It was no secret he was a popular guy, girls lining up to talk to him. But when it came to the girls at school, they mostly just gawked and giggled while he innocently entertained their interests. No, these girls were different. They had clear intentions of taking it further, giving him looks you did not appreciate.

And it bothered you. Oh lord, how it bothered you.

Sitting so close to you, his leg pressed up against yours, you sadly got a front row view of when the girls leaned over and batted their long eyelashes at him, flashing him seductive smiles. You were beyond uncomfortable, trying to look anywhere but scene taking place mere inches from you.

You had no reason to be upset — you were only friends and you’d only ever been friends. Never had the idea of anything else crossed your mind, but you hadn’t ever witnessed ladies glue themselves to him like this before.

“Hey, you okay?” Satoru interrupted your thoughts, turning over to see he was focused on you, the girl at his side quirking an eyebrow.

“‘M fine,” you mumbled, a small smile drawing at your lips. He scanned your face, taking a deep sigh in thought, reading you so clearly.

Out of nowhere, Satoru jumped up from his seat, holding his hand out for you to grab. He wore that award winning smile of his as he opened his mouth, “come on.”

A smile grew on your face to match his as you eagerly let him pull you off the couch before he playfully threw his arm over your shoulder, leading you out the living room. As you walked, you swore you could hear the girl he talked to earlier scoff.

“How does ice cream sound to you?” Looking down at you as he shielded out the tight crowd as he lead you out the door.

And as the two of you left the party, there was laughter on your lips and a genuine, special joy in your eyes you seemed to have reserved only for each other. Shoko and Suguru, however, kept a confused eye on you as you exited the house.

“I’ll never understand them,” Shoko shook her head, before turning to look at her friend who seemed just as frustrated by you and Satoru as she was. “I mean, they’re clearly into each other, right?”

Suguru exhaled sharply through his nose in what sounded like it was supposed to be a chuckle. “It’s weird if they aren’t.”

“When he talked about her before, I just figured they were best friends, like he said. But after meeting her and seeing them together-“

“No, I agree,” Suguru laughed before she was able to finish her sentence. “I’ve never seen ‘best friends’ act like they do.” Shoko nudged his side with her elbow to bring his attention to the girl Satoru had flirted with seconds before he had just stranded her alone on the couch, to see she was pouting, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the door like she was waiting for him to return.

“Neither has she,” she laughed.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were seventeen years old the first time you had your heart broken. Really broken.

Standing outside your boyfriend — no scratch that. Standing outside what was now your ex boyfriend’s front door, you tried to wrap your head around what had just happened, silent tears falling slowly down your face.

It had come out of no where. Yesterday, everything had seemed fine, and now he had suddenly come to the conclusion that you were no longer a good match? It made no sense.

Shaking your head as you took a deep breath, you knew there was only one person who might be able to help you feel a little better. Not to mention, he was probably the only person in the universe right now you could stand to see at all.

The fifteen minute walk from where you’d just had your heart stomped on to your neighbourhood had never felt longer. The silence that filled the dark and abandoned streets was numbing, leaving more room for the self deprecating thoughts to fill your mind. What had you done wrong? What could you have done differently? Was there someone else, someone prettier and funnier than you? Had you not been dedicated enough?

Despite the insane sadness that filled you, you thought if it were to happen, this weekend was probably the best timing, seeing as you wouldn’t have been able seek comfort had it happened any other time. Having taken a gap year after high school to earn money, Satoru worked a lot but he had for once gotten a weekend off. And his parents were out of town on some conference, meaning there was no risk of either of them opening the door to greet your grief struck face.

Soon enough you found yourself in front of the familiar front door, a tiny lump forming in your throat as you placed three soft knocks on the door. Before you knew it, Satoru stood right in front of you, his initial reaction of joy melting away once he processed you were upset.

“What happened?” His voice was so soft, eyes filled with worry.

“Can I come in?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah! Of course.” He stepped aside, letting you pass him and enter his home. “You want anything? Is this like an ice cream kinda situation, because I think we have some cookie dough flavoured in the freezer.”

A broken chuckle slipped out of you, followed by a sob. “No, thank you, I’m fine. Just needed to see you,” you sniffled furiously.

“Yeah, sure.” Without saying another word, you simply helped yourself up the stairs and to his bedroom. His eyes never left you as you carefully sat down on his bed and he sat down on his desk chair.

Uncomfortable wasn’t necessarily the word he’d use for seeing you like this, because it had happened before — just not very often. You’d always been a quiet charmer, if there was a way to describe it. Out of the two of you, he’d always been the loud and outgoing one, but he definitely saw you as the one who spread the most joy to those around you, a natural sense of cheerfulness radiating from you. Not to mention you were usually the one who stood for the comforting and advice, meaning he was at a loss on what to do.

“What happened?” He asked carefully.

“We broke up.” The words left you so quickly and easily, Satoru had to blink a few times to realise what you’d just said. “Or he broke up with me is probably more correct.” You avoided his gaze, staring directly at your hands tucked between your thighs, the tears leaving dark circles on your jeans.

“I thought things were going well.”

“So did I.” You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, still sniffling like crazy. “I know you never liked him and didn’t get along with him but I really liked him, y'know?”

A pang of guilt came crashing in over Satoru. He hadn’t been subtle about his dislike for your boyfriend, and it started before the two of you even became official. He did not miss the opportunity to throw a snide comment about him when you brought him up or constantly quarrel on the few occasions they were in the same room. But he couldn’t help it.

Satoru had been so focused on all the guys lining up for you in school, he hadn’t even thought of the boys that might find their way to you from elsewhere.

He still remembered the evening you came home from work at the coffeehouse, such a sweet smile on your face and a blush across your nose when he’d met you at the window that night. So giddy over this cute boy who’d chatted you up and ended up getting your number. Had Satoru known then he’d break your heart this badly, he’d tried harder to shut it down.

“I know I gave him a hard time, but I know you liked him,” he tried to comfort you. “And I’m certain he cared for you too. It’s hard not to.”

“Urgh, I’m such an idiot,” you cracked, hiding your face in your hands as the sobs just tumbled out in one steady stream.

“Hey,” Satoru said, rushing out of his chair to crouch in front of you. Tenderly he grabbed ahold of your wrists to remove them from your face, carefully trying to dry the tears away. “You’re not an idiot, okay?”

A small scoff made its way out of you between the sobs. “I’m not even sure he ever cared about me.”

When your name rolled off his tongue with more compassion than you’d ever heard from him before, your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Listen to me! I am certain he did. I know what you dedicated to that relationship, and he’d be crazy not to care for you. Not just crazy, but a damn magician as well because it’s genuinely impossible. Believe me, I know.” A small smile grew on his lips when he heard he was able to draw a small chuckle out of you. “You’re not an idiot. You just have a big heart. And he’s the idiot if he thinks he should let it go.”

He dried what seemed to be one of your last tears with his thumb, before tucking some of your hair behind your ear. His caring gaze traveled your face, taking in every detail he could when the memory from when you were kids popped into his mind. Just like that time, looking at you all red and puffy, he again found himself thinking you were pretty. Not just pretty — beautiful.

“Thank you, ‘Toru,” you whispered.

“Any time.”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Scandalous,” he said dramatically, earning him another shy smile from you. Both of you knew you didn’t have to ask, having slept over hundreds of time throughout the years.

“Who knew you were so good at this,” you smiled weakly as he stood up to go get the extra duvet he had in his closet, which was basically just an extra duvet for you.

“Pfft, I am Satoru Gojo after all. Is there anything I can’t do?” He flashed you a proud grin, instantly rolling your eyes at him.

“You’re not the greatest cook last time I che-“ before you were able to finish your sentence, a pillow came crashing into your face. A lighthearted giggle escaped you, and again Satoru felt his heart flutter a little, so pleased he’d managed to brighten your terrible evening a little bit.

“Watch it, sweetheart, or I’ll have you sleep on the floor.”

“You would never,” you smiled before grabbing one of Satoru’s t-shirts, like you always did, and headed for the bathroom.

Once you met your reflection in the mirror, your eyes grew as all the signs of tonight’s sorrow was incredibly visible on your face. And to think Satoru had seen you like this, knowing he’d tease you endlessly about it once things settled down and you could laugh about it all.

Your eyes were swollen from all the crying, mascara lines down your puffy cheeks. Still sniffling, you cleaned your face, dabbing a hot cloth in hopes you might redeem some of your dignity as you washed away your heartbreak. Looking in the mirror, a sigh left you knowing that this was probably as good as it was going to get. At least you didn’t have makeup smeared all over your face anymore.

Shuffling back into his bedroom, wearing his t-shirt nonetheless, a small lump formed in his throat at the sight of you as he had to fight the urge to let his eyes indulge in your entire figure. What was going on? A million times had you spent the night, and a million times had you gone to bed wearing his shirt, yet tonight felt different. He felt there was something in the air that had shifted, but it went unsaid. So without another word, he simply made his way passed you and to the bathroom. You, on the other hand, paid no attention to his odd behaviour, simply laying down on the bed on the side closest to the wall, your side.

Despite not picking up on his averted gaze, you too sensed there was something in the atmosphere that seemed different than usual, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what. You could easily just blame the breakup, which was definitely lingering in the air, but you knew that wasn’t quite it either. There was something in the tension that you felt were directly connected to Satoru.

When you felt his weight press down on the bed next to you, you reactively turned to look at him, surprised to see he was already laying on his side looking right back at you. Staring deeply into your eyes, you felt as if he was trying to tell you something but you couldn’t make it out.

Same went for Satoru, as he felt it deep down that there was something he needed to tell you but he had no idea what it was, only that it weighed heavier on him now that the evening had been so emotional and raw.

“‘Toru?”

“Hm?”

“What was it about him you didn’t like?” Satoru couldn’t help but smirk somewhat shamefully.

“It’s not important,” a slight chuckle slipping out of him.

“With a smile like that, you have to tell me.” Satoru readjusted his head on the pillow, ending up even closer to your face than intended but neither of you pulled away.

“Well, I like it best when I have you to myself.”

“Please,” you scoffed, tucking one of your hands under your cheek, carefully tilting forward a little. “That’s ridiculous, even for you.”

“No, I’m serious,” he gave you a sweet smile. “We’ve been so close for so long, it’s weird suddenly having to share you.”

You took a deep sigh, your heart skipping a small beat at his answer. “Well, I had to share you first.”

His eyebrows instantly pinched together into a frown, a humorous smirk on his lips. “Excuse me?”

“So you’ve forgotten when you first started high school? It was always ‘Suguru this’ and ‘Shoko that’.”

“That’s not the same,” he mocked you.

“How’s that not the same?” Offended at his disregard for your experience of him suddenly having a bigger social circle, you knew it was all in a playful manner.

“Because-” was all he managed to get out before you noticed his eyes betraying him as they quickly glanced down at your lips, before looking back into your eyes. Drawing a sharp breath, you swore you might be able to spot a strong blush heat his face, but it was too dark to tell for sure.

He exhaled a shaky breath, which you felt brush against your face making you realise just how close you were to each other.

All the hairs on your body stood up when you felt his light touch brush against your arm that was resting between you. Was this weird? You didn’t know. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d touched you like this, so what was making tonight so different?

One slight movement and your noses would grace against each other. He could do it, he could just tilt his head forward and his lips would connect with yours and he was certain it would be delicious. Your eyes had captured his gaze, and he felt as if he could stare into them forever-

No, stop!

You flinched at his sudden movements when he pulled away to turn around, with his back facing you.

His heart sunk into his stomach, mentally cursing himself now that he wasn’t facing you anymore. He couldn’t believe he had actually wanted to kiss you, his best friend. It wouldn’t be right, especially not tonight when you were as vulnerable as you were. He’d be a complete asshole to take advantage of that. Not to mention how embarrassed he would have been in the morning when you weren’t trapped under the haze of heartbreak and would have realised how much of a mistake it had been.

“Good night,” he said in his usual, cheerful tone and the curse was broken.

The next morning, you’d woken up to an empty bed, much like you always did when you spent the night. What was out of the ordinary, was seeing him in the kitchen in full swing serving pancakes and ice cream calling it “the breakfast for breakups”.

You couldn’t tell if you were hurt or not by how he was acting, as if last night never happened. Was he not going to mention how close the two of you had been to locking lip? He simply went about the morning, just as happy as he always was.

And never brought it up.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were eighteen years old when you and Satoru fell apart.

Satoru had left for college, and at first you’d been so lost on what to do. For the first time since you were six, he wasn’t immediately at your side.

You remembered the day he left so clearly, clinging on around his neck, refusing to let go because you didn’t want him to get in his car and drive off, unsure when you’d see him again. When the two of you eventually managed to break the hug, you heard a not so subtle sniffle and spotted faint redness around his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re crying, ‘Toru,” you teased in between your own sniffles.

“You got me there,” he said with a sad chuckle slipping out, surprising you that he didn’t even attempt to fire back, just surrendering to his emotions. “Gonna miss you.”

“Gonna miss you too,” you whispered in response. Not much more was spoken before he drove off, like it all was just too much for either of you to talk about.

The first few days you didn’t do much else than lay in bed and wait for him to call, like he promised he would. And exactly at 8 pm, your phone lit up with his name where he told you all about how hectic his days were — and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to have daily calls anymore once the semester started for real.

“No, of course. I mean, I go back to school soon too so.”

And as the time went on, the calls got more and more rare. From every day, to three times a week, once a week, until you were lucky it happened every fourteen days.

Even though you hated it, you couldn’t blame him. Of course he was busy, he had an entirely new everyday life filled with classes and new people. And when he did make time for the phone call, you couldn’t help but feel genuine happiness when you heard how excited he was about all of it. But you knew you couldn’t keep sitting around sulking as you waited for his call. You decided you had to be okay without him.

It was your senior year after all — it was your time to shine, and you were still with the popular crowd even though Satoru wasn’t there anymore. Now you finally had the opportunity to get to know them better.

Turned out you had more in common with them than you thought, getting particularly close with the girls of the group. And it was refreshing to have girl friends, who seemed to match some of your interests in a way Satoru never managed to. Your horizons just expanded, your schedule packed nearly from morning until night. Not to mention your weekends were also busy. The parties you and Satoru usually left early or skipped all together, had become fun.

This weekend was no different. Sitting at your vanity doing your makeup for the evening when you heard your mom’s voice yell from downstairs. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Just send her up,” you yelled back. But when you turned around to face who you thought was your friend who was coming to get ready with you, your jaw dropped at the sight of the tall figure standing there instead.

“Her? Not the last time I checked,” Satoru smiled.

“Oh, my god, ‘Toru!” You squealed in excitement, running at him as you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, smiling even harder when he hugged you back just as firmly.

When he let you down, your eyes was instantly drawn to his. It’s been so long since you’d been able to stare into those captivating, blue eyes, and now you melted having them look down on you for the first time in months. Now that you were finally able to see him again, to touch him again, it hit you like a semi truck just how much you had missed him. You even found yourself getting a little emotional, blinking away the wetness in your eyes.

“God, don’t wanna ruin my makeup,” you laughed.

“I was just about to say, you look great,” he said, unable to peer his eyes off you, because ‘great’ was an understatement.

“Why, thank you,” you beamed at him, a smile stretching from one ear to another.

“Going somewhere?” His eyebrows narrowed, letting his chipper composure slip for just a second but he quickly tried to shake it off.

“Yeah, there’s a party tonight. The group’s going, but I can cancel if-“

“No, of course not. I’m home all weekend.” There was a slight twinge in your heart, disappointed that he didn’t have the guts to accept your offer. There was not a single ounce of doubt that you’d drop the party for him in a heartbeat — you had after all longed for him to come home to visit since the second his car had driven out of view the day he left.

“Well, maybe you could come along?” You suggested, grabbing his hands in yours.

“I just think I’m going to stay home with my parents tonight,” he swallowed, giving you a weak smile.

He knew he should have just taken you up in the offer to ditch the party, but he didn’t have the heart to, especially when you were all dolled up for the evening already.

All he’d looked forward to was come home and hang with you and catch up all night, never falling asleep because he had missed your voice so much. But he knew that eventually, the guilt would eat him up, hogging you for the night when you were supposed to be somewhere else.

Now he had to sit at home, alone and bored, because he had lied when he told you about his parents, seeing as they weren’t back in town until tomorrow. He knew he would spend the night miserable, but it would beat having to tag along at your heels to a party he didn’t want to attend in the first place and witness how close you’d gotten to all your new friends while he’d been away, still preferring to have you to himself.

“Will you at least stay until I leave? And then I’m all yours for the whole of tomorrow?” For the time being, he managed to let his blues slip away, especially when you gawked at him with a sparkle in your eyes and an infectious smile.

“Of course.” His eyes followed your cheerful walk back to your vanity as he sat down on your bed. Once seated, your conversation flowed like normal, as if no time had passed at all since the last time you saw each other. He told you about classes and how much more difficult it was now, especially seeing as he wasn’t the biggest fan of studying.

And he knew he should be excited when you told him everything about your new life. How you’d finally taken the time to get the know the rest of the group and how great they all were, how fun you had it with all of them with all the stuff you guys did in your spare time, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t sting. He felt as if he was missing everything, losing the spot he used to have with you, replaced by his old friends. He knew it was unfair to think that way, but but there was no stopping his doomed spiralling.

“Oh, and that’s probably her coming now!” You perked up when footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. The next second, a girl he knew used to be in his friend group stood in the doorway.

“Satoru? What a pleasant surprise,” she beamed at him, and guilt hit him when he couldn’t even remember her name.

“Yeah, just home for the weekend,” he smirked at her.

She flashed him another smile before turning to you. “You ready?”

“Just about,” you sighed. Quickly, you grabbed your purse and skipped over to Satoru. “See you tomorrow, okay?” You said cheerfully as you placed a quick peck on his cheek before running out, leaving him standing alone in your bedroom.

He stared dumbfounded at the empty space you occupied just seconds ago, still surprised by the kiss as it was something completely new. Was that something you’d picked up from the group? Did that mean you went around kissing everyone’s cheeks? His mind ran crazy with questions, all making him equally jealous.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whispered into the phone still ringing. It was the third time you had tried to call Satoru and he still hadn’t picked up, which was incredibly unlike him. He always picked up almost immediately, especially when you were calling.

“Hey,” you finally heard him sigh on the other end of the line.

“Thank god you answered,” you said, teeth chattering in the freezing cold. “Could you please, please, please pick me up?”

“You okay?” There was a hint of worry in his voice, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to conceal it.

“No. Or yes. Or I don’t know, but I’m cold and I need to go home!” Another sigh.

“Where are you?”

“You’re my angel,” you breathed before giving him the address.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” Before you managed to say goodbye, Satoru had already hung up. You stared blankly at the phone for a few seconds in shock of his abrupt ending, but right now, you were too cold to ponder any further on his behaviour. Tightly having folded your arms around yourself and rubbing your legs together, you desperately tried to get some heat in your body.

Finally, you saw the familiar car pull up in front of you, a sigh of relief leaving your body once you were greeted by the hot air as you sat down in the passenger seat.

“You’re really a life saver,” you spoke as you leaned your head back on the headrest, waiting to meet his eyes but he never turned to look at you. His eyes were glued to the road, a tight grip on the steering wheel as he kept chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You okay, ‘Toru?”

“‘M just fine,” he answered simply, still fixated on the road.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” You snorted, which made him quickly turn his head to give you a cold glare before looking at the road again.

“How come you were standing out in the cold all alone?” When he didn’t acknowledge your question further, you just fell back into your seat again and decided not to take it any further.

“You don’t wanna know,” you sighed, staring out the window.

“No, I’m curious.” If his tone told you anything, it was that he was pissed. You just hoped it wasn’t directed at you.

“I was kicked out.”

“What, too drunk to be in the house?” His comment caught you off guard at it seemed nothing but spiteful. You flipped your head to look at him again, only to see he was still unwilling to look at you.

“Do I seem too drunk to you?” He only shrugged, knowing the answer was ‘no’. “If you wanna know, I-“ you stopped yourself from finishing, too embarrassed to utter the words.

“Don’t get shy on my behalf.”

“I was about to sleep with someone, but after we undressed, something came over him and he just threw me out,” you complained, crossing your arms and staring at the road like he had earlier.

“You what?” Satoru exclaimed, and now he finally decided to shoot you a glare. “Who?”

“Does it matter?” You shrugged, avoiding his gaze which you knew was just purely judgemental. It seemed he was more upset about the part where you were going to sleep with someone than the fact that you were literally thrown out, which only ended up fuelling your own anger.

“Who was it?” He repeated sternly.

“Just some guy I met there, I don’t know,” you shrugged, and instantly a loud huff left Satoru.

“Wow,” he said in utter disbelief. “So this is who you are now.” Finally turning to look at him again, your face hot with anger, you saw his eyebrows were raised in frustration and his tongue was poking the inside of his cheek.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never knew you to be someone who just spread your legs for anyone.” You gaped at him, not believing the words coming out of his mouth.

“Stop the car,” you managed to force out somewhat calmly through gritted teeth.

“I’m not stopping-“

“Stop the fucking car, Satoru,” you practically yelled at him, startled when he suddenly slammed the breaks. Once the car had stopped, you didn’t hesitate to unbuckle your seatbelt and scramble out of the car, hearing him call your name before you slammed the door shut after you.

With your arms wrapped around yourself, you started to walk down the street in the direction of your house, knowing you were still pretty far from home. But you knew you were too furious to get back in the car with Satoru.

“Come on, get back in the car,” Satoru’s voice complained down the street.

“So you can slut shame me some more? Think I’ll pass,” you shouted back. It took only a second until you heard the car engine shut off before hurried footsteps against the wet pavement made its way over to you, Satoru positioning himself right in front of you.

“Fine, sorry, please get back in the car,” he said disingenuous, scowling down at you with his hands in his pockets.

“You expect me to accept that apology?” You scowled right back at him.

“Stop acting like a brat and just-“

“Brat? Really?” You interrupted him, raising your eyebrows at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it just as quickly with a deep sigh. “Thought so.” Keeping your mean glare at him, you tried to walk past him, but he surprised you by taking a strong grip of your arm.

“So is this like a weekly occurrence now?” You forcefully pulled out of his grip.

You simply shrugged while trying to find the right answer, wanting to keep your own anger in check even though you felt you were close to boiling over. “I mean, there’s something happening every weekend but that doesn’t mean I always participate.” He only scoffed, turning away from you and looking around the street. “What?”

“So now you’re just this crazy party girl that sleeps with anyone that’s available?”

You truly couldn’t believe it was Satoru saying these words to you, your best friend in the entire world. The person you’d known most your life, who knew your every deepest, darkest secret and had never judged you in the slightest — suddenly throwing mean words right to your face like you were just some nobody.

“Like you’re one to talk! You flirt with any girl that has a pulse, and not just in school. Remember, you went to parties too and enjoyed wallowing in the attention of anyone who’d give it to you!”

“I never liked going to parties. I still don’t,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Glad to see some things hasn’t changed, unlike the fact that you’ve turned into an asshole,” you spat at him, trying to walk away again, but he yanked a hold of you once more.

“Well, I’m not the only one who has changed,” he said in a low voice, giving you a stern look through his eyebrows.

A light laugh of disbelief escaped you, the tears quickly starting to well up in your eyes. Was this really the same person you’d physically been unable to let go off five months ago? The one person you believed could never intentionally hurt you the way he was now?

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Flickering between his eyes, you knew you’d caught on. “Did you really think I was going to sit around and wait for you?”

“I certainly didn’t expect you to go and replace me the first chance you got.”

“Replace you?!” You exclaimed before the entire sentence had left his lips.

“Yes, replace me!” He fired back, his tone more angry than he wanted it to be, because sadness was all he truly felt.

“So you haven’t gotten any new friends at university?”

“That’s different-“

“Oh my god, Satoru,” you moaned in frustration, your hands rubbing your face. “I am so tired of you saying it is different for you! You’ve done that for years.”

Satoru had his hands deeply tucked in his pockets, his shoulders up to his ears with tension. He was already filled with guilt for talking to you this way, something he’d never done before. Then again, he couldn’t remember having this many negative feelings regarding you running wild in him.

“It’s baffling to me that you’re actually saying all these things to me, like it isn’t you that keep postponing our phone calls.” You said, your tone transformed from anger into the sorrow that had taken residence in you instead.

He breathed your name, almost like he seemed disappointed in a way. “Classes are riding my ass.”

“You don’t think I know that?” You fired back immediately, your tone remaining calm as you continued to hold back the tears. “But truth is, it has caused you to not make time for the phone calls.”

“You can’t expect me to be able to make time-“

What seemed to be the mix of a sob and a scoff parted your lips, cutting him off. It was like talking to a brick wall, because it felt like nothing you said reached him.

Had he always been like this? Too wrapped up with his own idea of being right that he took no regards for your opinion? If so, how had the two of you managed to go all those years without you properly realising it?

“If you haven’t been paying attention, it’s not me that’s had too many expectations, but you!”

His head fell back, retrieving his hands from his pockets to fold them over his chest. As his entire posture turned loose, you couldn’t bare to look at him when the first tear fell. He just seemed to be so sick of this conversation — sick of you — an idea that made you want to throw up on the spot.

“You’re being unreasonable,” he said in a low voice, as if he knew he was in the wrong but too stubborn to back down. He’d already been so cruel, a part of him feeling like he had already gone too far to double down now.

“I’m being unreasonable?!” You snapped, walking right up to him, now close enough to feel the heat radiate off him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding with me?”

Never in a million years could you have predicted your favourite person in the universe to speak to you this way, biting your head off for simply living your life. But it went deeper than being upset about you going to some random party. It seemed like he truly disliked the person you were right now, and nothing had ever hurt you as much.

“For the record, I did wait. So many nights I just sat in my room, staring at the damn phone, waiting for you to call.” You were sobbing now, all restraints of your tears out the window. “But I think you’re not half as busy with your studies as you claim to be, but very busy making new friends, which is why it’s nothing but cruel of you to go at me like this!”

“You always do that!” He snapped, causing your sobs to halt for a second, eyebrows quirking up in surprise. “You always assume these things about me, paint me out to be this specific person without having all the facts.”

“I know you better than I know myself, for fucks sake! You hate to work, avoid it for all that it’s worth, and now you’re trying to tell me you work so hard?” Silence. “And you’ve always loved attention. You feed on it, and every single living person on this planet can’t help but just give it to you! I’m willing to bet my last dime you’re surrounded with all sorts of people just fighting for your time!”

Without stuttering, you fired shot after shot, feeling bad even though every last word of it was true.

The reality of the fight washed over you, knowing you’d never fought like this before. A friendship spanning twelve years was doomed to have some disagreements along the way. And with both you and Satoru having such strong personalities, there had been quite a few. But never had either of you ever turned mean, like right now, no matter how serious the argument had been.

“Despite what you might think, I’m not one of your silly school girls who just follow you around to stroke your ego. I’m my own person, always have been. And I’m sorry you’re pissy about the fact that I’m doing fine without you here and I’m sorry that the image you had of me is finally shattering.”

You felt you’d gotten what you had on your mind off your chest, and all that fell out of you now were uncontrollable sobs. Not only were you absolutely devastated, but you were scared. The person that stood before you didn’t feel like someone you knew, meaning you had no idea what might come out of his mouth next.

“Think I see you clearer than ever.”

Sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, you tried to choke back your sobs, not feeling he was worthy of hearing the affect he had on you right now. You slowly began to nod your head, looking about for a few seconds before you simply began to walk away without saying another word. And this time you didn’t feel his hand grab your arm.

The second your head had hit the pillow after you’d gotten home, you erupted into loud, unruly sobs, that even managed to wake your parents. They stormed into your room, beyond scared something was terribly wrong, and your mom managed to pull your head into her lap, stroking your hair in an attempt to get you to calm down so you’d be able to tell them what had happened, but to no prevail. While she desperately tried to hum you to peace, your dad stood watching in anguish as he had no clue what to do in order to help.

Eventually, the sobs wore you out to the point where you fell asleep in her lap.

Waking up the next morning, you’d felt like it had all been just a horrible nightmare, and in just a few minutes, Satoru would stand at your door, so excited to just do absolutely nothing with you like you had planned.

But you sat in your bed and stared at the door, waiting for him to show up but he never did. When you became restless, you paced around the room, daring to glance out the window in hopes you’d spot him sitting by his windowsill. But here too, you were left disappointed. No Satoru shaped silhouette made himself known, and at some point during the day, he had shut the blinds without you noticing.

Two days later, your mom came into your room and asked why Satoru had left to go back to university already when you guys hadn’t hung out yet.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were twenty years old when you started university.

After a therapeutic gap year of working and travelling, you were finally ready to go back to school, excited to see what the life of a university student was all about.

So far it all seemed to go as smoothly as one could hope for — moving in and setting up in your small dormitory, putting in a lot of effort to make it a space where you could feel at home. Signing up for classes and getting all the books you needed was easier than expected, some kindhearted strangers more than willing to help you get it all right. And lastly, finding your way around campus wasn’t nearly the issue you thought it would be. You easily manoeuvred your way around the grounds, quickly coming across spots you could picture yourself just hanging out.

You were more than prepared by the time the first class rolled around, entering the huge auditorium, nervously walking down the stairs and sitting down in an available seat in one of the rows closer to the front.

Suddenly it began to dawn on you that you were actually in university, working your way to a future career like you’d always talked about. All your hard work in school, your academic achievements, finally paying off, letting you be in environment of equally dedicated individuals.

However, even though your peers seemed to be on the same level as you academically, you got the impression they had excelled passed you socially already. As you let your eyes roam the crowd, you noticed how people had already made friends and even formed groups, greeting each other with warm smiles as they sat down together.

You didn’t have the chance to brood about it for too long, as a roaring voice spoke up from the front of the classroom, drawing everyone’s attention to him, the chatter quickly quieting down. The assertive figure introduced himself before heading straight into the plans for the semester, asking if anyone had any questions. While a few students raised their voice, you just desperately wrote down everything being said, just in case it might be useful somewhere down the line.

“I look forward to teach you this introductory class in education. I’m sure you’ll make great teachers one day,” he smiled. “Before we get started, there’s someone I’d like to introduce. I have the privilege of being assigned a TA this semester — come on up.”

Everyone’s eyes followed the professors gesture towards the person who’d just gotten up from his chair by the exit. All the air was immediately sucked out of your lungs when your eyes landed on the one person you hadn’t expected to see.

“Good morning everyone,” he said in his characteristically suave voice, hearing the girls in the auditorium instantly begin to whisper amongst them at the sight of him. “I’m Satoru Gojo, I’ll be the professors teacher assistant this semester. Any questions you might-“

The words instantly died in his throat when his gaze landed on you, tensed up in your seat. He could almost see you shiver under his intense glare.

Nearly two years had passed since the last time he saw you, and not a day had gone by where he hadn’t cursed himself for how he treated you that night. He regretted it all, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to face you and apologise, even though you more than deserved it.

Eventually, the days just passed him by and it felt like an injustice for him to just jump into your life again so he decided not to, which resulted in the most miserable two years of his life.

You wanted to look away, but the shock of seeing him again had taken over your body, holding your attention hostage under his drilling blue eyes.

He’d let his hair grow a little longer, which suited him, even though he didn’t need it to improve his looks. It also seemed to have bulked up a little. Not much, just enough for you to notice as his navy, button up shirt hugged his arms in a way his clothes never had before.

“Mr. Gojo?” The professor’s voice broke his stare, bringing him back to real world and acknowledging all the faces staring at him.

“Yeah, sorry-“ he cleared his throat. “Any questions you might have, don’t hesitate to come to me,” he stuttered over his sentence, shooting you quick glance even though he tried to keep his attention on the crowd.

With a shy smile, he made his way back to his seat, his eyes once again finding you as he was seated. You shrunk in your seat, your entire body on fire from having his eyes observe you for the first time in so long, sure you’re heart might actually stop from the stress.

Throughout the entire lecture, you both kept stealing glances from one another, an unspoken sensation filling the air between you, like you both could feel how badly you’d missed and craved the other the period you’d been separated.

His eyes carried the same weight they always did when looking at you, uncomfortably restless in your seat, fidgeting with the paper of your notebook and trying to keep the tapping of your foot to a minimum. When your eyes weren’t automatically drawn to Satoru, you peeked at the clock hanging above the whiteboard, begging for time to pass so you could storm out of the classroom and finally be able to breath properly again.

You were sure the seconds lasted longer now than normal, but the lecture finally ended and you instantly began to gather your things, shoving them in your bag as quickly as possible. Daring to shoot Satoru another look, you were glad to see he’d been surrounded by students (mostly girls), hindering him from making his way to you — or so you thought.

“I have a meeting to get to,” Satoru lied, looking at you packing up your stuff before rushing up the stairs towards the auditorium exit. “But here’s my email. Just… send whatever questions you might have and I’ll answer as soon as I have the time.” It didn’t seem like anyone picked up on the fact that he was lying through his teeth, but they all wore a disappointed expression when he began to push his way through the crowd, sprinting up the stairs to catch up with you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, even though you wanted to just keep moving, when you heard that silky smooth voice speak your name. You reluctantly turned around to face him, still only managing to let out shallow breaths.

“I- Uhm.” Now that he finally had your full attention, his mind ran blank and his mouth dry, in awe at your familiar eyes staring up at him, lips pressed together in a tight line. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you tried to reply, but barely a sound could be heard. His eyes shot to your feet, as you kept shifting your weight from one foot to the other, clearly not at ease seeing him again.

“You look- I mean I didn’t know you wanted to become a teacher,” he stumbled over his words, his hand coming up to rub the nape of his neck.

“Me neither,” it slipped out of you, instantly pinching your eyes shut when you reflected on what had left your lips. “What I mean is I only decided recently.”

He groaned softly, feeling like nothing he wanted to say would be enough. “You finding university alright?”

It hurt. Holy hell, how it hurt, not to have the conversation flow as natural. Every atom in your body tried to convince you to just lean into what you were used to, resurrect the friendship just like that.

You nodded frantically at his question. “Yeah, much to see.”

Clearing his throat, he gathered up the courage to ask what had roamed his mind since he spotted you at the start of the lecture. “If you’re ever available, I’d love for us to grab a coffee or something,” he said it so quickly you were barely able to decode what he even suggested, but once it registered, you drew another sharp breath.

“Sure.”

“Really?” Narrowing his eyebrows at you, he hadn’t expected you to accept so willingly. He hadn’t really expected you to accept at all, if he was honest.

You didn’t know if you regretted accepting his invitation so quickly, but if there was a chance he’d apologise, you wanted to hear it simply because you deserved it. Or maybe that was the excuse you told yourself because you so desperately wanted to hang out with him.

“You haven’t changed your number, right?” You shook your head. “I’ll just text you.” The faintest smile grew on your lips as you simply nodded, a light blush spreading across Satoru’s face at the delightful sight.

“See you around, ‘Toru,” you said out if habit, quickly turning around and walking away so he wouldn’t be able to see that you too were blushing, regretting the use of his old nickname.

It didn’t even take two hours before your phone dinged with a text from him, where he suggested a time and place.

toru <3: how about next friday after the lecture? there’s this great coffeehouse five minutes from campus

you: sounds good :)

It seemed Friday couldn’t come quick enough, your anxiousness building up every lecture you had together. Despite feeling like the worst of the shock had passed as you simply flashed each other a friendly smile and a small wave when you saw each other, your mind would never get peace until everything was out in the open.

And now you finally sat opposite him, a strong grip on your mug to put your nerves somewhere. Satoru was scared you might shatter it, your knuckles turning white by how hard you were clutching at it.

“I��m really glad you decided to join,” he started awkwardly.

In all the years you’d known him, you’d never had the satisfaction of witnessing him awkward. It seemed like his default setting was mr. smooth talker, always able to find the right words in order to get what he wanted no matter how unlikely it seemed. But all that was out the window, staring at you with a sense of embarrassment, looking like a scared, young boy forced to face his stupid crush, waiting to get rejected after a sorry attempt at asking for a date.

“Me too.”

“You look really pretty- I mean, you look great. You’ve turned out pretty. Not that you were ugly before, you’ve never been ugly. In fact-“

His clumsy attempt at talking to you was cute, which was all it took to start chipping away at your cold exterior, the corner of your lips betraying you as it curled up in a small smirk.

“Thank you,” you said softly, his shoulders instantly relaxing.

Something about you was definitely different, but the tone in your voice made him realise it was actually you that was sitting in front of him; his best friend. There was no reason he shouldn’t be anything but comfortable around you. Especially now when he’d been offered the opportunity to maybe make amends, he couldn’t throw it away.

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “I don’t want to give you any dumb excuses, because there aren’t any. I’m sorry and you didn’t deserve any of what I said to you that night.”

His voice had turned steady now, taking back the assertiveness you were so used to hearing. “I’m sorry too.”

He instantly snorted, much to your surprise. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” He seemed to hold back a chuckle.

“Well, duh, but thought it was polite thing to say.” You were surprised by your own words, mirroring his humoured and shocked expression. Maybe he didn’t deserved to have you resort to playful banter already, but it just fell out of you so naturally. “You look great too, by the way.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he smirked smugly, while you rolled your eyes at him.

“Uneasy is the head that wears the crown,” you corrected him, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“Okay, nerd.”

Your lips pursed together, unable to fight it anymore, a sweet smile hiding under the annoyed facade — and he noticed, his heart doing a full flip at finally being able to see it in person again. He’d only been able to dream of it in the time apart, and a hope began to spring in him that finally he might get you back in his life.

And this was just the first coffee of many. It started as a weekly thing, in the beginning consisting of airing it all out in order to establish the trust again. But it didn’t take long until you both fell into an old and familiar pattern.

It started with tagging along to lectures. Next thing, Satoru suggested you ordered dinner while studying, however not much studying was done. The evening was spent sitting on the floor of your dorm, stuffing your faces with take out and reminiscing of your days back in high school, talking about all the gossip and drama that went down.

There was a mutual understanding that you both had to make up for the lost time, both sad you’d wasted so long not being in contact when it could all have been resolved if you’d both been mature enough to just reach out.

But despite both of you resorting to old habits, quickly acting as close as you were back then, things had escalated.

Before, he’d simply thrown his arm lazily across your shoulders without a single thought. Now his muscular arm held a more possessive grip on you like he was preventing another outcome of you slipping away. And unlike before, you matched his energy, letting your arm slide along his back and grab tightly ahold of his waist to secure him close to you.

When he subconsciously began to fidget with your fingers, you eventually let your fingers glide between his to interlock your hands, where both of you just let them rest, his thumb softly stroking you.

And when he was gentleman enough to open the door for you every chance he got, he gawked at you with pure affection in his eyes and he sneakily let his hand rest on the small of your back as you passed him.

Neither of you ever mentioned it. You gladly just let it happen, both leaning into it, getting more and more touchy as time went on. And it didn’t go unnoticed by your fellow students, ugly glares in your direction as they wondered how you’d gotten so close to the incredibly hot TA in the matter of weeks, also considering how many people he had throwing themselves at his feet.

You couldn’t care less however. You were simply living in the joyful bliss of having your best friend back.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

His jaw dropped to the floor when you stepped out of the bathroom, not even noticing his lingering gaze on you, simply walking over to your purse to get your lipgloss.

The sinfully short dress hugged your curves just right, leaving little to the imagination. His eyes darted to the knee high, leather boots that elongated your enticing legs before letting his eyes indulge up your body, tracing your exposed collarbones-

“Satoru?” Drawing his attention to your face, which genuinely left him stunned having enhanced your already beautiful features, hair tucked up messily by a claw clip. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

More like an angel, he thought, trying to snap out of the haze you had him under as he slowly began to approach you.

What was happening?

There was a hunger in his eyes you’d never seen before, at least not looking at you. It was like he moved in slow motion, your heart quickly picking up the pace the closer he got. “Satoru?” You asked again, but a tremble in your voice exposed your nerves. “What are you doing?”

A confident, on brand smirk made its way onto his face, revealing his infamous dimples as he let his hand slip to your cheek, sliding it to the side of your throat and letting his thumb draw graciously soft lines along your jaw.

“I should have kissed you that night.”

His quiet confession filled the room, having your sole focus be his eyes, those beautiful, heavenly eyes that always saw right through you. The night in question had often played in your mind, fantasising about what could have happened if either of you had decided to cross the line.

“Would you have kissed me back?” The dominance in his voice had a weird influence on you, causing your eyes to flicker away from his eyes to travel across the attractive line of his curved lips.

“Without hesitation.” His grin widened, his thumb now moving to stroke your bottom lip. Much like that god forsaken night, he leaned forward, but this time he let his nose brush against yours, his breath brushing against your lips.

“We’re skipping the party,” he whispered.

“Didn’t wanna go anyways,” you huffed before finally being the one to engage the kiss, crashing into his lips, just as soft as you’d always imagined them to be.

Hungrily tying you arms around his neck in order to help deepen the passionate kiss, you felt his tongue slide along your bottom lip as if he was asking for you to open your mouth, to which you happily obliged.

His firm hands slid down your waist before stopping at your thighs, squeezing slightly into your plush flesh. Without breaking the kiss, you jumped into his arms with ease, wrapping your legs around his slim waist as he placed his hands on your ass, not an ounce of fear in you that he’d ever drop you.

Your hands found their way to his soft hair, instantly drawing out a soft moan from him, causing you to smile into the kiss.

“That’s what you like, huh?” You teased, pulling away from him order to get a look at his face.

“Shut up,” he chuckled before reconnecting your lips when you felt he began to walk in the direction of your bedroom.

Since rekindling your friendship, everything had moved at the speed of light. As it all had happened, you’d noticed the increased intimacy, both physically and mentally, but you hadn’t wanted to assume it was anything more than just a result of missing each other.

You’d experienced a new sensation of yearning for Satoru, one that had previously only passed you by in random split seconds which you’d always suppressed to the back of your mind. Never had you wanted to jeopardise your friendship for anything, especially for what you thought was just innocent lust that naturally washed over anyone that was in the close vicinity of Satoru.

But clearly you were wrong. Maybe there had always been a stronger desire to explore him in a different way that had just been buried because it seemed illegal. Not to forget the fact that it was being reciprocated, his strong hands exploring your body with an urgency you had never experienced with anyone before.

The meaningful and deep history only appeared to fuel the hunger you felt for one another, behaving as if neither of you had experienced the phenomenon of another person’s touch in a lifetime — and it was only specifically each other who could satisfy the need.

Still with a tight grip, he hesitatingly let you down, his hands sliding up your body to hoist your dress so it gathered around your lower abdomen. “This dress need to come off, baby,” he breathed into your mouth as he continued to pull it up your body.

You simply lifted your arms to let him twist the dress over your head, his eyes instantly locking to your perky tits as if they were calling his name. Before he had the chance to give into the temptation of fondling them, playing with your nipples, you tugged at the bottom of his sweater. No way you were going to stand in all your glory while his clothes served as a hindrance to your desire.

Again his alluring smirk greeted you, more than willingly pulling it over his head to reveal his chiselled torso, confirming your theory that he had gotten bulkier, because you would definitely have remembered if he looked like that before.

“Is this crazy?” You asked shakily after having removed your shoes and reaching for his belt buckle. Noticing the slight jitters hiding between your excitement, he snatched ahold of your chin to force you to look at his face.

“Not crazier than the fact that I should have done this ages ago.”

Pulling your face towards him, he had you standing on your tip toes in order to dedicate as much of yourself to the kiss as humanly possible.

Once the pants were off him, your hand found his chest, fighting the urge to dig your nails into his toned pecks, guiding him backwards to sit down on your bed. With glee you straddled him, embarrassment flushed your cheeks as a needy whimper just fell from your lips when his huge bulge ended up pressing against your clothed core, an amused eyebrow quirking up on Satoru’s face.

“Damn, calm down,” he teased, your nose scrunching up to conceal the playful smile that was taking over.

“Idiot.” Grabbing his face, you let your open mouth graze against his when one of his hands palmed your clothed pussy, pulling another moan from your lips.

Without warning, he pulled your black laced panties aside, his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit. You bit your lip to choke back yet another moan. Knowing Satoru, you knew he’d forever hold it against you — how he managed to withdraw those lewd sounds from you so easily.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart,” he panted, enjoying the view of your scrunched up face of pleasure. “Can’t wait to feel you around me.”

“‘Toru, I-“ you forced out when you felt him slip two lengthy digests inside you as he traced soft, little pecks along your collarbone that he had admired earlier. Hearing you barely able to utter his nickname mixed with the low squelching of your pussy, basically drenched already, was something he had only been able to imagine before. And god, was the real thing ten times better than his fantasy.

“Getting shy around me, pretty? That’s unlike you.” Again you wanted to roll your eyes at him, because he was even more cheeky when having you at his mercy than normal. But the consistent pressure on your sensitive nub along with the movement of his fingers were too much to even give that a try.

Fingertips clawing at his shoulders, slowly starting to rock your hips as you were being drawn closer and closer to the edge.

His smooth motion had you seeing stars behind your eyelids, the tingle of orgasm bubbling up inside you when he had you gasp in disappointment when you were deprived of his skilled touch.

Motherfucker.

“What-“ your eyes fluttered open in confusion before you were thrown off his lap, landing softly on your back, sinking into the mattress. Next thing, his boxers hit the floor, exposing his already rock hard dick. Eyeing the size, his cocky personality suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

Hovering over you, he swiftly tilted your head to the side to place a series of open mouthed kisses as he used his leg to spread your legs apart, setting himself up between them, feeling his tip slightly touch your entrance as it twitched.

“I need you,” it vibrated against your skin, one arm wrapping around his back in a desperate need to feel every inch of him, while the other traveled south to lace around his dick. It was your turn to draw sounds from him, a small, satisfied giggle ringing in his ear as a reaction to hearing his pathetic whimper.

“Sorry,” your giggle trailed off when he lifted his head to look down at you, the ghost of a smile on his face telling you he enjoyed the small banter during it all.

You gave him a few slow pumps, using your thumb to rub some of his precum across his tip, aligning him with the opening of your cunt as he punished you with a rough kiss on the lips.

That’s when you finally let go, your hand finding his back again to prepare yourself to be filled with his dick. He didn’t wait to slide into you with ease, gasping softly as you involuntarily clenched around his size, trying to get used to it.

“You okay?” He mumbled as he rested his forehead against yours. You only nodded before pulling him in for another kiss, reassuring him that you were alright and more than ready.

The line was officially crossed — no going back now. You could never go back to being just best friends, but maybe that was for the best, that maybe you’d always meant to be more. Every fibre of his being had for a long time ached to have you like this, spread out and desperate for him and only him.

At first he moved in a slow and sensual pace, wanting to be entirely sure you could take it. Eyeing your expression in awe, finally being able to be the one to make you grimace with pleasure.

“Wanted this for so long,” he murmured, being driven to lose all control hearing all your sweet whimpers, occasionally mumbling his name, which had him buck his hips faster and deeper, desperate to push you to climax.

Taking every inch of him over and over, stretching around him, he glanced down to get a look of the beautiful sight, his cock moving in and out, in and out, like you were made for him.

Your nails burrowed into his back before dragging down, too dazed in the bliss of Satoru’s cock stuffed in you to care about the red lines you knew you’d created, marking him as yours. Your toes curled as he kept feeding you horny affirmations and heartfelt compliments.

“Fuck fuck fuck, look at that.”

“God you’re so beautiful.”

“Taking me so good baby.”

“Fuck, should have done this ages ago. Look so pretty around me.”

“Hngh, ‘Toru,” you mewled. “I’m gonna c-cum,” you begged, squeezing your eyes shut and arching closer to him to chase your high.

“As you wish.” Something snapped in him, slamming into you at an unbearable speed, balls smacking your ass as he kept shoving into you. You tried to make out words to tell him you were about to reach your limit, but you were too fucked out to form anything coherent, just a string of cute sounds of pleasure leaving your pretty mouth. “Cum f’me.”

His simple command had you nearly scream as the sweet release washed over you, head pushing back into your pillow as he gave you the most intense orgasm you could remember. He fucked you through your high, feeling your body pressed against his until he too reached his climax, filling you with cum, a loud groan left him before his thrusts became lazy and sloppy.

He pulled out, collapsing on the bed beside you. You both turned to look at each other, instantly making eye contact. Whatever flashed between you caused you both to break into a calm laughter. Once it died down, your flipped to lay on your side and rested your chin on his shoulders.

“Should have known you’re quite a talker during sex, it adds up.”

“Is this complaining I hear?” He taunted, pinching his eyebrows together to challenge your statement. “Because the way you just moaned my name like a slut-“

“Okay, fine, I’ll sush,” you laughed before hiding your face in the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Carefully he nudged his shoulder to have you look at him again, needing to take in your flushed face after it all, eyes roaming every part of it. “So what happens now?” You breathed softly as your finger began to trace weak circles on his still damp chest.

Without thinking, he tilted your head up and placed an affectionate kiss on your forehead. “I know I don’t wanna waste anymore time not being with you.”

“We really screwed up there, huh?” As his secure arms wrapped around you to have you as close to him as possible, his chest vibrated with a low chuckle.

“Not my fault you were out and about, throwing your phone number at your customers.”

“Oh alright, if you wanna blame previous conquests, then there’s-“ he instantly placed his large hand over your mouth to muffle the list of girl names you could remember him being with.

“Still such a brat-“ you interrupted his insult by defending yourself the only way you could, sticking out your tongue to lick all over his palm. Before you even had the chance to understand what was going on, it backfired when he instantly rubbed his hand all over your face, smearing your spit.

“Satoru,” you squealed before you both fell into a fit of laughter again.

Well into the night, you just talked and laughed. Sharing every single moment from your friendship that might have been pent of feelings for each other, realising this was how it always should have been. Neither of you had to hold back on the affection or affirmation anymore in fear of jeopardising what you already had. If anything, the relation you already shared only seemed to further ignite what would come to be.

For the first time, you fell asleep in his arms, being his.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were twenty-seven years old when life was just perfect.

“But pretty please!” Nobara complained, hands pressed together in prayer, close to falling to her knees to beg you to do her this small favour. It earned her an offended frown from both her classmates standing on each side of her. “It’s a testosterone nightmare.”

Before you were able to give her any form of response, two lean arms came lurking around your waist to spin you around, drawing bubbly giggles from your lips.

“My god, Satoru, we’re at work!” You managed to force out between your joy, eventually feeling your feet planted safely on the ground again. He lazily rested his arm across your shoulders, towering over the group with a content smile on his face.

“Sorry, just got excited.” He placed a small peck on the crown of your head, sprinkling a tint of pretty pink on your cheeks.

Over and over you’d told him to keep his devotion to you on the down-low in public, especially in front of the students but he never managed to follow the simple request, having the two of you act like love sick teenagers. And as much as you pretended not to, you melted as much at his antics now as you did way back when, rarely putting up much of a fight to actually tone down his behaviour.

Looking at the three first years in front of you, both Nobara and Megumi had a hint of disgust at the sight of how mushy Satoru got with you, always having a desire to be in contact with you one way or another. Yuji, on the other hand, always admired the sheer transparency of the relationship.

“So what’d I miss?”

“Nobara want me to give her private lessons because she’s sick of you boys.”

“Young miss Kugisaki, dare I say I’m disappointed?” Satoru said, acting overly dramatic, sporting pinched eyebrows to have them believe he was actually hurt.

“Gojo-sensei, I have reason to believe I’ll learn even more having a female teacher,” she pouted.

“Ouch,” he breathed in response.

“You’ll tough it out,” you chuckled, a small thank you whispered from the tall man pressed against your side before you opened your mouth again. “I mean, think about how I have it. At least you’re only linked to him during school hours while I live with the guy. I can never catch a break-“

A grunt escaped you as the arm draped around you tensed up, pulling you into a strong headlock. Endless laughter leaving you as you so desperately tried to pull out of his grip but to to prevail, cheek smushed against his ribs.

“Can you guys believe it?” Satoru gasped before carefully pulling up his blindfolds slightly to reveal one of his eyes to look directly down at you. “My own wife?”

“‘Toru!” He just smiled down at you at the happy sounds from your beautiful mouth, also amused by your weak attempt to break free from his hold on you, messing up your hair as you desperately tried to pull your head back.

“You’re both insufferable,” Megumi rolled his eyes, just wanting to go on with his day.

“All I’ve done for you over the years, and still you find it in you to talk to me like that,” shaking his head in faux disappointment. You were finally able to pop your head out from his grip, not at all due to the fact that he intentionally loosened his hold on you a little. A low chuckle rumbling at the sight of your pouty lip hidden behind your bristly hair.

Pushing it out of your eyes, you clicked your tongue as you turned your attention to his students again. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m their favourite teacher,” he said proudly, shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning forward a little to me on the same level as you.

“Isn’t much competition when you’re their only teacher.”

“You’re feisty today. Get up in the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“No, I think it might have something to do with you hogging the covers all night.”

The bickering continued, bickering only possible to come from two people who’d been best friends for decades, eventually causing the three friends to walk away with either of you noticing.

“Wipe of that grin, sir, or you’re sleeping on the couch,” you threatened, nothing but pure amusement in your tone. His fingers found your face, squeezing your soft cheeks together, causing your sweet lips to stick forward looking more than inviting. A low giggle once again harboured deep in your throat, trying your best not to let them spill.

His face came closer — oh how he still managed to have the butterflies go crazy inside after all these years never seized to amaze you, feeling the alluring look through his blindfolds.

“We both know you’d come crawling into my arms after an a hour,” he teased, close enough to your puckered lips for you to feel his warm breath.

“Nuh uh-“ was all you were able to muffle out between his fingers.

“Damn, I love you,” he spoke softly before planting a kiss on your mouth, unable to hold back the smirk that grew when his grip changed to a tender cup of your cheek.

Sometimes it baffled you how you both managed to be so incredibly, deeply and stupidly in love with each other. You’d think after all those years with so much devotion and admiration shared, you would have grown tired of each other by now.

But you guessed it helped to be best friends with the person you’d chosen to be with for the rest of your life.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n hehe this is long... this is basically a love letter to gojo after 261, where i had my heart absolutely shattered like most of us yk. ive been super motivated to write it tho so just last week i had 30 hours screentime on my notes app lol... now, ive said it before and ill say it again, i am NOT a smut writer (clearly). personally, thats the part here i like the least bc i just feel like i cant get it to flow naturally... besides that hope you guys like this

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated

plagiarism not authorized

[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[alexiroflife]

"first day"

fluff, happy fushiguro family, slice of life, megs' first day of school send-off

Synopsis: you've been dating toji for a while now and megumi subconsciously calls you mom for the first time on his way out the door

to sum it up: you adore the little family you've come to be a part of

WC: 1,701

Warning(s): none

"Megs!" you call out, standing by the front door awaiting the dark-haired boy's arrival. He soon shuffles around the corner from his room, throwing a bag over his shoulder with a tired expression on his face.

His father turns to watch him walk in, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "The hell were you doing in there that took you so long?"

"Nothing," Megumi grumbles, moving to brush past the two of you to rush to the door. "I just wanted to look presentable, that's all."

"So you took thirty minutes to get ready?" Toji quirks a brow.

"Believe it or not, dad, some would say that's not enough time to get ready in the morning."

"Not at all, actually," you agree.

Toji tugs the corner of his mouth in judgment. " Well, you should know," he says to you. "You spend at least ten years in the bathroom when we have somewhere to go."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "That's such an overreaction. I never take any longer than an hour." Megumi and his father exchange knowing looks and you place your hand on your hip. "What?"

"Don't worry baby," Toji assures you. "It's okay to be in denial."

"We've timed it before. The last time we all went out to dinner as a family, you took two and a half hours to get dressed," Megumi adds.

"That's only because I had to shower and pick out an outfit then do my hair and makeup," you defend.

"Isn't that a little overkill? It takes me half that time to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get some homework done."

"Whatever. Your sister would understand," you sigh.

"Unfortunately, she may be worse than you."

"Women," Toji tsks. You slap his bicep and he pretends to flinch, smirking down at you playfully. "Ouch."

"Alright, well, I'm ready now. I don't wanna be late," the sixteen year old says, turning back to reach for the door handle.

"Ah ah ah, wait!" you stop him. "You're not going anywhere without me getting a good look at you. Turn around, I wanna see how the uniform fits."

Megumi lowers his head and complies, turning back around stiffly for you to admire him. You press your hand to your lips to conceal your smile, eyes gleaming with pride as you look over the sharp navy jacket and pants he adorns.

"Awwww," you coo. "It fits perfectly! How does it feel?"

"Pretty good," Megumi nods, moving his arm around slightly to show his mobility in the fabric. "It's comfortable too. It shouldn't be a problem during missions."

"I still can't believe how quickly time has gone by," you muse. "You're already going into your first year at Jujutsu High! Are you excited?"

"You better be," Toji grunts. "Your uncle Gojo hasn't gotten off my ass about your enrollment for years. At least now, he'll finally shut up."

"I still don't understand why I have to have him as a teacher. He's such a moron, I doubt he'll teach us anything useful," Megumi mumbles.

"Moron or not, he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and he's helped out so much. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a good experience," you say positively.

"We talkin' about the same Gojo here? The one who trashed my house playing tag with Megumi and the dogs in the living room?" Toji points out and his son grits his teeth at the memory.

"Oh come on, Satoru was like twenty one back then. I can only imagine the crazy shit you've with the kids when you were raising them," you tease.

"You don't even want to know," Megumi exhales.

"Please, you came out just fine, didn’t ya?” Toji says, reaching out his hand to ruffle at Megumi's spiky hair. The teen recoils, craning his head away and shielding himself with his arm.

"Quit it. I'm not five anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all grown up now, I know. Gonna be a first-grade sorcerer before I can even blink an eye."

"Who said that I would be first grade? I'm only a first year."

"Yeah, and look at who your pops is," Toji grins. "Plus, you got an advantage that I never had. You'll do just fine."

Megumi hums indifferently, doubting himself momentarily but accepting the words nonetheless. "Alright, are we ready?"

"No, not yet!" you pull out your phone quickly and open the camera. "I need to get pictures."

The blue-eyed boy slumps. "(Y/n), I gotta go."

"I know, I know, just a few," you promise, holding your camera up to capture his awkward figure in the frame. "Okay, smile."

Megumi doesn't, and of course you don't actually expect him to. Instead, he calmly stares at the camera with his arms at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Toji moves to stand behind you, leaning down to take a peak at the million pictures you're snapping.

"Toji, go stand with him so I can get one with the both of you."

The two groan simultaneously. "Doll, can we just focus on gettin' the kid to school?"

"It's fine. His stuff is already moved into his dorm. We have time."

"But-"

"Shut up and go stand with your son, now," you glare firmly up at the green-eyed man and he huffs.

"Yes, ma'am."

Toji raises a hand to his hip and tilts his head boredly as he stands beside Megumi, the two of them sharing the exact same blank stare as they look into the camera. You squeal happily. "You two are so cuteee!"

"We done, now?"

"No, I wanna get one more with Megs, and then I'm good." The boys give you a look, but you wave them off. "I mean it! Gosh, here Toji. Take our picture."

Toji obliges, grabbing your phone from your hand as you rush over to the tall boy. His expression melts into serenity as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean your head against his arm, smiling widely at the camera as a hint of a smile touches Megumi's lips.

Toji's heart warms at the sight, watching the way his son grows comfortable in your presence. The picture of the two of you looks so natural t to him like you are meant to be a part of his family, which he knows you are.

He snaps the photo and nods. "Got it."

You exhale, turning to face Megumi. You brush your hands over his shoulders to straighten his jacket, ridding it of any lint and wrinkles. "Okay, Megumi, please remember to be safe."

"I know. I will," he nods.

"And don't be too reckless when it comes to training."

"I won't."

"And try to make friends. I know how easy it is for you to push others away."

"I'll try."

You press your lips together with a final sigh, looking over Megumi's face warmly. You wrap your arms safely around him into a hug, your emotions getting the best of you. You have spent the past year caring for Megumi like your own, and watching him head off to achieve his goals makes your heart swell with joy and fear all the same.

"Text me or your father or Tsumiki if you need anything. Anything at all," you tell him. He returns your hug gently.

"Okay," he chuckles lightly and you pull away. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"...I know you will..." you pout. "Okay, I'll let you go. Good luck. I hope you have an amazing first day. I'll see you at the end of the week, yeah?"

"Mhm. I'll call you to let you know how the day went later."

"Please do."

Toji hands you back your phone and walks toward the door with Megumi. "Let's get a move on," he says. He leans over quickly to peck your lips farewell. "I'll be back in a few."

"Don't speed, Toji."

"Speeding gets you places quicker," he winks and you suck your teeth disapprovingly. Megumi opens the door, his dad gripping the frame.

"Bye, boys. Stay out of trouble," you wave, eyes glassy as you watch Megumi walk out.

"See ya, doll."

"Bye, mum."

The three of you freeze the second the words hit the air, everyone stilling in their tracks.

You feel your heart burst as overwhelming happiness consumes you. Megumi keeps his face forward, hiding his reddening cheeks as he processes what he has just said. Toji stares at the back of his son's head, eyes wide, before he turns to look at you to find your shocked, giddy face.

You don't have any time to reply when Megumi clears his throat suddenly, sweat dotting his forehead, and he walks rigidly out of the house and swiftly down the hall without looking back.

Toji stays behind, keeping an eye on you when you look up at him, stunned. "Did he just...?" you murmur.

"Yep."

Your eyes immediately well with tears and your lips wobble, your hands flying over your mouth. "He sees me as his mom?" you whisper.

Toji chuckles, ducking down to you with his hand still gripping the door. "Of course he does. He's always adored you. Him and Tsumiki."

"I'm gonna cry."

The assassin chuckles softly, pressing his thumb to the corner of your eye gently. "You're already cryin.'"

"Shut up," you sniff. "God, I love those kids so much. I just wanna give him all the hugs in the world."

"And you'll be able to. There isn't a better woman on this planet to be there for the kids," he kisses your cheek. "That's why I plan t'marry you someday."

"Fuck you, Toj. You're gonna make me cry even more."

"Sorry, baby. Can't help talkin' about it," he leans back to the doorway. "Let me get the kid squared away and make sure he's not dyin' of embarrassment, then I'll be back to talk to ya about makin' this official."

"You're being for real?"

"Of course I am."

You lower your hands and beam. "Tell Megumi I love him and get back here soon."

"I will," he hums. "But I thought you said no speeding?"

"Just- make sure the two of you at least get to the school in one peace."

He smirks. "Will do, doll."

[ceilidho]

prompt: construction worker ghost and his elementary school teacher neighbour who made the poor decision to start feeding him (nsfw, 2k) [based on this old ask] [on ao3 here]

-

They say not to feed wild animals. 

It makes them grow soft, lazy. Alters their behaviour. Takes an animal previously capable of finding its own food dependent on humans for sustenance. Makes them lose their natural fear of humans and nearly always results in an increase in human-wildlife conflicts as they start to seek out people. It’s a known fact. You can’t go to a park without seeing it plastered on posters in the bathroom and on the sides of the vending machines under the gazebos where you purchase your post-hike iced tea and veggie roll to eat on a nearby bench. 

You know this. So you really don’t know what possessed you to leave a cooler full of sandwiches on your neighbour’s doormat before turning in for the night. 

He wakes up preternaturally early and leaves every morning around four-thirty or five o’clock on the dot. Sometimes in the fog of sleep, you wake to hear the door to the apartment beside yours crack open and slam shut, and then the sound of lumbering footsteps down the hall towards the staircase before that door opens and slams shut too. 

He never comes home before four o’clock at the earliest. That’s around when you come home from work as well, meaning that you sometimes catch him at the door, him covered in grime and reeking of old sweat while you come flouncing down the hall in whatever colourful dress you’d donned that morning, inevitably paint-splattered by the end of the day. Always something appropriate to wear at an elementary school but colourful enough to keep the kids’ eyes and attention on you. 

You’ve caught his name in half-whispered conversations with the property manager, but aside from that, all you know about Simon Riley is that he works in construction. He certainly looks the part: big, calloused hands with blunt, dirt-caked nails and cut up fingers, knuckles always swollen and thick. Body all strength and brawn. Hard hat tucked under his armpit and decorated with countless stickers from old job sites, the same way his forearm is covered in tattoos. 

You’ve even passed by his current job site once or twice—some new condo complex going up by the canal that’s forced you and hundreds of other commuters to leave an extra thirty minutes early to account for the road closures. You pointedly don’t bring that up in conversation though. That would just be rude. 

At least it would be something to talk about though.

It’s not like the two of you talk. You’re not close by any means. Though you moved in a few months ago, you haven’t had much luck mustering up the confidence to squeak out more than a hi to him in passing. When he grunts back something approximating a hello, it’s all you can do not to break your key in the lock when you hurry into your apartment and slam the door shut behind you, heart beating frantically in your chest. 

It’s humiliating. You’re a grown woman and you’ve talked to plenty of men before. You’ve dated plenty of men before. Just because this one speaks in monosyllables and stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and your palms grow sweaty doesn’t change anything. Just because this one is built like a redwood with wrists thick enough that you’d need both hands to wrap around doesn’t make him any different than any other person.

And yet, when Simon asks you for your name on a rainy June afternoon after you’ve come in after him for a change only to find him sifting through letters at the mailbox, you garble out something that sounds nothing like your name before scurrying up the stairs to your flat.

It’s humiliating. It’s humid outside and your dress is sticking to all the wrong places (namely, your nipples and the inside of your thighs when the skirt swishes between your legs with each stride) and now you’ve made an ass of yourself in front of the only hot guy in your building. There are serial arsonists with more charm than you. 

So maybe the sandwiches are an apology letter or an olive branch. Or maybe it just makes your heart race to think of Simon opening up the cooler and finding four wax paper-wrapped sandwiches tucked neatly over ice packs. 

All you know is that when you step out of your apartment the next morning, the cooler is empty on your doormat, the lid propped open. He must have taken them with him. 

You smile. A job well done. Apology served fresh, with cucumber slices in the middle. 

The problem starts when you don’t leave him another cooler full of sandwiches on his doormat the next day. 

You didn’t consider that he might think you’d make it a habit. Perhaps that’s partially on you for not leaving a note on the cooler the first time to explain that it was just a one-off; just a way to apologize for being less than chipper around him. But instead of shrugging it off, you come home after a long day to find him standing right outside your apartment, arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps straining against his sweat-stained shirt. 

“Open the door,” Simon commands, nostrils flaring as he glares down at you. He jerks his head towards your door when you just frown, not following. “Been starving here waiting for you to show up.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re at a loss for words, never mind that your whole job involves talking. He leaves you speechless though. 

Simon doesn’t move when you step close enough to unlock the door. You try to keep your body angled away so as not to brush up against him, but it’s inevitable. He doesn’t move when the door opens either, forcing you to squeeze by him. 

He goes straight to the kitchen and drags a chair out, letting it scrape across the floor like men always do before taking a seat. You follow after him nervously, apprehensive at having a man in your space. Not just a man, but Simon Riley. It feels sacrilege—not like he has no right being in your space, but you can’t imagine him here, sitting at your tiny dining room table like he comes over for dinner every Sunday. 

When he catches you standing under the archway to the kitchen just staring at him, he barks, “Well?”

That has you scurrying over to the fridge to pull out the cold cuts and pickled red onions. There’s a loaf of bread already on the counter, the bag twisted and tucked underneath because you had to leave in a rush this morning. You don’t know half of what you pile on the sandwiches, but whatever you serve him must satisfy him because Simon digs in with gusto, finishing the plate off in only a few bites while you wash the cutlery in the sink. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole while.

He leaves not too long after that, only a light warning for you to not miss tomorrow’s lunch before heading back over to his own apartment. You don’t even get a word in edgewise. 

It becomes something of a routine after that and not one you have any control over. Every night before bed, you leave him a cooler full of sandwiches and other things like cut up fruit or slices of cheese on his doormat, and every afternoon you rock up to him waiting on your doorstep, demanding to be let in. 

He takes to giving you a wet kiss before he leaves, all tongue and his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. When you try to cover his mouth with your hand, he nips at your fingers until you move them and let him slip you some tongue. 

The day you make him a casserole for supper, he bends you over the back of your couch and eats you out. Simon eats like a man starving, glutting himself on the wetness between your legs, licking even over the furl of your asshole and chuckling under his breath when you squeal and flail, your toes just brushing against the floor. 

In the aftermath, you sit panting in his lap while he eats. He gets up only briefly to get the bowl of strawberries and cream you left chilling in the fridge before lifting you up and putting you right back in his lap. You stare bleary-eyed when he holds a finger covered in cream up to your lips.

“Clean me up, pet,” he says, then watches you with half-lidded eyes while you lick his finger clean. 

He makes you suck his fingers too, to keep things even. He does it when you’re angled half off the bed, thick digits stuffed down your throat until your eyes leak big, fat tears that he licks away, hungry for those too. The man is always hungry, always keen to fill his belly. 

The arrangement continues on long enough to become normal, even routine. Simon shows up at your door every day after work waiting to be fed, and then makes you come a couple times before he leaves, a little thank you to repay you for the food. He never really says all that much when he comes around, not a conversationalist of a man. His preference is to eat, fuck, and leave, which you’re happy to accommodate, still too tongue-tied yourself to broach a real conversation. 

That’s all before he starts helping himself to your bed for a quick nap after a big supper. Then for naps that turn into a full night’s sleep, snoring like a chainsaw under the covers with you tucked under his arm, naked breasts pressed against his side, keeping you awake most of the night until you pass out somewhere around one A.M. 

Just as you suspected, Simon gets up at around four or five to be at the jobsite on time, but at your place, he gets up a bit earlier to help himself to breakfast. He doesn't even bother waking you up, just turns you over onto your tummy and spreads your legs before sinking his dick into where you're still stretched out from the night before. If you wake up or squirm, he just leans down and murmurs, “S'alright, pet…just need a pick me up before work. Go back to sleep, you’re okay,” and ruts between your thighs until he comes inside you and leaves you all wet in bed with one last messy kiss to your temple. 

The door slams shut on his way out. 

Because you feed him, he keeps coming back. The workday passes in a blur: attendance, a spelling test, recess, maths in the afternoon, and then you’re driving home in the same daze that has you slamming on the brakes before rear ending an old woman who stopped two cars behind the truck at the redlight ahead. 

You’re home earlier than him for a change, so you unlock the door quickly while there’s still a chance to avoid him. No such luck. When Simon turns up, he pounds on the door until you let him in. And you do. 

It’s a wonder you haven’t come apart at the seams, horny and pent up after this morning. You were too sleepy to come after all, rode hard and put away wet. Still, you flit nervously around the apartment, looking everywhere but at him. 

He always smells rich after working all day in the sun, like sweat and dirt. It's not a particularly nice smell, but it still kind of gets you going. He goes for a shower and then collapses on the couch after, beckoning you over to you crawl into his lap and grind yourself on his thigh because he knows of course. Simon can probably smell it on you, the ache. He shushes you when you whine about it, big hands fitting around your hips and pressing you down until your clit rubs deliciously against the muscle of his thigh and your head goes cloudy, cheek mushed against the pillow of his chest. 

When you come, Simon tips your chin up with his knuckle and murmurs, “Knickers off, love. Haven’t got my fill.”

He feeds you your own slick from his fingers when he kneels on the floor in front of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders. Your fingers scratch helplessly over shorn blond hair, buzzed almost to the scalp. It’s prickly under your fingertips. 

Simon’s a messy eater. Your slick dribbles down his lips and glistens on his chin. It makes the blood roar under your skin, feverishly hot. 

“Please, Simon,” you whine, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It hurts.”

You feel his lips quirk up against the folds of your pussy, the flat of his tongue running up the seam and flicking over your clit. He chuckles when your hips jerk. “Greedy aren’t you, pet? Didn’t even say thank you for getting on my knees.”

“You didn’t make me come!”

His voice borders on mocking when he coos, “Poor little thing. It’s gonna be a lot longer ‘til she gets to come if you don’t say thank you.”

Your brain goes staticy, fingers twitching on his scalp. His words echo back in your head. It’s rubbish, is what it is. All this time and he’s never said thank you once for the countless meals you’ve fed him. Indignation bubbles up in you, rising to the surface like fat on the cream, and you raise a hand to rub the tears from your eyes, a harsh rebuke on the tip of your tongue.

The protest dies on your lips when he meets your gaze. It’s hungrier than anything you’ve ever seen. Whatever animal lives under his skin stares back at you with black eyes, drool leaking from its jowls. It’s mindless, intent only on slaking its hunger. Filling its empty belly. And it is not afraid of you anymore. It knows you’ll feed it until it’s full. It knows you won’t let it go hungry anymore. 

So, always leery of the bigger animal in the room, you mumble out a chest-thick, “Thank you,” and shiver when he grins. 

There’s a reason they tell you not to feed strays. They often come back for more.

[everythingne]

Little Miss Wingwoman - LN4

With baby Verstappen-Piquet on the way, Penelope's nanny needs a place to move into as she becomes an almost full time employee of the family. No better place than Lando's spare bedroom, only a few floors down from her job, right?

warnings/notes: none particularly? this might be like five parts or two parts, im not sure yet :D!

next part

Penelope's plan to get her two favorite people to fall in love begins to fall into place.

See, Penelope was smart. Kelly made sure she was creative and book smart while Max made sure she had the confidence to speak her mind. Penelope got all she wanted, within reason, spoiled just enough, worked for what she had to. Danced, played, sang, baked... she was kid, but she was smart. She could do it all herself if she wasn't a huge momma and daddy's girl. (Bonus-daddy's girl? She hadn't worked out the wording on that one yet.)

But, on the busy days, you visited.

Taking a summer gig to nanny in your last years of school, you didn't expect to be placed within the Verstappen-Piquet household. Two days in, you never wanted to leave, and Penelope--so so young back then, had refused to let you go. Now, a few years later, you traveled around with the family when needed. Most of the time, staying back to look over the apartment and the cats while they went around.

You were more so an extra set of hands for Kelly, someone who could run and get groceries before dinner, run Penelope to and from practices or accompany her to weekends with her father (the Kyvat's adored you as well), or someone who could stay back with Penelope for date nights or take her out for nights in.

After a few years of steady rhythm, everything was shaken up with baby Verstappen-Piquet on the horizon. A lot of changes needing to be made to prepare for the child, especially the further along Kelly was getting--appointments and classes and errands. A set of helping hands, especially when Max had to go off for work, was almost necessary.

But it was impossible to find apartments in Monaco on your budget. And with the spare room you had been using turning to a nursery for the little bugger coming along, you didn't have the luxury of sleeping in your employers home much longer.

And so, the hunt began.

Penelope had heard the news from Max, offhandedly mentioning it to Daniel during a padel game. The Australian didn't have space for you, as much as he'd grown to love your presence. A week later, he'd run into Charles while out getting dinner with P, and asked if he or Alexandra knew anywhere while Penelope pretended to be distracted by Leo. A week after that, Kelly had gone out to lunch with a bunch of her friends in the and discussed it openly.

A month in, Lando visited to watch Penelope while Kelly and Max went off to a doctor's appointment. Usually, you would stop by, but you were off on an early holiday vacation with family. The way Lando joked with Max, the easy smile on his lips, the awkward stumbles and laughter through his words... it was just like you could be.

Then, when Max asks, Lando mentions having a spare room he'd have to clean out. And the way Lando smiles when Penelope makes her way over to give him a hug, promising Max he'll keep her in line while the two of them are gone makes an idea flare in Penelope's head.

Lando needed a roommate, and you needed a place to stay. So, obviously, you were an absolutely perfect pair, right? It wasn't a new idea to her, you and Lando had met a few times over the course of the years you'd watched her. Mainly for short moments at whatever grand prix she'd begged you to come to, and the two of you seemed to get along...

And, she thinks you're both single. So, Penelope enacted stage one of her master wing(wo)man plan: getting you to move in with Lando.

While Penelope was scheming, browsing through YouTube for videos full of cutesy RomCom ideas, Lando was saying goodbye to Max and Kelly--wishing them luck, and then shutting the door behind him. He made quick work of sneaking a popcorn bag out of his backpack, popping it in the microwave while he scrolled through the countless movies on their smart TV--finding the perfect one for Penelope to watch.

The girl was engrossed, headphones shoved over her ears, watching a 'my top ten romantic moments in movies' compilation, but the smell of buttery goodness made her lift her head.

Lando smiles, holding out a bowl for her, "Too busy watching that for some old fashioned Disney?"

Glancing to the screen, Frozen 2 was paused on the opening screen, and Penelope tutted, "This came out in 2019."

"But thats like forever ago. Were you even born yet?" Lando smirks and Penelope takes the bowl from him with a scowl, but obliges to sit next to him on the couch, putting her iPad away for now, as Lando started the movie up.

But as Elsa is working to tame the Nøkk, Penelope lets out a soft sigh. Popcorn gone, and interest ruined. She wants to get back to studying. She has all winter break to make this love story happen, and with Lando and Max possibly going back for testing as early as January 3rd, she needs to act fast.

Lando glances over from where he's been idly answering emails between watching the movie, his own bowl empty. Penelope pouts while watching the movie, and he hums, looking at her.

"You're not even watching the coolest scene," Lando chimed softly, remembering the countless times little Mila would screech at the TV when she was really young. Penelope just huffed again, and he found himself curiously laying his head on his palm, "isn't this your favorite part?"

"No." Penelope deadpans, sighing again and dramatically slides off the couch onto her back and groans. She knows its a bit overkill, but its also Lando. He was a bit dramatic too. Penelope ends up closing her eyes for more drama as Sassy jumps off the couch and sniffs her head before trying to sneak a bite of corn kernels.

Lando reaches out and waves Sassy away, earning him a hiss and a sulk from the bengal as she stalks off to a far corner in the room. He slides the rest of his way out of the chair, hovering by Penelope's side before asking softly,

"What'sa matter, P?"

Penelope blinks open one eye at his approach, muttering, "The horse thing is Yn's favorite part of the movie."

"Yn?" Lando pops down on the floor next to her, pausing the movie on the TV, "is she one of your friends from dance?

"No, Yn is my nanny." Penelope sits up, a mischievous thought entering her mind, "but she doesn't have a place to live, so she's not my nanny now. Because she can't live in Monaco."

"Oh, that's a shame. D'ya miss her?" Lando asks softly and Penelope nods, leaning over to grab her iPad, pulling up a photo of the two of them squished together into the camera. Lando's smile tells Penelope all she needs to know, obviously he's totally in love with her, that's why he's grinning like that.

"That's a cute photo, P." Lando says. Jackpot. Shifting to lay on his stomach, Lando shuts his laptop on the couch and Penelope spends the rest of their three hour time talking non-stop about you to Lando. Practically making you sound like a damn angel rebirthed onto this Earth, shoving photos of you in his face, giggling like a mad man whenever he asks a question.

Penelope makes sure to have him follow your Instagram, grinning like a madwoman when he agrees to do so. When Max and Kelly come back, Lando stays for dinner, where Kelly informs Penelope you'll be visiting for a few days to do some apartment hunting.

Max seems to remember Lando lives alone and asks once more.

"I could clean the room out if she needs it," Lando says a bit more enthusiastically now. Penelope pats herself on the back as he says, "When Yn gets here, she can come over and take a look--just, just--just remind me to clean up. It's a bit messy."

"Wouldn't expect anything less from you, mate." Max grins and Lando sheepishly tries to defend himself while Kelly watches with a small smile, looking over to where Penelope eagerly grins.

A few days later, you fly in to Monaco. When the Verstappen-Piquet family stops by to visit, you greet them with tight hugs. Maneuvering around your big suitcase laying on the floor, you surprise Max and Kelly with a gift of a few baby items as well as some other much needed items for the couple. Namely, a gift card to Penelope's favorite store, which Max prompty hands back to you with the words, "she'd prefer shopping with her older 'sister'" tossed over his shoulder. The two don't stay long, having a flight to catch to the FIA Awards ceremony. So, Penelope stays in your hotel room while Max and Kelly go off, and you give her free reign to do whatever she wishes.

It only takes about ten minutes into you two being alone for Penelope to ask about the apartment search, almost bursting at the seams with a sense of excitement thats rare--even for her.

"Who told you that?" You spin around to poke your head out of the doorway, hands on your hips. You've spent the last twenty minutes trying to organize the tiny bathroom counter to fit most of your cosmetics and other items for the next few weeks you'd be staying here.

"I heard Maxie talking about it." Penelope looks up with big eyes, emphasizing her sad tone, "You aren't gonna live with us anymore?"

Sighing softly, you make your way across the room, sitting down next to a pouting Penelope on the bed, snatching her bottom lip between your fingers and lightly pulling it to make her giggle and roll away as you call, "keep your mouth like that and your face will freeze there forever!"

"It's gonna stay like this because I'm mad!" She groans, forcing back her smile and giggles, and sitting up and crossing her arms. Now overkill pouting to get her point across, "You aren't gonna live with me!"

"P, I don't fit in your place anymore." You sigh softly, laying across the bed and holding out an arm so the child can crawl over to lay against your side, "we gotta make room for the baby."

"We have to change everything for the baby!" Comes the sharp reply you were expecting. Max had warned you Penelope seemed a little snippy recently. While excited to have a little brother or sister, it was obvious Penelope was also feeling left out.

"Penelope," You soothe, rolling onto your side to prop your head up on a hand, "babies are a big change and unlike you and me, they can't take care of themselves. That's why your Momma and Max have to do all these classes, and appointments and everything. They've gotta make sure they're ready for the little thing."

"But the baby isn't even here yet and it's ruining everything!" Penelope laments, curling into your side, "Momma doesn't play anymore, Max is always busy moving stuff around, we haven't even had a movie night recently because Momma's been so tired!"

"I'm sorry, baby." You sigh. Totally unknowingly feeding right into Penelope's carefully laid trap, "you're allowed to be upset, but you have to also understand this is what has to happen."

"Will it go back to normal when the baby gets here?" Penelope looks up and you give her a little shrug, running a hand through her hair,

"Not for a while, baby."

"Can we go back to normal? Even if you don't live with us anymore?" Penelope sits up now, dragging you to join her and you smile, lifting her up to sit right on your lap as you fix up her unruly hair--another sign of Kelly's growing baby bump, the lack of Penelope hair-dos.

"We'll always be the same, and I'm looking at staying nearby. It'll be an adjustment but it won't be awful." You smile, tucking her hair up into a braid, securing it with a little bow at the end, "Wanna go get something to eat? Max gave me back the babysitting allowance card..."

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"Please!" Penelope gasps, standing up off your lap and jumping off the bed to grab her bag. A little stuffed cat Jelly Cat bag you think hearing Lando had snagged on a trip recently for the little girl. It's cute, and Penelope smiles when she sees you eyeing it.

"Lando got me this!" She proudly exclaims, holding it up as you slip on your shoes.

"Yeah?" You ask, walking to the door as Penelope bounces behind you, grinning wide enough her cheeks puff up, "you two seem to get along."

"He's really cool! You guys could be friends," Penelope laments, dragging you out of the hotel room once you have your shoes, jacket, and purse securely fastened for her little rollercoaster of a personality, "He thinks you're pretty."

Which, isn't exactly true, but it makes your face warm enough for Penelope as you step into the chilly air.

"Well, thats very kind of him," is your reply as you turn towards the coastline, hosting Penelope up into your arms so you don't have to worry about the curious five year old scurrying off.

You end up at one of Penelope's favorites, Costadoro Social. The place is downright adorable, and you manage to snag a window table. While you order, Penelope gets out only the best pages from her sticker book for the both of you to put together. Once you're both settled in, sandwiches and drinks (yours a coffee and hers a hot chocolate), the crowd mills out of the building. Leaving you and a somewhat familiar couple off in a corner, a third chair at their table yanked out like it's expecting someone to swing by.

As you two start on some winter scene in this very exact ticker book, Penelope rattles off countless stories to you about the weekend in Abu Dhabi. When she gasps, asking to show you the stickers she gave to Lando, you notice the curly headed man at the other table peeks over before turning to his girlfriend to ask something.

She shrugs, and the bell dings on the entry door. The woman behind the counter cheerily greeting the newcomer as you look down to where Penelope proudly shows you a picture Kelly had taken with her and Lando, showing off his stickers.

"They made him go fast and win," Penelope happily says, settling back in her seat. You nod, of course it was the stickers. Not because Lando was a professional, but Penelope looks smug like she'd been the reason for the McLaren WCC, so you let it slide. It's cute.

A Laufey cover of 'I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm' begins to play as you pull out your phone to show Penelope your mothers cats back home, as well as some other photos of the short trip back home.

The man at the table stands, walking over, and the motion catches Penelope's watchful eye as the two men give a short hug to one another--wishing happy holidays. You set your phone down, looking over as you sip your drink, and the dimpled smile of one of the men catches your eye.

He's cute.

He turns, as if feeling your gaze, and before you can jerk back he grins widely, "Hey Pen!"

"Lando!" Penelope squeaks, wiggling out of her chair and bounding over to give him a hug. The two share quick pleasantries and an introduction to Lando's friends--Max and Pietra, before Penelope gasps and runs over to you, "Lando, it's Yn!"

You stand at the mention of your name, hustling over with a sheepish smile as Penelope grabs your hand and drags you over like she'll die if she doesn't get the chance to.

"Hi," you squeak, shaking his awaiting hand, "It's nice to meet you, Penelope talks about you a lot."

His cheeks are rosy as you shake his hand, and a tiny grin pokes at Lando's lips as he nods, "she talks about you a lot, too."

"I told you she was pretty!" Penelope chimes, making Max nearly snort out his coffee while Pietra laughs softly. You and Lando are a bit closer to mortified at Penelope's insistence, and you manage to get her to say goodbye so the group can enjoy their lunch together since she does have dance rehearsal soon.

About two hours or so later, you get back to Max and Kelly's post rehearsal. And while Penelope curls up all about tuckered out from running amuck down the shopping districts, learning new ballet moves, and endlessly mentioning Lando like a lovesick teenager, you pull up your phone and scroll through your feed as Penelope fights off a nap.

It's due time for an Instagram post anyways.

liked by maxverstappen, kellypiquet, landonorris, and others...

yourusername: back home for the holidays <3

kellypiquet: the absolute best!

user: YESS YN AND PENELOPE CONTENT WILL RETURN

user2: omg that DRESS i need

⤷ yourusername: its an innika choo dress but im not sure if they're even open anymore :( kelly got it for me for my birthday last yr!!

⤷ user2: OMG THANK U ill keep an eye out!!!

maxverstappen: so thats why theres beads all over the carpet?

⤷ yourusername: i wasnt the cat who decided to try and eat them (jimmy)

⤷ maxverstappen: unsurprising

lilymhe: omg !!! we need to meet up! alex and i have been dying to update you on The Lore

⤷ yourusername: please!! ive been dying to see you guys again :(!!

user3: SO CUTE!!

user4: i would die to be living ur life yn

landonorris: penelope seems to keep you busy

⤷ yourusername: you saw her shenanigans today, it only gets worse

⤷ alexalbon: lando what r u doing

⤷ landonorris: ???????

⤷ maxverstappen: 👁️

⤷ landonorris: ???!!!!

You're halfway through helping Penelope with wrapping a christmas present for her dance teacher when Max knocks on the doorway. You turn around, standing when he beckons you over.

"How's Kelly?" You ask softly, knowing she's trying to sleep off a bout of morning sickness. Max shrugs, sipping his Red Bull.

"A bit ill, but she seems to be getting better. Penelope's fine?"

You nod, looking back as Penelope crosses her arms and scowls at all the options for the bow she could put on the bag.

"Lando's cleaned his apartment, finally," Max watches Penelope with a soft look, before turning to you and leaning on the wall with a tired yawn. He's still adjusting from the season, and the early sun dipping behind the buildings wasn't helping his sleep cycle.

"You should go over, take a little tour." Max hums, "You deserve a break from watching P all day."

"It's quite literally what you pay me to do, Max." You laugh softly, but with a few more pushes of insistence you finally agree. He shoots Lando a text to let him know you're on your way down as you grab a pair of Uggs you wear indoors, and your keys so you don't get locked out.

The elevator ride down is short, and you walk into the warm hallway to see Lando down the hall peeking out. He smiles at your approach and holds open the door for you.

"Nice to see you again," He chimes as you enter. It's been about a week since you've seen him, now teetering close to Christmas, and you smile at him.

"Nice to see you too, Lando." You hum, and he brings you to the spare room. It's spacious, with a big window that looks over the entire Monaco bay. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, it's perfect. Everything you could've dreamed of and more. Lando makes sure to show you the ensuite bathroom and large closet.

Everything feels too good to be true, so you quickly ask, "How much would you want me to pay you in rent?"

"Rent?" Lando pauses in the kitchen where he'd offered to get you a soda from his sparse fridge. He shakes his head, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of his water bottle, "Max told me your budgets quite small. I figured I could pay rent and you could pay like... utility?"

"That's gotta be like a quarter of what you pay for this place, Lando. I have a good amount saved up!" You protest and he shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips.

"Listen, you're honestly doing me a favor. You probably know how to make a house a proper functioning home. I barely know how to not burn leftovers when I reheat them." He chides himself and you break into a tiny laugh, missing the way his face gets rosy at your giggles, "I need a bit of help making this place look... homey. And Max told me you'd be good at that."

"So I'm helping you learn to adult to pay my rent?" You ask and your bluntness makes Lando flush as he rubs the back of his neck and looks down with a shrug.

"If that's okay..?"

"I mean... I'd like to pay, but if you wanna do it this way, fine... But if I end up staying here for a long time, you have to let me help with rent." You hold a hand out like this will seal the deal and Lando grins, his embarrassment forgotten as he darts over to happily shake your hand. You try to ignore how warm his hands are against your cold ones.

"Welcome home, then--oh! I have a spare key for you!" He tries to flash you a charming smile, but the excited expression taking over just makes his face go through far too many expressions in a row. You can't help but laugh, looking around the bare but clearly well loved apartment.

It could use some work, sure, but thats your job now... you suppose.

general tag (open!)

@d3kstar @justalittlejess (jess ur on here now enjoy LMAO)

series specific tag (open!)

@nikfigueiredo

[dvchvnde]

PRAIRIE WOLF | prologue

domestic violence, abuse (not Price). unexpected pregnancy. implied age gap.

MASTERLIST. AO3

He's a regular at the diner you work at.

Sits in the same spot, orders the same thing. Doesn't say much, but—according to Elliot—he never does. English, too. A foreigner. But here longer than you've been. Grown roots. Stretched his legs.

He owns a cabin in the woods that be built with his bare hands, and does odd jobs around town wherever he's needed. Mostly carpentry. Woodwork. Only forty, Elliot says, and already semi-retired. Military grunt, though (and in a terrible, exaggerated cockney accent, he adds) back home.

Running from something, he surmises, and you try not to feel flayed under his heavy, pointed stare, offering little more than a shrug you hope is more blase than you feel and a flat, aren't we all? so what makes his marathon so special?

Comes by at five in the morning, fours hours into a twelve hour shift. Likes, what he calls, an English Breakfast.

He isn't like some of the men who show up after midnight, or in the early hours. Blue collar works hungry for more than rubbery pancakes and coffee. The ones who ignore the split in your lip, hidden under a thick coat of lipstick, the puffiness of your eye. Whispering oil-slick charm at quarter to three in the morning when the pregnancy test you stole from the dollarrama is still buried under bloodied toilet paper in the motel you've converted into a temporary home.

Price—John Price—stares at the mess of your pretty face and meets the ugliness head-on, eyes narrowed into something that might be suspicion. Askance. Wariness. Some amalgamation of what the fuck happened to you and don't bring that mess over to my table.

Quiet. In theory.

You've heard him talk—this low, growling thing; the misfire of an engine, a rumble that reminds you of the old Plymouth Fury your dad had. Dangerous. Men like him usually are.

Little girl fantasies spun into real life. Duct tape. Magnets to girls like you with all the broken pieces, fragile parts. And with the bruises bubbling under your skin—burst blood vessels, fist-sized—and the—

The kid, you suppose. Baby. You can't afford to get wrapped up into something like that no matter how many times you catch him staring.

Watching.

The other server always handles his order when he arrives. Since starting work here four months ago, you maybe had all of a single conversation when you floated through the diner in search of something to do.

more coffee? a glance. a grunt. yeah, love. I'll have some more.

So you ignore it. Him. Keep your head down and pour cup after cup to the other regulars who congregate and pretend you aren't living in a motel to escape a man who seems to prefer you bruised up and bloody. Who—

Knocked you up.

Your hand goes there. To your belly. Nauseous, suddenly, with the thought of it. This.

When you glance up, unease prickling across your nape, you catch him staring at you. At the hand still splayed over your stomach. Something frisson across his expression—whiplike: ripples over a lake—but it's too fast, fleeting, for you to catch. Tucked back inside the folds of his patented frown, the ever present crease between his thick, umbre brows.

John lifts his eyes from your ringless hand, the swollen index finger from when you made the mistake of pointing to the door, trying to stand firm with your luggage hidden in the bushes, and meets your gaze. Stares at you head-on. Implacable as always. Blank.

But—and it's so silly, really—for a moment, you thought it was hunger. Something heavy and dark. Possessive.

Then his head dips. A shallow nod. John looks away, eyes slanting towards the window as if he didn't have to tear his gaze away from your belly. From you.

Your heart is in your throat. This too thick, fragile thing thudding against your jugular. Hard to breathe, hard to swallow around it. In the way—

Outside, tires squeal against the pavement.

John tenses. A shadow falling over his brow, a tug on his lips hidden under thick, wry curls.

You don't know what it is until the familiar gurgle of an engine cuts through the silent diner.

He looks back at you as a door slams. A shout erupts.

Fear is a thick, oily sludge filling your lungs. Tarlike. Sticky molasses. It burns, corrosive, and eats away at your tissue until a hole forms, letting spill out inside of you. To your belly where it hardens into a ferric ball of panic.

You thought you had time. One last shift. Collect your paycheck and then run—

But he found you.

He bellows out your name, angry and a little slurred. Drunk. High. Like the passive, maltreated dog he turned you into, you follow the sound, cowing a little when you see him stumble into the diner, face collapsed into fury.

There's a clatter. The hollow echo of wood hitting linoleum. Screams, his yells. It's all muted in your head. Panic throbbing against your ears, stuffing them full of cotton.

His bruised, marled fist reaches for you—

But John gets there first. His broad stretch of his back filling your vision as he pushes himself into the empty space between you and this man, hands raised, catching his mangled fist in one and grabbing a handful of his shirt, tugging him closer. It's all raw, untameable anger as he huffs into the man's face, grinding the words out on a rough, animalistic snarl—

"Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do."

Stress like this ain't good for the baby, the paramedic tells you, brown eyes dampening with a thick ring of sympathy as she turns over your wrist, and dabs cool, wet cotton over the welts on your skin.

She's pushing for you to press charges. Keeps swiping at your skin to unveil more of your hidden hurts to the police officer that holds an old kodak in his hands and snaps, snaps, snaps at every weakness, each vulnerability she offers up.

It'd be the smart thing to do. He's already being booked on assault, threats. Battery for hitting John on the shoulder, the only place he could reach, with the shovel left by the cooks to scrape the snow away from the spot they usually gather around to smoke. No one brings up the fact that John was choking the life out of him at the time, and the bruises around his neck—ugly red fingerprints—are easily ignored.

Adding domestic violence to the list of charges, she mutters, will keep him locked up. Away from you. Can file for a restraining order, the cop adds, scratching the back of his neck as the camera sits, poised and intrusive, in his other hand.

The problem is that you've been through this before.

Like mother, like daughter.

The knife twists a little deeper. Gouges out another pound of flesh lost to a broken home. Another cog in a ruinous system. Poor kid, below the poverty line, with a dad who sold drugs and mother who did them. Dime a dozen.

And with that comes the knowledge that his sentence will be lighter than they're alluding to—if he has one at all. Upstanding citizen before he got shackled in with the wrong crowd, the runaway. Trouble who breezed through and picked the son of an attorney in the big city some three hours away from this town, this dilapidated diner. Sinking claws in.

My son never drank or did drugs before, your honour—

He'll get off with a slap on the wrist because he's never been in trouble before.

Your dad, too—in jail for the weekend when your mother relented to the impassioned beseeches given to her by rookie cops who just wanted that arrest notch on their belt. Saw a judge on Monday. Prison too crowded for such a paltry offense.

The hurt, after, was always worse than what he went to jail for.

So. No. You won't press charges even though you know you should. It'll take too long and you don't plan on staying much longer. Not with your luggage packed in the trunk. The cheque shoved clumsily into your hands when the manager came out to make a fuss, angling a purpling finger in your direction—nothin' but trouble since the day you were hired—only to be stopped by the wall that is John Price, a snarl pulling up at his lips as he barked call the fuckin' police and, low, as if he didn't want you to hear, adding: you ever point your finger at her again like that, and I'll hang you from the goddamn rafters.

You're not sure why he's still here, standing watch. On guard. His bloodied, bruised hands shoved into his armpits as he paces back and forth like a caged tiger unaware the door has been open the whole time. Stalking. Taking measured, meaningful steps towards anyone who tries to come over—badge or not. Barking out orders. Lancing people with his glare when they tread too closely.

Good fucking samaritan, you think, eyes riveted on the blood drying over the gravel. Your head looping, weaving in arching circles as you try to contend with the fact that it somehow isn't yours, but his.

Maybe that's why he stays. Obligation. Civic duty. It makes you snort, and the paramedic glances at you sharply, assessing in that too thick, too kind, way of hers.

"You doin' okay, mama?"

And you wish she wouldn't call you that. Make it real. Mama. Your idea of motherhood, of mothers and moms and mamas, is a woman slumped on the couch, passed out after staying up all night talking to ghosts. Nails caked with the dust of percocets and restoril and oxycodone (oxycotton, she's always called it). Popping mouthful of pills in the morning, afternoon, evening, and night. An assortment to keep her functional—and asleep.

Nodding off in the middle of conversations. Or fighting it to stay high. Irritated and combative whenever she ran out, supply gone dry.

Toxic.

Neglectful—at best.

You can't think about what you'll end up doing to this kid with her blood in your veins. Her ghosts in your head.

John moves. A shadow in the corner of your eye. "'bout enough of that, don't you think?"

She backs up, startled by the aggression in his voice. "I just—"

You think you hate them both. "I'm fine."

She looks back at you, searching. Wanting that assurance, but whatever she's looking to find, it isn't there. You won't give it, and eventually she nods. Peels back. "Okay. If you feel any soreness at all, if anything changes, come to the hospital."

The nod is for her benefit only, and she takes it with a deep inhale.

It thins out after that. The cop and his camera leave, too, after making you take the paperwork needed to file charges. If you change your mind. His number in smeared blue ink on the back. The paramedics go after another futile round of are you sure you don't want to get checked out at the hospital that's decline with a shake of your head.

It's just you and Price now. Your beatup Saturn three spots away from his truck—an old Ford you hadn't been expecting a man like him to drive, with his thick Levi jacket and his steel-toed boots. Standing there with an armful of paper that's going to go in the trash, you're not sure what to do. How to untangle yourself from the claws of this vicious bear that seems content to loom over you like an unasked for cloud, glaring down at you from the bridge of his nose. Expression pinched, like he's displeased. Mad.

You've had enough of angry men, though, and you turn, offering a hollow smile that works it's way around your mouth like a grimace. "Guess I should head home—"

"Running, mm?"

You blink. "Sorry?"

He leans down, all grit and blunt teeth. "That your plan? Runnin' away from all'a this? Find another town. Another motel."

Another man.

He doesn't say it, but it's there. The implication. The idea. It rankles down your spine, a whitehot ooze of shame. Of anger.

"You don't know me," you spit, all anger and indignation. Embarrassment so sharp, it cuts. "You don't know anything about me."

He rocks back on his heel, mouth flattening into an even line. "No, I don't. But I know your type."

"You—"

The indignity is increased tenfold when he meets your ire with an impassive stare, so firm in his assessment of you that he doesn't even bulk when you glare at him. When you rage in quiet fury, shoulders shaking.

"You'll run," he continues, bulling over the vitriol that stutters out in broken squeals of anger. "You'll find a new place. And it'll be fine for a little while but then you'll end up in the same situation because that's all you know, isn't it? S'why you're not pressing charges. Why you got your bag in your back seat. The slightest pressure and you bolt—straight into the same predicament you're in now."

"It's not my fault—"

"No," he grinds the word, firm and sure, and it snatches you by the throat because no one has ever agreed with you on that. It's not your fault. It's just—

"—all you know."

"What am I supposed to do differently, huh? Stay and press charges that won't stick? Wait for him to get out, frothing at the mouth for revenge? Yeah, right," you scoff, rolling your eyes up towards the stale sky. "End up as another statistic? Or—"

Like your mother. It quiets you. Snuffs the flames. All you feel is scraped raw. Hollowed out. Empty and hitting and—

"So you'll just run your whole life? Until it catches up to you, mm? What happens when someone finds you in a place you can't run? When you're all alone, and cornered?"

It tastes like defeat. Resignation. "You think I haven't thought of that before?"

From the corner of your eye, you see him shrug. "Got yourself into a little mess, but it ain't the end of the world. Jus' got to fix it. Can't do that when you run."

"And what's your solution? Find another job, hope that his charges stick? He—"

Drained you financially. Beat you bloody.

You shake your head. "The best thing to do is to leave. I'll be smarter, I'll—"

He scoffs. You ignore it, hands shaking.

"I can't. I just—I can't."

"Come stay with me," he says. Just like that. Stay with me. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Come stay with me. "Got a spare room."

"I don't even know you—"

"People rent to strangers all the time."

"I don't have a job. Money. I can't pay you—"

"Been needin' a receptionist for some time. Pay is fair. Hourly."

You blink, eyes hot. Wet. You feel the sharp edge of hope digging in, that deadly, terrible thing that only ever falls apart when you finally relax.

"Just like that?"

He nods, sharp and firm. "Jus' like that."

"I have a kid," you blurt out, panicked. This conversation is getting away from you. Slipping through your fingers. And the worst is that it sounds so good. Too good. "I'm—I'm pregnant," you add like he doesn't already know. Hadn't heard you mutter it to the paramedic hours ago.

The look he levels you with is an incendiary thing. You feel it in your chest. Deadcentre. "I know," he rasps, head bending down closer to you. "Doesn't change anythin'."

"How could it not?"

"How should it?" He counters.

"In a few months, when the baby is here—"

"I won't change my mind."

"You say that now," you breathe, pulse thudding in your ears. "But when it's screaming in the middle of the night, and—"

His hand reaches out slowly, like he's trying not to startle a horse. Fingers grazing your arm, warm and rough, before closing around your wrist. The one that's bruised and sore. Swollen in his hand. Its done with measured purpose, confidence, that the panic doesn't have time to surge. Instincts too incipient to keep up with the sure, steady way he winds around you.

With his hand on your wrist, fingers folding over the hurt—hiding them—he leans down, thumb stroking along your skittish, unraveling pulse, and makes you meet his stare. Open, maybe, for the first time since you met him. All raw want, naked truth. The bare, fractured look is enough to steal the air in your lungs, snuffing out the innate protests that spume whenever someone offers any sort of help or charity. The no crushed under his heel.

"m'a man of my word," he low, drawing the words out. "I'll be there for the cryin' and the dirty diapers and the sleepless nights."

"And when I can't work for you?"

His lips quirk. "I offer better MAT leave than most places. Reckon you could even do the bloody job from bed."

"Price, that's—this is insane—"

"John," he grunts, giving another shrug before peeling away from you. "Savin' me the trouble of talking to these idiots. Ain't nothin' crazy about that."

"I could be a horrible person. A murderer. Rob you blind, and leave you with you nothing."

It has the opposite effect of scaring him off. If anything, he looks amused. Squares his shoulders, stands to his full—intimidating, impressive—height. Stares down at you with a brow quirked and strange gleam in his eyes.

"Think I can handle myself, love. And if you wanna rob me, bite the hand, so to speak, then I promise you, you won't like the consequences."

You swallow. His tone sparks against your sense of self-preservation, and you fight the urge to take a step back. To put distance between yourself and this grizzly-like man with blunt teeth and sharp claws.

He senses your hesitation. Must because he quiets, shoulders sinking. Hand warm on your skin, giving a slight squeeze before he lets go. You ignore the urge to chase that heat again, and hide a shiver behind a shift.

"How 'bout a test ride, mm? A trial. Stay for a few weeks and then decide if you still want to leave."

Too good to be true. You know this deep down in your marrow. Every instinct inside of you rebelling against this, screaming trap, it's a trap. But there's a truth to what he says, and maybe if you weren't pregnant, you would have flipped him off and ran because men like him aren't kind to girls like you unless they have a reason to be.

You're just not sure what he has to gain in all of this. Why he put himself between you and harm without so much as a sparing glance. Stayed, too, and barked at everyone who got too close. A thunderous shadow full of teeth.

And maybe it's that. The blood concealing into a thick, pulpy plum over the split of his knuckles, the blood on the gravel that isn't yours, the goosebumps rising over the spot he touched, colder than the rest of your skin, that makes you quieten under his heavy stare. Softening into something agreeable. Unreasonable. Instincts shoved into a box.

So you nod and let him place his hand over the small of your back, guiding you to his truck with a firm nudge. Say anything when he helps you in, hands fastening the seatbelt with a clipped I'll be back when he finishes, keeping his wary eyes on you even as he moves quickly towards your car, grabbing your suitcase from the back. Promises to get your car later, too. Bring it back to his house.

And yours, too, he adds, glancing your way after he tosses the suitcase in the backseat, searching for something you're not sure he'll find. So you look away, staring at the dust on the dashboard as he rounds the truck, and slips into the front seat. It smells like him. Fresh leather and the wild. Cedar and moss. Tobacco. Something heady. Masculine. Soaked sage. Loam. Gasoline.

You lean back on the headrest, breathing it in. Trying not to think.

You'll keep your luggage packed. The keys in the ignition. When whatever it is he's planning comes to the forefront, you'll be ready to run.

But right now—

You just want to sleep. Your jaw aches. Your wrist. There's a knot in your stomach—not good for the baby—and it thickens each time you look at his bloodied knuckles curled loosely over the steering wheel, the other on the stick. Close enough that you can feel the heat bleeding into your knee. All fire and spite, and—

Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do.

"Get some rest," he grunts, eyes slanting towards you in a brief, heavy flick. "I'll stop and get some food soon, too, but it's a two hour drive to mine. And you look dead on your feet, sweetheart."

Love. Sweetheart. I won't change my mind.

You swallow down the protest that swells, the lingering residuum of self-preservation that won't let you bear your neck just yet, and offer a slow nod, blaming the easy submission on fatigue. These aches and pains that weep, tender to the touch.

Your eyes slip shut against your better judgement, the warm interior of the truck, his smell, bleeding a sense of soporific comfort you can't remember the last time you ever felt. Just a quick nap, you think. Long enough to rest your eyes—

It's swallowed under the deluge of exhaustion that rushes through when your shoulders drop, lax. He mutters something, but it's awash under the seafoam that fills your ears, lapping waves dragging you further and further away from shore. Something that sounds like girl good but you can't be sure. Hypnagogia is a terrible a thing that likes to spin dreams, play pretend in the cradle of your subconsciousness until the lines between reality and fantasy blur. Ignoring it is easier than admitting that it floods you with a warmth so deep, sweat gathers along your hairline. Feverish and sickly sweet.

Fingers dance along the edge of your brow, rough and coarse, and it's a devastating thing, isn't it? All this tenderness along the broken edges of yourself, nails grazing the fractures like they can be fixed, pushed back into place, and not as if they're about to shatter. It makes you want to lash out even though you can't feel your body anymore, stuck between worlds of wake and rest. Later, maybe, when the phantom press doesn't feel so sweet you'll snap—broken jaw and brittle teeth—at his hand until he remembers to never touch you again. A risk he won't take.

But with the knot in your belly, a baby there, too, and a body more contusion than flesh, you let it happen. Mewl, maybe, a quiet little slip of a thing, and curve into the palm resting over your cheek. Small and docile, leaching comfort as fast as you can before you remember yourself.

in the moonglade, you murmur thank you and swallow down a rough, painful sound when he scoffs under his breath, and says ain't got nothin' to thank me for, sweetheart.

[dahliakbs]

✧⁠*⁠。Bat kids using your house as their getaway.✧⁠*⁠。

Masterlist

After a long day of work your decide to retire to your small and humble abode, but what's this?

A grown man and two kids sitting on your doorstep, one struggling to pick your lock while both kids sat on look out.

They immediately noticed your figure standing in the hallway.

"Um, what's all this?" You say pointing to the luggage that they've brought along with them.

"Tim drove the batmobile through the house and no one wants to be there when Bruce gets home" Dick explains.

"How'd you-"

"Honestly, I've seen five year olds with better driving skills Drake" Damian comments.

"Shut it hell spawn, not everyone was taught how to drive. Alright?" Tim says bitterly.

"Okay guys! You can not keep crashing at my place whenever something is wrong" you interrupt.

"Suppose someone sees you guys coming here" you push past Dick and push your keys in the door.

Honestly, you didn't mind their presence but sometimes they'd show up at the most random times and cause you all sorts of trouble.

Especially Jason.

Every once in a while he'll force open your side window and come inside your house to read one of the few books on your shelf.

Now that's not the problem, the problem is that half the time he bruised and bloody and your house is always his next destination after a tough fight.

On separate occasions Damian will crash at your house, mostly when he doesn't want to deal with his father's demands or if he did something wrong.

Like that one time he randomly showed up to your house with a pillow and a toothbrush and refused to tell you why he was here.

But then he's dragged back home by his dad the same evening, can't remember why.

Something about Damian blowing a hole in the back of their microwave.

But back to the present.

When you turned the knob of your front door you were immediately met with the sight of Jason Todd lounging on your sofa with a book in hand.

"What is this, a family gathering?" you walk in as the rest shuffle in behind you.

"What next, is Bruce also gonna show up out of thin air-"

Then you notice the large brooding male standing at the entrance of your kitchen silently.

.... sigh

"So you really just watched us struggle to open the door for an hour and refused to help" Tim asked while avoiding Bruce's glare.

"Basically" Jason responds.

"Your all grounded..... Including you" he points to you.

"...But I live here"

[f1amour]

✧˚ · . make me juno

pairing | max verstappen x popstar!reader

word count | 2.3k

content warnings | some social media au, established relationship, smitten max, light dom!max, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, brief choking kink, praise kink, squirting, HEAVY BREEDING KINK, cock warming, teasing, unprotected sex — 18+ only, minors do not interact

authors note | happy belated birthday to max #1 certified cat lover <3

navigation. | requests — open | main masterlist.

yourusername juno out now available to download and stream! happy birthday baby 💋🤍

tagged — maxverstappen

comments below…

user1 MAX MUSIC VIDEO DEBUT

user2 begged for a cameo from max and we got a whole ass film 🧎‍♀️

yourusername my man is too hot for only a small cameo. made sure to showcase his actor side>>>

landonorris i did NOT have to watch an 8 minute film of you and max being horny. disgusting.

yourusername the first minute of the video was horny you could have exited but you watched the whole thing. our biggest fan 🥹🫶🏼

landonorris fuck off

maxverstappen1 wanna say that again?

landonorris 🏃‍♂️💨

user3 max trying to be serious through the video but breaks into a smile anytime y/n would sing to him 😭

user4 they just broke the internet with this video

user5 never thought i would see max and y/n horny on main in 2024

user6 did you guys not listen to her latest album? girl gave us a whole ass ovulation album. GIVE HER A BABY MAX!

maxverstappen1 i’m trying

─────────────────────────

being with max for five years now you’d grown used to knowing his likes and dislikes; both in & out of bed.

especially in bed.

“have you always been this keen on having kids? even before me?” you manage to spit out while sitting on max’s lap, his lips prepping kisses all over your neck and chest.

you had just spent the day celebrating his birthday on a yacht with all of yours and max’s close friends and family so he had been extra needy arriving home since he couldn’t have his way with you all day with everyone surrounding both of you.

his lips detach from your neck looking you in the eyes full of love, “i’ll remind you any chance i get when it comes to that, you are the reason i want a family. the reason i see myself being your husband and father of our children before you i never saw that with anyone else.” max would take any chance to remind you how ready he was to be your husband and have kids with you.

“i don’t want to wait anymore. not for the wedding or the babies…i want it now.” you whisper desperately clinging onto max. his eyes widen at your statement, “now?”

“we’ll have the wedding after the baby is born. we can go to to the courthouse this week and make it official just us two. don’t you want that, maxie?” sitting on his lap grinding against his hardened cock make it even more difficult for him to say the words.

“yes…fuck yes of course, baby. i don’t want to wait any longer to have you as my wife. gonna fuck you so full of my cum tonight and make you a mommy. god i can’t wait any longer.” his hands cupping your face and pulling you into a hungry and messy kiss. both of you quickly removing your clothes off each other desperately needing to feel as close as possible.

you start getting on your knees but max pulls you back up, “as much as i want you on your knees stuffed with my cock in your mouth, i need to taste you.” his words immediately taking affect on your core.

“b-but it’s your birthday…w-w-wanna gi—.” your words stutter out, after placing you on the bed hovering over you his lips meet your neck down to your stomach before he situates himself between your thighs.

“getting to taste you is the best gift i could ever get.” your legs squeeze his head, thighs keeping him close to your pussy as he licks, laps, and sucks until you're close to the edge.

"’m so close, max, so close," you feel like you're in a trance as his fingers hook inside of you brushing your g-spot. he presses his palm into your lower tummy, applying gentle pressure as you nearly thrash under him from how intense the buildup is.

"cum for me, baby. make a mess all over my face," he growls before you feel yourself snapping as your orgasm flows through you. max rides you through the orgasm, tongue lapping at your core as your legs are left shaking.

“max…” you gasp out of breath as cleans you with his tongue, your fingers slowly caressing his hair. he

"you are so perfect, baby." he cooes, thumb resting on your lip as you part your mouth and bite down on it. you feel him stiffen under you, "ik hou van je. (i fucking love you)" he groans under his breath as you wrap your lips around his thumb.

"my fingers look so good shoved in your mouth," he purrs, hearing you whimper as he massages your pelvis. you can feel yourself growing wetter, the heaviness in your mouth feels comfortable before his lips are on yours.

"shit," he hisses, "i’m done waiting…i’ll take my time with you later.”

he doesn't give you a chance to speak before he's fisting his cock, lining up with your entrance, and pushing in "fuck, fuck," his voice is low and raspy, the feeling of him sinking into you, whispering out a various dutch words as he sinks deeper and deeper into you.

"this," he thrusts, slamming the headboard against the wall,"is what l've been fuckin' cravin. can’t wait to see you round and full." his thrusts are deep and slow before he can't hold back and he's fucking you into the mattress, loud moans and skin slapping are the only sounds filling the room.

your walls flutter around his cock and you're coming for the second time that night, "gonna have you cum a few more times, baby. keeping us up all night and make sure i get you pregnant." he snaps, bed in shambles as it creaks and squeaks before his own thrusts are growing sloppy.

"gonna fill you up," he moans, "fuck, you're gonna be so fuckin' stuffed. looking so perfect carrying our babies." his breathing is laboured, chasing his release before it hits him and he’s spilling inside you.

you stay close together for a brief moment before you both are desperate for another round, trying to rock your hips because he's still hard inside of you, "max…," you plead. "need more. please, please, please.”

he chuckles deeply at your desperation, "yeah?" he switches your positions, flipping over, lying on his back as you're straddling him and you fall into his chest because he’s impossibly deep, you were sure you’d come right there once again just from that position

you rock your hips, steadying yourself over his chest as he groans, "that's my good girl, you feel so fucking good like this. my soon to be wife. mother of our babies. i love you.” he’s lost himself in you, unable to form a coherent sentence as you lose yourself in the feeling of riding him like never before.

his sweet words and whines coming from his mouth have you quicken your movements, "you feel so good, max," you mumble, "all yours, baby. i’m all yours," he groans, digging his fingers into your skin as he meets your thrusts.

“how you doing, baby? you okay?” despite being deep inside you he slows down checking on you. he was starting to feel the exhaustion catch up to him but he was still hard as a fucking rock with your cunt clenching around him.

you nod giving him a smile, “m’ okay…getting sleepy,” you mumble out before pulling him closer to you (if that was even possible), “fill me up one more time, maxie. then we take a nap…and go again.”

despite being completely exhausted from the hours of fucking you wanted max to ensure you were pregnant by the end of the break. you were ready to become his wife and now have his babies as soon as possible.

his thrusts are deep and slow while you two conversed until your last sentence he can't hold back and he is fucking you senselessly now giving deep and rough thrusts, your moans filling the room chanting his name.

"come on, baby. cum 'round my cock, yeah…fuck," he hisses when you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him inside of you as he comes inside you once again.

catching your breaths you lay on top of him now, his cock buried inside you, “can’t believe we’ve been awake all night.” you chuckle against his chest while his hand plays with your hair.

“i have a month of uninterrupted free time with you and i’m gonna take advantage of that.” max kisses your head and you close your eyes getting comfortable in his arms.

“remember when we first met?” you ask him, knowing he’d go on a yap session about it. he would talk about it to anyone who asked and you loved him so much for knowing the small things just from the first moment you met.

“do i remember? how could i forget when you assumed i was a mechanic instead of the driver? oh and your perfect smile—.”

2018

meeting at the united states gp in austin the year of 2018 you were just 19 years old on your first world tour of your singing career. you had a concert on the first day of the race weekend so you met a few of the drivers and you tried your best to remember their names but there was so many.

max had been watching your performance with a huge smile on his face, he was in a meeting causing him to miss the introductions most of the drivers had with you. but here he was waiting for you at the side of the stage to introduce himself. he had grown to be a fan the last few months and when he found out you’d be performing at the austin gp he was counting down the days.

“hi i’m max…i’m with redbull—.”

you had gotten off stage ecstatic with the crowd cheering you on to be meet with a slightly taller guy dressed in some jeans and a white jacket paired with a redbull hat. the redbull hat made you assume he was a mechanic for the team so you cut him off, “oh nice to meet you! i’m y/n, how is it like working on the cars for redbull? you’re a mechanic right?”

max was confused at the question many things did not make sense when you asked but he assumed you didn’t know much of the sport (which was very true). he decided to go alone with it appreciating the chance to speak with you just for a few minutes before you were pulled away again for some interviews.

few weeks later he got your number from lewis who had been a mentor in your life for awhile now being in the limelight at a young age he took you under his wing. after checking with you first he gave max your number sending you a text and getting his full name you search him up on instagram realizing he wasn’t a mechanic but a goddamn driver for redbull racing.

lewis couldn’t help but laugh at your cluelessness when it came to the sport only sending him messages if he won not caring for any other drivers; until now.

after many apologies through the phone and max waving it off as something to laugh about. you grew a close friendship with him for the next year waiting patiently for him to ask you out.

PRESENT

“i had to wait a year before i got the balls to ask you out and then—oh.” he chuckles stopping mid sentence looking down at you realizing you had fallen asleep. he gives your head a kiss and falls into some much needed sleep alongside you.

you had woken up a few minutes ago with your back against max’s chest settling between his thighs. he had been playing with you hair until his hands started wandering down your body, “max…” you sigh contently feeling his finger play with your clit.

when two fingers slip through your folds, an obscene moan runs through you before they're filling you up. "that's my good girl, look at how well you're taking my fingers," he cooes, fingers curled deep inside you.

"that feels good, doesn't it, baby?" he taunts, you nodded your head, eager to feel his fingers moving some more as you rocked your hips in sync.

the pressure building up made you squirm, max was edging you and now you were nearly in tears, “oh…oh god,” whispering as you beg him to let you cum.

"that's it, my pretty girl," he hummed, “love hearing your moans, love feeling you cum, baby. squeezing my fingers with your tight pussy. gonna have your pussy squeezing my cock after this.”

"fuck," max groans, your orgasm gushes out of you; soaking his hand and bed sheets. you pant trying to catch your breath, "think we need to get ready for the day...we can't stay in bed forever. i wanna take you to a cat cafe--."

"just one more for me, schatje, one more and then we go to all the cat cafes we want," he smiles sweetly, kissing your neck finding your sweet spot and getting a moan out of you. how could you deny him?

pulling you in for a passionate kiss he flips you around and looks you in the eyes filled with lust, "wanna try another position?" he mumbles against your lips and you nod, not having to tell him the one you wanna try because he knows it's your favorite.

with your face pressed into the bedsheets and ass up in the air he gives you a soft slap before sliding his cock deep inside your aching cunt, "fucking christ...shit," he groans with each deep thrust your walls squeeze him.

"not gonna last, max..." you whine, your hands grip the sheets as he gives you a rough slap on your ass, "me neither, baby. you gonna cum with me? come on, schat. gonna fill your tight pussy with my cum and make you mine forever." his thrusts growing faster and sloppier, but his words have you pushing back against him meeting his hips.

"yes, yes, yes...wanna have your baby please fill me up, maxie," he pushes you up against his chest his hand wrapping around your throat squeezing it lightly. it was more than enough for you to ride out yet another orgasm, "that's it, baby. make a mess all over my cock." he groans feeling your walls flutter around him, with a few more thrusts his cum fills you up.

your heavy pants fill the room, feeling him pull out of you after a few minutes making sure each drop of his cum filled you up he flips you over laying you down and grabbing a warm towel to clean you up, "doing okay, my darling?" he smiles down at your loopy grin.

"so good. i love you." you tell him once he finishes cleaning you up and settling in bed for a few minutes before you go and shower. "i love you more. best birthday ever." max tells you, and he meant it being the best birthday especially if you do end up pregnant.

you run your fingers along his jaw, "think you made me juno yet?" you smile sheepishly at him and you both break out into a fit of laughter, "well if that didn't, we'll just have to keep on going until you are."

[i-like-writing-stuff]

never changing [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: hi y’all! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve been on here, but after the absolute shit show that season 4 was, some sparks ignited in me to write up anything to take my mind off it 🙌

its not anything crazy, just fluff and banter since i haven’t written anything in years so it may be as poorly redacted as this season lmao

summary: five and y/n attend their niece birthday party together, yet separate

“Happy birthday, little Gracie!” You smiled widely, trying not to drop the wrapped present box as the six year old girl jumped into your arms, “Oh my gosh, look at you! You’re just getting prettier by day, aren’t you?”

You had just got off work in a hurry to make your appearance at the little girl’s birthday party at a decent time, in spite of the amount of paperwork you managed to bury yourself in lately. You knew how much it would have meant for the celebrated one to show up and you couldn’t bear to let her down, especially on her birthday.

After spending most of your life working for the Commission, and then a decent amount of time exhausting yourself in trying to stop multiple Apocalypses, your last six years have been pretty quiet as a lawyer. You really wanted to get out of the whole assassin thing, but at the same time couldn’t exactly move on from the thrill of the work field. Your career as a lawyer took off really well these past years, but inevitably it came along with the cost of always being stuck at work, so whenever your niece got the chance to see you, she was truly enthusiastic.

“Auntie Y/N!” She wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, engulfing you into a tight hug, “You are here!”

Nonetheless, these six years have been truly and undeniably the most peaceful time of your life for as long as you could remember.

“You literally saw each other the other day,” Five raised a brow, watching you and the celebrated one act as if you hadn’t seen each other in years.

You and the little girl shared a look, before rolling your eyes and turning to glare at the man next to you. Ever since Grace learned how to talk, you and her would gang up on her uncle for your amusement, especially since he was so keen on entertaining the banter.

These past six year have gone by in the blink of an eye, yet at the same time at a slow and steady pace. You spent most of your time working anyway, but still kept in touch with the seven siblings you’d grown to love.

Some in different ways than others.

“Uncle Five, you’re always more excited than me to see Aunt Y/N,” Gracie waved him off, making you burst out laughing, “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you anyway.”

“What is a good look on him anyway?” You smirked, making the little girl laugh, as Five swept her into his arms;

“Okay, munchkin, it’s your birthday today, but tomorrow I’m going back to bullying you,” He joked, causing you both to laugh, before the two shared a hug before you, “You’re lucky your gift has no return policy.”

The party had already started by the time you made it there. The playground was huddled by other kids around Grace’s age, along with their parents. The music was playing loudly over the laughter of children and you were pretty sure that most of the family had already arrived. It was not the most ideal gathering, but you tried your best to keep in touch with most of the family to your best capabilities.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it!” Luther smiled, appearing from the crowd of guests, immediately giving you a big hug as his niece was still wrapped around Five, “Haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving!”

“Big shot lawyer doesn’t always have the time to stay in touch with family, huh?” Diego teased you, following suit, as you rolled your eyes, dropping off his daughter’s gift in his hands.

“Big shot delivery driver doesn’t know the phone works both ways, huh?” You smirked, putting your hands on your hips.

Diego laughed out loud as he gave you a hug, always in the mood for a back and forth short banter with you. After all, you truly were family, even if you didn’t always have the time to be present in the Hargreeves’ day to day lives. You may have met them in the original timeline in 2019, when you accidentally time traveled with your former partner at the Commission, Five, but after all you’ve been through, you didn’t need to have grown up together or be blood related to be considered that. And you truly were grateful for each and every single one of them, in spite of the many differences over the years.

After everything that’s happened six years ago at Hotel Oblivion, everyone went their separate ways. Allison was back with her daughter while trying to further her acting career and also help Klaus stay on the sober line, Viktor had moved to Canada where he opened a bar, Diego and Lila had three kids, Luther was “professionally dancing”, Ben had some run-ins with the law and Five, ironically enough, was working for the CIA.

“Well, you two are as annoying as always,” Ben told you and his brother, making Diego roll his eyes as he walked towards the gift table to set down your present.

“Please try to stay out of prison at least for the remainder of the year,” You joked with the man, making him roll his eyes as he hugged you loosely, “There’s only so much favors I could owe the DA.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben groaned, “I don’t even know why they let you work at the law firm since you still look like a prepubescent with no boobs. Even Five got a growth spurt.”

“I sized up to B recently, thank you very much,” You nudged his shoulder, before placing your hands on your chest in an offended manner.

“Okay, Gracie, not a conversation you’d wanna hear,” Five spoke up, putting his niece down, “Your aunt needs to learn some etiquette on how to act around children.”

“Funny coming from you,” You couldn’t help but wave him off.

You didn’t come in with Five at the party, but as fate had it, you did run into him as you were parking your car. He had just gone out to his brother’s dusty van to bring inside some more cookies for the guests. You kept in touch with him as well, but not as often as you would have liked. It’s not all that serious, but given the fact that you were a lawyer still climbing your way to the top and him being a top notch CIA agent, you didn’t exactly have the time to hang out.

At least, not as much as you’d have liked.

Five was watching you with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and his hands in his pockets. He had the same look on his face as always when watching you. He had the same smile when he saw you in combat for the first time during your first mission for the Commission together, the same look in his eyes when you appeared for the first time in 2019 alongside him in your teen bodies. The same posture he had when he met you again in 1963 after months of not seeing each other.

He wore the same love on his face while looking at you when you and the siblings split up after the events at Oblivion.

And never once did you notice that.

Not once in these past six years you let your feelings surface.

“You know Grace is my niece too, right?” He couldn’t drop the small smile even if he wanted to.

“Since when are you such a family man?” You raised a brow, trying to keep a confident composure.

“Oh, something changed in me between the first and third time I traded the world for my siblings,” He lightly shrugged his shoulders, making you roll your eyes at the sarcastic remark.

You two never changed.

“Please, I was there for the twins birth,” You waved him off.

You rarely see Five, and even when you do you always try to act normal, as you do around the rest of the Hargreeves. Everyone tried to get you two together at first, since the apocalypse was over and there was no reason for you to not get together, right?

You really wished it was that easy. In hindsight, maybe it was. But you couldn’t take any chances in losing Five forever if something were to go wrong. Maybe some would see it as something stupid, or as if you wasted so many years, but to you- mentally, you were almost seventy, while physically nineteen. You had so much time ahead of you now, all that mattered was to get a stable career first.

Five let a chuckle escape, shaking his head in disbelief, as he looked at the floor for a couple of seconds. When he looked back at you, you tried to keep your composure. You couldn’t help but feel pathetic that after all these years, your heart still skipped a beat whenever he’d look at you.

“You’re doing that thing again where you forget that some other people are still around, guys,” Luther raised his hand, grabbing your attention once again.

“I got bored of watching seventy year old virgins,” Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I’m gonna go get shitfaced.”

“Always a delight seeing you, Benjamin,” Five said, as Luther followed the ex-tentacle boy suit to make re he was not about to actually get drunk;

“This is a six year old’s birthday party!”

You giggled, watching the two brothers speed away while arguing amongst the kids in the crowd. When your eyes laid back on Five, who was intently watching you, you couldn’t help but feel a small blush creep its way in your cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Hargreeves.”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“Fuck you.”

“Why?”

You watched him dumbfounded for a couple of seconds because of the only answer he could come up with, before walking away, hoping he would follow you.

When he did try to keep up with you, you looked away to hide the proud smile. Even after all these years, things were still the same with him. He was still so eager to spend time with you, he was still smiling at you and entertaining your conversation.

“Aunt Y/N, Uncle Five, come play in the ball pit!” Gracie ushered you from afar, already tucked in the plastic colorful balls.

“You heard the birthday girl!” You smiled, grabbing his hand to drag Five after you.

Even after all these years he would instantly lock his fingers with yours.

[meiieiri]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: in which toji notices how you color-code your outfit every time you see each other…and promptly makes a game out of it in hopes it will cure his gambling addiction.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: colors | outfit inspos | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: 18+, suggestive themes at the end (explicit sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation), but otherwise, just a fluffy/semi-angst/semi-crack scenario of a lovestruck toji trying to cure his gambling addiction~~

Chewing on his pen, Toji’s fangs were beginning to hurt as he stares at the blank face of a random receipt he found in his mostly empty wallet. He seems to be deep in thought, he almost looks like he’s trying his best to crack a mathematical mystery except…he doesn’t give a shit about math and the only mystery he seems to be interested in cracking is…

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late!”

“Fuck.”

There you were in all your radiant magnificence eagerly waving to him from the university gates with your signature gummy smile he’s grown to love so much. You looked so beautiful and happy today…and you were wearing purple. A purple floral wrap dress. He was so sure you were gonna be wearing pink today Toji crosses out today’s date and the word: pink next to it with a frustrated “X”.

And in case anyone was wondering, this little guess-the-color-his-girlfriend-is-wearing-today game is something he came up with on a whim one day while waiting to pick you up after class. Of all the misfortune that has befallen him in his life, he has to thank the Zenin clan for one thing: sparing him the trouble of having to sit through an entire day of brain-frying university lectures about Kant’s second law of physics.

He hurriedly buries the receipt in his back pocket as he crosses the street, closing the twenty-five meter gap between the two of you. Pressing his lips against yours, Toji hums appreciatively when he tastes his favorite strawberry-flavored lip tint on your Cupid’s bow. You giggle as you nuzzle his nose when he pulls away, your hot breaths against one another’s lips providing a sense of comfort to you both. “What were you saying a while ago?”

“Ah, nothing.” Toji places a protective hand around your waist as the two of you walk to the nearby park for your and his usual after class/work stroll. “Just the usual profanity.”

Your lips curl into a soft pout at the thought of your boyfriend being upset about something. “Why?”

“Nothing babe,” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders. “Just lost at the boat races again,” he easily comes up with a white lie — a white lie that is bound to make you sad. He knows how upset you get when he relapses into his gambling addiction which, in his defense, he really is trying to quit for his and your — mostly your — sake. “Ah, I’ll do better, squirt. ‘m sorry.”

“Please?” you plead with him softly to which he nods, softly pinching your cheek in a silent promise to try to limit his gambling to…

…Getting tomorrow’s color right.

The next day, Toji spends about fifteen minutes in the shower trying to figure out what color you’d be wearing today. He’s already ruled out the possibility of you wearing black since it’s thirty degrees outside today, but with your extensive wardrobe, crossing out one color from the list is hardly enough to narrow it down. He’s never felt like this with boat races before since he has this natural tendency to just pick the boat with the most stable engine.

Ah, who was he kidding? He’ll just have to guess…and hope for the best, he steps out of the shower a few minutes of deliberation later.

After putting on a black shirt, he looks at his makeshift gambling ticket on the kitchenette counter with an angry look on his face. “Red. It has to be red.” He jots it down next to today’s date in red ink as if to manifest you’ll wear your off-shoulder red top today and those black trousers you bought from that thrift store in Harajuku last week.

Suddenly, a knock rips through the silence of his apartment and he goes to immediately answer the door. Toji clasps his hand around the doorknob for a bit, somehow still intent on delaying the inevitable. “Toji? The bags are getting kinda heavy,” you sheepishly called from the other side of the door and your boyfriend instantly snaps out of it. He swings the door open a little too aggressively that it makes you jump a bit when you hear the ear-splitting screech of the hinges nearly coming off the door. “Ah…hi, babe?”

You don’t know what to make of Toji’s face.

It’s like he’s feeling an odd mix of emotions all piled into one that they somehow cancelled each other out and now, he’s…staring at you…blankly. You have to admit, it looks a little funny. It’s not his usual stoic expression, it’s just pure…nothingness…like he caught a glimpse of the void or something and he can’t peel his eyes away from it.

“Can I come in—?”

“—Hi.”

“Eh?”

You burst out laughing at his delayed response. It’s like your boyfriend buffered for a full minute there which is so unlike him, considering he’s always so smoothly unbothered and suave in his demeanor. Toji scowls when you place a hand over his forehead. “You feeling okay?”

Toji gently shrugs your hand away, nodding absentmindedly. “Fine.” That sounded awfully peachy but you didn’t mind, Toji’s normally so awkward anyway, unbeknownst to most. In the eyes of those who don’t know him, Toji’s image is nothing short of a big, bad delinquent, but in your eyes, you mostly associate him with a typical house cat — quiet and snooty in every regard but actually genuinely affectionate. “Oh, let me help you with those.” He crouches down to help you with the groceries, sneakily stealing a kiss from you as you remove your shoes at the genkan before stepping into the living room.

Toji watches as you bound over to his apartment’s balcony, searching for the stray cat that normally drops by in the afternoon, with a grimace on his face.

“Of course she’s wearing beige,” he grumbles under his breath. Again, he crosses out today’s entry a little more forcefully this time.

At the balcony, you find Toji’s pet emeritus lounging away at the foot of the laundry rack. “Oh, there you are!” You crouch down and pet the white cat whom Toji affectionately refers to as ‘Yuki’ when he thinks you aren’t listening in whenever he feeds it after dinner. “You look like you could use a warm bath, come on!” You gently pick up the little creature and bring her inside. “Toji, I found Yuki~!”

You stop in your tracks when you see Toji with his forehead pressed to the cold marble counter causing you to instinctively place a comfort hand on his upper back to placate him while Yuki climbs atop the counter. At the familiarness of your touch, Toji, who looks like he’s still upset over some unknown thing he won’t tell you, rights his posture. What’s a man gotta do to get a winning streak around here?

“Hey, maybe you should lie down…”

“…I’m okay,” Toji half-whimpers, defeated, gaping at Yuki as she licks her paw contentedly. “Huh. You brought the fleabag in here?”

Somehow offended by that, Yuki violently hisses at him.

Okay, something is seriously wrong with Toji.

You just came out from using the washroom to see Toji on the kotatsu agitatedly scribbling on a piece of paper that doesn’t exactly look like a betting stub. You surmised it would have been something like that since Toji doesn’t normally get angry over anything except losing money on bets, but you are thoroughly surprised and comforted to see that wasn’t the case this time around. You sit down next to him, pulling your big baby into an embrace.

“My poor baby,” you teased amid Toji’s obvious misery. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you smiled softly when he playfully pushes you down onto the tatami mats, all his weight pinning you down, his hand easily overwhelming yours as he pins them above your head. You try to squirm away from him, laughing when his other hand secures your hip to the floor, rendering you unable to struggle against him. Then, he lowers his lips close to your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps to appear all over your skin, he sighs, falling slack at the crook of your neck.

Toji hates this, he probably looks like a kicked dog right now.

Today’s bet was yellow but when you opened the door to your apartment, you were wearing a mint green sweater over your cream relaxed fit ankle pants.

“Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I just win for once?” Toji’s voice is muffled as he buries his face in your shoulder. Instantly, you feel a pit form in your stomach. You’ve heard this before. You slowly push him off of you, your disappointment palpable in the way you utter your next words.

“Toji, you’ve been…gambling again, haven’t you? Baby, we talked about this.”

Your lover steadies the movements of his chest, feeling the need to defend himself. He wasn’t gambling, quite the contrary really, the thought of wandering over to the horse races hasn’t crossed his mind since he started this harmless little game. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and every so often, he relapses into these undertones of his gambling addiction particularly the crippling desire to win at least once, to guess just one daily color scheme right.

And he’ll let it go. He swears he’ll let it go.

“I know, but really, babe, I’m not—“

“—Really? Then, what’s this?” You shakily point to the folded up piece of paper on the kotatsu. He has to pinch himself to hold in his laughter when he sees just how cutely distressed you are over an unassuming crepe stall receipt. “Don’t you start laughing now!” You swat his arm.

“I’m not laughing, you brat!” Toji purses his lips together, thoroughly enamored by you right now. “You’re worrying over nothing, Y/N. Trust me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you. You cheeky little brat. “But you’re acting so weird though…” You poke him relentlessly on the cheek to get him to come clean, and you dodge whenever he tries to playfully catch your index finger with his teeth. “Just tell me.”

“Nope.”

You climb onto his lap, hugging him.

“Please.”

A kiss is a good bribe right?

“Uh-uh.”

He returns the kiss with a loud smooch!

“I’ll break up with you.”

You whine when he flicks your forehead, leaving an obvious red mark on it.

“You won’t.”

Your little back and forth is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sighing, you finally let go of him. Looks like he isn’t going to budge. Toji gets up to answer the door, setting you down on the cushioned seat. Feeling a little bad when he glances back to see you still sulking about the issue, he subtly and intentionally allows the receipt to fall from his pocket knowing you’ll almost certainly go straight for it. He’ll just have to deal with your constant teasing for the next two weeks once you read the contents of the slip of paper. But he’d rather hear you laughing your heart out (even if it’s at his expense) than see you getting all anxious about him slipping back into his old destructive hobbies.

When you see the piece of paper falling like a leaf dancing in the wind, your eyes light up, and you crawl over to the spot where it’s fallen near the small bookshelf you have in the corner.

“Rakuten delivery.” Toji signs the courier’s clipboard, receiving your package. Just as he’s about to walk back into the living room to hand you your parcel, he stops in his tracks when he hears your cute chortles which you’re pathetically trying to subdue and a smirk appears on the corner of Toji’s lips.

Looks like the crisis has been averted for now.

“Wait, Toji…”

Toji pretends to not hear you, his fingers still buried in your sopping cunt, lusciously pushing in and out, your arousal coating his fingertips as he devours your lips in wanton need. You moan out his name again and he scowls when you reluctantly remove his fingers from your heat. “What? What is it?” What could possibly be so important?

You flush when he sensually licks his fingers clean, and you sit up, pulling down your skater skirt. “What’s an anniversary without a little surprise?” You kissed him on the lips, lingering for a bit, your eyes fluttering close as you taste your arousal on his tongue. “Mmh…”

“Just forget it.” Toji bucks his hips against yours, his clothed erection rubbing against your bare slit.

“No way. Just…wait here,” you kiss him again, boldly running your tongue over his bottom lip before pulling away and heading to the bathroom to get your surprise ready.

Toji groans in frustration, his head hitting the pillows he set down on the futon. After a few restless moments of him resisting the urge to fuck his hardened cock into his hand to finish himself off, he hears your melodious voice calling for him from down the hall.

A satisfied lopsided smirk appears on Toji’s lips, his eyes dark as he gazes at the most beautiful being in the world right now, shyly making her way towards him wearing nothing but an emerald silk robe. He licks his lips when he sees the outline of your nipples through the fabric, smirking as you sit down on the foot of the futon.

“All that for a silly little robe? What a letdown,” Toji smirks as he moves to untie the knot of your robe, only for you to slap his hand away.

“Uh-uh…you have to guess first.”

Toji gulps when you pull out the one thing he’s been agonizing over for the last few weeks from your robe’s hidden pocket. You grab a pen from the nearby bookshelf which he expertly catches when you throw it in his direction alongside the crumpled up piece of paper he’d been meaning to destroy for a while now.

“If you guess right, we could ditch the condom tonight. So do well,” you innocently bat your eyelashes at him.

Toji looks like he wants to jump off a ditch, the obvious tent in his sweatpants indicating just how hard he is right now. “No, don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this, Y/N…”

“…What color am I wearing tonight?”

[supernovasilence]

Ok we all talk about the Pevensies' trauma at returning to Earth at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and their trouble readjusting to life there again but think of all the funny/good parts too

They return from the country, and their mom is surprised when all her children hug her at the station. Even Peter, who thinks he's all grown up. Even Edmund, who went away surly and withdrawn. She doesn't know her children haven't seen her in over a decade.

They miss their dear Cair Paravel, but they absolutely do not miss its chamber pots. Indoor plumbing is amazing.

It takes a while to remember how modern technology works, though. How many heart attacks did the siblings give their parents or the professor because they walked into a dark room only to turn on the light and find the children sitting there in the dark. (They were by the window! There was still plenty of light from the sunset! They would have gotten a candle in a minute!) The kids sheepishly remember oh yeah electricity is a thing.

(Edmund has a new electric torch in Prince Caspian. He was so excited to get that torch. Almost more excited than you'd think a kid his age would be, and his parents expect Peter at least to tease him, but the siblings all agree light in your hand at the touch of a switch is terrific.)

Suddenly getting really high grades in some subjects and terrible in others. Their grammar, reading comprehension, spelling, vocab, even penmanship? Amazing. History and geography? They don't remember anything. One time in class Susan forgets Earth is round and wants to die.

Also they can never remember what the date is supposed to be because Narnia uses different months and years. They can estimate time really well by looking at the sun though, and Edmund at least can always tell which way is north etc without thinking about it (again, using the sun)

Okay but how many times did they go to pick something up or reach something and realize they are so much shorter and less muscled than they expect? It's a common sight to see Peter climbing on counters to reach a top cabinet, grumbling about how he's High King this is demeaning. (No he never takes the extra five seconds to grab a stool. He will climb that shelf.)

Peter and Susan being delighted because they are no longer almost thirty. (In a few years Edmund and Lucy will tease them about being old and their parents will not understand.)

Lucy doesn't have to deal with periods anymore for a few years yet. Susan might not either. Heck yeah

Lucy loves to climb into her siblings' laps and be cuddled. In Narnia she eventually she grew too big, but now she is small and snuggleable again. Peter is her favorite, and if she's upset, he'll tickle her and tell bad jokes until she's smiling again, but really she loves cuddling with all her family. She grew up without her parents; how many times did she just want to crawl into her mom's lap and her mom was a world away? Imagine the first time she realizes she can now. Or, imagine one day, a cold and grey sort of day, when the rain is pattering against the windows, and it sounds like the rain on the windows of the Professor's house, that first day they went exploring. It sounds like the day they played hide and seek. It sounds so like the rain on the windows of Cair Paravel, that if Lucy closes her eyes she can imagine she's back there, having tea and chatting with Mr. Tumnus before the fireplace of her room, and soon the rain will stop, and they will go out on the balcony and wave to the naiads and the dryads and the mermaids, who have come out to enjoy the rain and visit one other on the banks of the Great River winding past Cair Paravel down to the sea.

But if Lucy looks out the window, all she'll see is the rain over London, so it's not only a cold and grey sort of day, it's a lonely sort of day too.

Susan and Edmund are playing chess in the living room (and they must have studied with Professor Kirke, thinks their mother, because they certainly weren't that good when they left). Lucy goes over to Edmund, and oh dear, thinks their mother, now he's going to call her a baby and be horrible to her, but instead he picks her up and puts her on his lap without even taking his eyes off the chessboard; it's simply a matter of course.

"Doesn't the rain sound familiar?" says Lucy in a solemn, wistful way.

Their mother doesn't know what that means, but her siblings must, because Susan says, "Yes, Lu, it does,” and Edmund gives her a little hug with his free arm as she tucks herself under his chin to watch the chess match.

(Five minutes later there is a crash from the next room as Peter falls off a counter. Their mother does not understand the words he must have picked up from the Professor, but he's grounded for them anyway. His siblings have no respect for their High King, because they refuse to stop laughing.)

[rinawantstosleep]

𖹭༉‧°𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

bf satoru x fem single mom reader

wc: 1.1k

— a pair of troublemakers residing in your house; both of whom are (unintentionally!) dead-set on making themselves the death of you.

"I don't like your stupid, white hair." 

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does." 

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable. 

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!" 

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made. 

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that." 

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts. 

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious." 

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.  

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?" 

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other? 

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Cue a tiny gasp. 

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?" 

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe." 

. . . 

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Atta girl. Now, you go to that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

with 𖹭, rina !!

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)