#i am SHAKING in the best way possible!!!
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fala-alfredo-pasta · 2 years ago
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Hello, my friend Zhui from the Komaegi group chat is a big fan of your art, and drew fan art of the outfit designs from your Komaegi Week day 1 piece. Zhui's Lofter ID is zhui221137, and also has an Instagram account, forget_zhui. (Zhui didn't post this work on any platforms.)
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oh my gosh ohmy gosh oh MY GOSH!!!!!!! AHHHH!!!!! PLS PLS PLS TELL THEM THEY ARE MORE THAN ALLOWED TO POST THIS WHEREVER BECAUSE IT'S BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT SO SOO SOOOOOOOO MUCH!!!
💚🥺💚🥺💚
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basketobread · 1 year ago
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I KNOW SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE TOLD YOU THIS AND WE WILL SAY IT A MILLION MORE TIMES- YOUR ART IS LIKE. MY FAVOURITE THING EVER. YOU GOT ME OUT OF ARTBLOCK. I OPEN TMBLR TO SEE IF THE MOST AMAZING BEAUTIFUL DELICIOUS BLOG EVER POSTED SOMETHING. THANK YOU BOB. YOUR ART PUTS ME IN SUCH A GOOD MOOD 😭 ALSO, TO ADD TO YOUR BOB LIST! NOT ONLY ARE YOU SPONGEBOB AND BOB THE BUILDER, YOU GIVE MAD ANIMAL CROSSING BOB VIBES. OKAY. THAT WAS MY RAMBLE. WE LOVE YOU BOB <333333
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ME RIGHT NOW!!!!!! ME RIGHT NOW AS WE SPEAK!!!!!!! OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭
NO NO NO, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW SWEET YOUR MESSAGE IS!!!! EVERY SINGLE MESSAGE I GET MEANS SO MUCH TO ME. YOUR KIND WORDS ARE NOT JUST SOMETHING THAT OTHER PEOPLE HAVE SAID... THEY COME FROM YOU!!! AND I LOVE THAT!!!! AND IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!!
and oh my gosh ALSO??? my art GOT YOU OUT OF ART BLOCK?? GRAAHHH?!?!?!? IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT!!!! I HOPE YOU CONTINUE TO DRAW ALONG WITH ME AND ALL THE OTHER ARTISTS HERE!!! ❤❤❤❤
JEEZ this was SOOO sweet THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! REALLY!!! I TRULY MEAN IT!!!! have an AMAZING night!!! or day!!! idk the time for you but HAVE AN AMAZING TIME!!! ❤❤❤❤❤
(also OMFG i LOOOOOVE animal crossing and bob has ALWAYS been one of my favs HAHA i am SOOO glad to give off his vibes)
(OH ALSO EDIT: I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO!!! I LOVE U LOTS ANON!!)
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celestial-toys · 9 months ago
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been laying here listening to Lucky by Dermot Kennedy on loop for half an hour while thinking about Everything Stays and crying
#it’s good crying dw i am just. i have so many feelings about this story#Seven’s Celestial Commentary#Everything Stays#writing stuff#i may be stuck in bed struggling to type due to personal reasons but that will Not stop me from cooking up ideas for this fic#there is gonna be so much fucking angst and it’s gonna hurt soooooo good#the more i listen to it the more the possibilities expand#i can easily see Moon and Reader going back and forth between verses vulnerably arguing over Sun#but i can also see it being Sun and Moon getting real and discussingcougharguingover Reader#can’t decide which i like more#god i wish y’all could see this story the way it plays out in my head#next best thing would be to keep writing and sharing the story instead of vagueposting abt future plot points tho wouldn’t it lmao#and GOD don’t even get me fucking STARTED on Two Hearts…#Dermot Kennedy’s music is responsible for yet Another plot point for this story and i can’t even be mad about it. his fucking lyricsss dude#‘and so we jump to the THEATER??? in that SAME OLD TOWN???’ DO WE? FUCK I GUESS WE DO NOW!!!#picture me listening to that song and inspiration hitting me like a truck. diligently taking notes like the lyrics r instructions from God#‘she sees his face?? and HE sees HER as the LIGHTS GO DOWN???’ write that down write that down#‘the life that they should’ve had sat between them that night??’ FUCK Man yeah it sure did!!!#anyways it’s chill i’m chill. i’m very normal about my little stories and their musical inspirations!#and i’ve listened to these songs a very normal amount (translation: they will likely be in my top ten for the 2024 wrapped)#(cut to the scenes playing vividly in my head) ‘Well‚ at least I can always say that I /told/ her!’#‘I can’t relate to having a heart like that‚ Sun! With all of your wonder and your trust intact…’#like no i wouldn’t lift the lyrics directly for the song to use as dialogue but FUCk does it work well.. Lucky is such a good script for-#like- a heated conversation between my Relentlessly Positive Sun and my Apathetic Jaded Moon#‘How could our farewell mean as much as our time? Honey‚ I’ll be gone. It’s better if I’m something that you leave behind.’#‘I used to paint these trees‚ now I just scream at the sky. Honey I was wrong. Guess there’s certain things you never leave behind.’#*sobbing shaking throwing up clawing at the walls* I Am Normal About These Characters#anyways uh. on an unrelated note how many song lyrics do ya think i can cram into ES before it’s Too Many#gonna have to start getting creative with how i can incorporate more songs in a way that feels natural and not forced#even tho i am forcing it. i am forcing it very much bc i have songs with applicable lyrics and y’all Will read them one way or another
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dreadfuldevotee · 1 year ago
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i am just...so profoundly tired of being me
#char.txt#there is something that is so revolting about me I am incapable of shaking the shame of it#Theres nothing i can do to make myself happy its just not possible i think i have to accept that#but im tired of pretending for other people its so stupid#everything feels fake even when im being honest i dont know who this person is anymore#its just stupid idk im thinking about too many things#my life feels like it exists for other peoples entertainment and if im not interesting im failing and im wasting peoples time and energy#but i can't be alone anymore I legitimately cannot be alone anymore ive tried so hard it only makes things worse#I need to feel wanted and maybe its something im missing thats keeping me from feeling that way#but I feel so deeply that when i stop being funny or when the person ppl actually want to talk to comes around ill stop being relevant#i dont exist to people when im not infront of them and...idk i have to be okay with that because im never anything more#and like this genuinely isnt a dig because there are people who I am friends with who have access to see this and I don't want you to feel#like its something youve done cause its not your fault its kind of not even about any of you or the ppl wholl never see this#Its something im missing its something about me and i dont deserve cruelty ik that#but i can't make anyone want me more than they do and thats alright#i just know that ill always be second fiddle at best and it just exausts me sometime#its be easier if I liked me but I wouldnt wish my presence upon anyone#but im selfish and i need the attention or ill actually self destruct so here we are this is my boulder
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cecinderal · 2 years ago
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Stealing you as a mutual
aaAAH OMFG YOU HAVE NK IDEA HOW LOUD I ALMOST SCREAMED
i’ve been following you for a super long time from a diff account and i look up to your work so much😭😭 you’re literally so cool and and and
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starpros-sunshine · 1 year ago
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If I loved Wataei less I might be able to talk about them more....
#You know what I also like. Jane Austens Pride and Prejudice (knows that's a quote from Emma)#Gosh I really need to read Emma#Been meaning to but I've just been chipping away at mansfield park because it is so long#and personally I find it rather tedious to read because...Well let's just say I'm not very partial to people marrying their cousins#I am aware it was not strange in ye olden days but it's one of those modern biases I can't really shake off#but I can live with it it's just something that makes me do a little displeased frown because honestly#that's the best match the poor girl could've gotten in that book there were no better options at least the guy wasn't a complete moron#as far as I can gage at least#but I guess that's my fault for starting with Pride and Prejudice I found my Austen otp in Elizabeth and Darcy I just think they're really#really neat#I originally got into Jane Austen because I have a classmate or well I guess friend would be a fitting term too although we don't really#talk outside of a school setting or outside of the group but I don't really talk to anyone outside of the group or school anyways so#might as well just call her a friend#but yes she is very into Jane Austen she's such an anglophile in the best way possible it's very endearing she can tell you a lot about tea#and such#but back to topic I got into the books because she liked them and we share an english class where we're the only ones from our little bubbl#so naturally that sparks conversation and what to talk about when two people who are into english novels if not english novels#I got her to read Sherlock Holmes and she still like Agatha Christie better#but I was very happy about that because I really like Sherlock Holmes#she's much more patient than some of my other friends if that's the right word so that makes talking easier#it's not fun when you can tell your conversation partner doesn't really care#so now I'm still trying to get through all the Auste novels I'm doing a terribly poor job at it#been at it since January how many have I managed to finish? two.#I'm listening to the audiobooks and listening to engllish can be very tiring and the lady that narrates has a very nice voice so sometimes#I fall asleep and lose the point where I was so then I have to start the entire chapter again and it's a whole thing really#but where were we ah yes Wataei#I love them I really do it's such a shame I wish I could articulate it and put it into words#but instead I have this feelings soup#oh for shame what a horrible horrible world to live in#I missed rambling in my tags I think if I'm too scared to post something I'll just put it aaaaaalll in my tags again
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sick-as-a-dog · 2 years ago
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#just the thought of him not loving me the same way and amount i love him makes me want to slice myself up#ill only stop cutting when i cant feel anything anymore not pain not love just emptiness#just want to be with master but dont want to make him stressed out because im too dependent and reliant on him#why cant i just feel my emotions the right way or a normal amount or at least less strong? why am i like this?#why cant i love like a human and why must that shit be so complicated? why am i so feralminded?#and why cant i feel my loves separately? should i even? or am i not understanding it right? why do i feel everything wrong?#why must i love him like a wild animal loves its lifelong mate? but also like how that animal loves the taste of prey and hungers for it?#like a dog loves its master and feels the unending loyalty and unconditional love overtake remaining wolflike instinct#like a best friend i also wish to do stereotypical romantic and domestic things with and so much more#i want to be bound to him in any way possible marriage and collars and microchips and blood pacts and marking and such#but im so scared he wont want that anymore i want to stop feeling i need to completely stop feeling and worrying but i cant#even when im emotionally numb i still feel that canine love for him even if just a glimmer#i wish i knew what he thinks love is and what hes comfortable with and how he felt and experienced love and if he still loves me like#he did before he came out as aro....im scared to bring up how calling himself aro and me his exception actually hurts and idk if i should#tbh him saying hes aro yet says he loves me feels like when a close friend keeps saying they dont have any friends while youre right there#like my existence makes his identity a lie or a betrayal to him i cant shake the gross feeling that hes forcing himself to stay for my sake#....hell am i even his exception anymore? what did he mean by same amount but not the same? what changed? did anything actually change?#wish i could figure out what love is and how to feel it right..esp dont understand romantic or queerplatonic or anything its all confusing#i want to take on the world with him and stop being an emotional wreck so we can fuck anyone together like we swore to#i just want to live the rest of my life by his side and i want to experience all we can together#picnics and movies and living together and sharing a nest and....idk i just want to be with him forever and hope he still feels the same#it would literally kill me if he ever left or fell out of love i think i would lose whats left of my mind and end up bleeding myself dry#i want us to be together forever and never ever stop being mates but i cant help but be terrified and confused and hurt
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murobrown · 1 year ago
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#hello friends I just took ventolin and I am having a panic attack and possibly dying#my heart will soon pop up from my chest#and my whole body is shaking and shivering#so I am looking for some way to distract myself and not to hyoerfocus on my bodily functions#it should be a normal side effect but I never experienced it before so I'm freaking out#how are you all doing? i really hope that everyone is happy and healthy and safe#if not I'm sending all the best things your way#like tomorrow will be the best day of your life...i promise... I'm sure you will feel better tomorrow#whatever is worrying you right now will go away and you will be happy#we will all be okay#everything will be okay#I'm not dying#i really don't want to die#I wanted to die for many years and even did some stupid things but now I'm so grateful to be here#i love my life now and I'm so scared that I'll die and lose everything#because usually when you think you're doing great the universe is preparing something disastrous for you#...so thay you don't stay happy for too long#I'm trying to breathe deep but I feel like it makes my chest hurt more#and I'm so scared to sleep because I don't want to die in my sleep i want to have everything under control if I need help#but I'll be okay... I'll get through this it's just nothing#do you guys have any plans for the summer?#do you remember being at school and having two months holiday without any responsibilities#honestly I don't think I miss it...maybe I prefer to work and have just few weeks off#it's just too much free time for me#now I feel like my body is burning#and I feel my neck pulsating#like I feel my heartbeat in my head#my smart watch is saying that everything is in normal numbers but what of they're inaccurate#I'm losing control of my thoughts so back to getting distracted#maybe I'll try to lay down and sleep
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arolesbianism · 6 months ago
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Y'know I know I've said like a billion times I don't want to know shit abt Jackie's past but erm. Hi klei. Please just tell me if Josephine and Alan are her parents or some miscellaneous relative this is so important. Did Jackie seriously come from a household with a colonel and another person with a doctorate or does she just happen to be related to them this is so important for how I decide to move forward with my Jackie hcs and with my aus in general I need to know so bad tell me right fucking now
#rat rambles#oni posting#dude I was so sure that I didnt want to know anything abt Jackie's family situation but now I sure as hell fucking do#also if they are her parents then that'd mean she'd have a sibling named jonathan. and god of fucking course she would#my version of a jackie brother may be off in the wind but I would love a new one that she actually gets to have met this time#also to be clear the doctorate + colonel parent situation that Im desperate to know if I can act on is so perfect for jackie#like oh yeah of fucking course shed be a military kid why didnt I think of that first#back in my original hcs she had a brother who was an adult when she was born and was a part of the army#so in my minds eye this adds up perfectly and would to me explain a lot abt her#also the idea that j names run in the family is so fucking stupid I love it#also the fact that her maybe brother named their child after her is making me sick dont do that no child deserves that </3#the fact that its a middle name honestly makes it worse to me lol#god. god those 3 radio logs man. it makes me wonder so so hard#I doubt well get to fully know what happened there but if the colonel is her parent and theyre the same as the tragedy averted log mentions#then we suddenly have a situation in which the possibility of jackie having been involved in at best seriously threatening her parent or at#least relative's well saftey is a very real interpretation of these currently available logs#and I find that soooo fucking fascinating#now again that might not be the case as we just dont know enough#but as of now its a very real possibility and its one that excites me#the idea of jackie being willing to risk the life of a relative like that for the sake of sabotaging a rival and doing a publicity stunt#absolutely rules and I am in love with the concept go girlie go murder your maybe parent#also if I may discuss the timeline matters here shit is looking fucking wild#dude we now have an id that starts with x. like holy shit what the fuck#like there's a world where it's just a weird way of reacting it but like I genuinely dont know#could we be seeing some genuine late state gravitas shenanigans over here?#oh also we got another nikola mention lets goooo#also we have So many more rando names now and this is just with the logs we do have#we have the jackie relatives along with the inlaws mentioned in the same email ofc but we also have harold's son calvin and the x id#scientist I mentioned before b. boson#now boson actually is a potential dupe donor candidate considering we do in fact have a free b dupe to work with (<- is shaking violently)
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gregmarriage · 1 year ago
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how does one watch frailty (2002), and not have their entire brain chemistry changed? like, i’m sat here, head in my hands like 😵‍💫🫠🫨
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freedomfireflies · 5 months ago
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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!
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"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.
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~ 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
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flwrkid14 · 18 days ago
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Tim and Danny: Love, Trust, and the Weight of Protection
part 1
Danny knows what it's like to be hunted.
It’s been his reality for as long as he can remember—forever glancing over his shoulder, never truly at ease. Between vengeful ghosts, government agents, and countless other dangers, his survival has depended solely on his instincts, his powers, and the fickleness of luck. He has his friends—two best friends and a sister who would drop everything to stand by him, who he knows would always have his back. But the weight of that reliance feels heavy, a burden he can't quite shake.
Trusting others, truly leaning on them, has always felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford. He wants to feel safe, to let someone else take some of the weight, but the thought of putting them in danger because of him? That’s a risk he can't bring himself to take.
Then he meets Tim Drake.
At first, Tim’s protectiveness doesn’t faze him. It’s Gotham. You don’t date a Wayne-adjacent vigilante and expect anything less than a little paranoia. Danny’s been through worse. A tracker on his phone? Standard. Tim pulling files on his professors? Honestly, kind of funny.
But then, Danny finds out how deep it goes.
He stumbles upon a folder on Tim’s desk—his name printed neatly on the tab. Inside? Background checks on his classmates, neighbors and friends. Surveillance reports. A detailed map of his daily routine. Heart rate data. Sleeping patterns. Eating habits. There’s even a file on Phantom.
For a moment, Danny froze.
This should terrify him—it used to. Being watched, tracked for his every move, reminded him too much of those who hunted him, who’d wanted to tear him apart and dissect him like a lab rat. His first instinct was always to run.
But at that moment? He felt... safe. The notes in the margins weren’t cold or clinical like the ones his parents would have written. No, instead, they were worried. Make sure he’s eating enough. Possible threat? Keep an eye on this one. Look for ectoplasmic spikes—could mean trouble.
This wasn’t someone trying to control him. This was someone trying to protect him.
Tim’s not like the people who hunted him in Amity Park. There’s no malice in what he does. No intent to control or hurt. It’s all fear. Love, even. Danny can see it in Tim’s eyes when he stammers through an explanation, bracing himself for anger or rejection.
He’s scared Danny will leave.
And that’s what gets Danny.
No one has ever cared for him like this, no one willing to go through such lengths just to ensure his safety. Yeah, it’s intense, maybe unhealthy, even by the standards of a world that isn’t known for its normalcy. Danny knows Sam, Tucker, and Jazz would do the same—they’ve all put their lives on the line for him before, and he loves them for it. But Tim is different.
Tim is strong enough to face the dangers of Danny’s world and carry the weight of his burdens without hesitation. It’s something Danny could never ask his friends to do—not because they wouldn’t, but because they have their own lives, their own paths. They would drop everything for him, just as Tim would, but Tim does it with the resolve of a vigilante, already living a life where protecting others is his duty. This is someone who understands the risks, who’s already made those sacrifices, and still chooses to say, “I will protect you, no matter the cost.”
So, he smiles. He kisses Tim’s cheek. And he asks, “Can I put a tracker on you too?”
The way Tim’s eyes light up? Yeah, Danny thinks. This is love.
-----------------
The batfamily doesn’t get it.
They corner Danny one day, all serious expressions and careful words.
“Danny, we’re worried,” Dick starts, voice soft. “About Tim?” Danny tilts his head. “About both of you,” Steph says. “This… surveillance thing. It’s not normal.”
Danny shrugs. “Neither am I.”
They might understand—on some level. They’d lived through their own kind of danger, faced their own threats. But for Danny, it was different. They didn’t grow up being hunted, didn’t spend years hiding from people who wanted to tear them apart just for existing. For him, trusting the wrong person wasn’t just a risk; it was a matter of life and death.
Tim’s methods might be extreme, but Danny sees the intent behind them. It’s not control. It’s care. Tim watches his back because he knows what it’s like to lose people. Danny lets him because he knows what it’s like to be alone.
“Tim’s the first person who’s made me feel safe,” Danny tells them, voice steady. “You see obsession. I see someone who cares enough to watch my back.”
They don’t know what to say to that.
-----------------
Their relationship isn’t conventional. But in a city like Gotham, love isn’t always soft and simple. Sometimes, it’s vigilance. Sometimes, it’s knowing someone’s tracking your heartbeat because they’d die if it ever stopped.
Tim watches over Danny. Danny watches over Tim. It’s not about control—it’s about trust. About knowing that, no matter what, someone’s got your back.
The bats worry. They whisper about boundaries, red flags and healthy relationships.
Danny doesn’t listen. He knows what he’s got.
In a world where ghosts and vigilantes collide, where danger lurks in every shadow, Danny’s finally found someone who won’t let him face it alone.
And that? That’s everything.
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intromortal · 15 days ago
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BIRTHDAY BOY HOON IS VERY SORRY !
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pairing older!sunghoon x reader
word count 1.8k
warnings smut. mdni. more of my very poor attempts at daddy kink, hoon is in his 30's, reader doesn't have a specific age but is younger. no blr reader is not a minor. oral fem receiving, lots of pet names, praise.
nia note ! have this while i try to work on 8283 other things at the same time... and happy birthday to our fav prince
“I’m so sorry, little thing,” Sunghoon whispered against your temple, your precious heartbeat on his lips making his own stutter in his chest.
“I was worried.” You said. Softly, as if speaking any louder would make Sunghoon disappear into thin air.
Sunghoon’s heart clenched again, like it first did when he walked into the apartment and found it all decorated in big heart shaped balloons, a champagne bottle in a bucket of ice that had melted all the way, accompanying glasses and candles that looked like they had once been lit; all waiting for him. He had called your name all over the place until he found you laying in bed with your ruined makeup dried on your cheeks.
“I know baby, I’m sorry. Work stuff. You know.”
Of course you knew, you had gotten to know ever since you started dating Sunghoon. Dating someone older came with its perks, but he was always so busy. You liked to joke he’d end up dating his own job someday, but lately it had started to feel a lot less like a joke and more like reality.
“But it’s your birthday!” You pushed against his chest, yet it only made him hold you even tighter. You felt so delicate and precious in his embrace, and he noted how hard you were shaking, though he couldn't tell if it was all the emotion you were feeling or if you were cold in the pretty little dress you’d chosen to wear for the special occasion. He thought it might be both.
“It’s just a birthday, it’s–”
“Would you say that about mine too?” You looked up to him, big doe eyes that looked even more innocent with your lashes clumped together by the tears.
“It’s not the same thing, baby. Your–”
“Yes it is! You have to stop thinking you’re not as important as I am in this relationship.”
You were starting to sound more distraught by the second, and Sunghoon hated it. It pulled at his heartstrings in ways he had never experienced. You were so fragile in his mind, he was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. And yet here you were, hurt by none other than him. Sometimes despite the age difference and how he’s supposed to be the wiser, the one leading the relationship, he felt like you had his heart in your hands, ready to be squeezed for all it’s worth at your whim.
“I never really celebrated my birthday,” he said, looking anywhere but your eyes. “And I need to work, for us. For you. I want to take care of you as best as I can.”
“But I need my love too.” You took his face in your hands, and looked at him with such softness in your gaze Sunghoon felt like his soul might burst out of his body to get as close to yours as possible. “I need my boyfriend, and I want him to rest sometimes. And I want to be able to give him back at least ten percent of what he gives me. And I want to love him freely like he deserves and to know that he’s doing well. No distractions.” Your foreheads pressed together, lips touching lightly as tickling feathers as you whispered.
He chuckled. “Is my job a distraction now?”
“It is if it keeps you away from me more than necessary.”
“We really need the money though.”
“I love you, Park Sunghoon. Not your money.”
The air felt lighter, and Sunghoon felt like he could breathe again when he noticed the faint hint of a smile on your pretty face. That’s what he wanted to see all his life. No more frowns on your forehead, no more tears down your cheeks—unless it’s from how good you are feeling, that is.
You could tell he wanted to kiss you, but was hesitant in case you were still too upset. Like you could ever be too upset to kiss him. So you took the first step, and that’s all he needed. Sunghoon immediately melted against your lips, soft sighs of pleasure leaving him.
“Love you too, baby.” He pulled back the tiniest bit, just enough to look at you as he caressed your face with his thumb. “Missed you so much. Never wanna miss you like this again. I’m sorry.”
You glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, next to the chocolate you had bought to try for the night. That could wait another time.
“There’s still a little time to make up for it, birthday boy,” you said, placing soft pecks on Sunghoon’s face until you got him to smile. The smile that had made you fall head over heels for him so quickly, with the sharp canines and the faintest ghost of a dimple on his cheek. The smile that made him look so boyish even in his thirties.
You tried to get up, but he kept his hands on your waist, leaving you unable to move.
“What does my pretty girl think she’s doing?”
“Want to make you feel good…”
“Mhh, is that so?”
You nodded shyly, feeling exposed under his gaze even if completely covered, a different intensity to it, one you knew very well, yet one that still left you breathless every time.
“Then lay back for daddy and let him do the work, mmkay?”
You tried to protest, feeling it was unfair since it was still his birthday after all. But Sunghoon ignored any complaint and immediately slid his hands down to the hem of your dress. He bunched the fabric up at your waist, revealing your bare cunt to the air.
“No panties? My baby is so naughty.”
“‘s for you,” you gasped, two his fingers dragging up and down your slit mid sentence.
“Of course it is, all for me mhh.” He collected your juices, spreading them all over your pussy as he worked on it, getting you all nice and ready for him.
“So so naughty,” he murmured. “Look at how wet you are getting baby, it’s dripping down my wrist.” He raised his hand to prove the point, the cuff of his work shirt spotting a wet patch. “Daddy makes your pretty princess parts this wet? You’re so, so good.”
Sunghoon lowered on the bed, his strong arms grabbing your thighs and dragging you towards his face, his cock that had started stiffening up in his pants twitching at your little yelp of surprise. You were just so cute, it made him so horny. So cute and adorable, all for him to eat up.
He nuzzled his face right into your heat, inhaling your scent. Embarrassed, you tried to close your legs, but it was all futile.
“You wanna hide this from me?” he said, looking up at you from between your legs before drawing a long fat stripe with his tongue, from your fluttering hole to your clit. He hummed at the taste, dipping down right away for seconds. And thirds.
“Missed this pussy, so fucking much. It’s all I could think about at work. Made daddy’s cock so hard.” He ran his tongue all over your cunt, not leaving a single inch unexplored.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he spoke against your heat, mouthful of your juices muffling the sound as he refused to relent. “Will make it up to you, I promise.”
He swiped his tongue over your clit, repeating the action when you let out a louder moan, alternating from side to side flicks to light sucks, his cheeks hollowing with the motion.
You looked down between your legs, the sight of the older man so focused on pleasuring you sending electricity jolts down your spine, unable to stop your hips from bucking desperately against his firm hands.
Sunghoon seemed to get the hint, lowering his mouth down to your hole that was fluttering around nothing and desperate for any attention. He gave it a few kitten licks before shoving his tongue in as far as he could, massaging your warm insides in all the right ways. His nose made contact with your clit every time he pushed his tongue far inside you, providing all the stimulation you needed as you lifted your hips to grind against his face. Sunghoon looked up to you, his eyes so glazed over with pleasure one might think he was the one getting tongue fucked so passionately, his bangs sticking to his forehead, wrinkled in concentration. His fingers were digging into your skin, nails sure to leave moon crescents, but neither of you cared. Not when you were so close to coming all over his face.
His pace got faster, and all you could do to ground yourself was grab a fistful of his hair, pushing him further into your heat. Sunghoon was not able to breathe, but he couldn't bring himself to care, the feeling of your warmth on his face and your thighs squishing his head far too good for him to ever consider stopping. He moaned right into you, the vibrations just what you needed to be sent over the edge, your head moving to the side and pushing against the pillow to silence your noises as searing white overtook your vision.
Sunghoon kept working his tongue inside you, relishing in the clenches of your orgasm and how your pussy seemed to beg for him to always stay inside you. But he eventually pulled out, moving to place kisses all over the skin of your thighs as you rode the aftershocks.
“Did so well for daddy, tasted so sweet” he whispered, going back to your cunt and lowering to suckle on your clit one last time, smiling to himself when you whined in overstimulation, not having yet completely cooled down.
“Are you alright, pretty?” He came up to your line of vision, cradling your face in his big hands.
“Mhmh.”
“C’mon pretty, use your big girl words.”
“‘s all good,” you slurred your words slightly, mind still reeling from your orgasm. You blinked a few times, finally looking at your boyfriend. The sight alone sent hot waves of need in your lower belly all over again.
Sunghoon’s hair was all sweaty and disheveled, the bottom half of his face completely soaked in your juices, which you could taste when he pulled you in for a quick kiss.
“That’s good, little girl.” He flipped you over once you had slightly regained your breath. He grabbed your hips and made you arch your back, pulling your bottom half against his crotch. He pressed his very hard cock, still covered by his slacks, against your bare pussy, the wetness seeping on his pants right away to form a wet patch. “Because daddy hasn't forgotten how you interrupted him earlier, so now he will put his precious baby in her place.”
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pucksandpower · 29 days ago
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Fourth Time’s the Charm
Max Verstappen x Norris!Reader
Summary: it starts, as all the best things do, with a bet (“If I win the race tomorrow and take the championship, you owe me a favor. Anything I want.”)
Note: thank you so much to @altxanna for the fantastic idea
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The lights of the Las Vegas strip pulse outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse, but neither of you cares. You’re both tangled up in each other under the covers, limbs lazily draped and intertwined. The TV is playing some action movie you both stopped paying attention to an hour ago, the volume low, serving as nothing more than background noise.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you say, your voice soft as you trace a finger along Max’s arm, admiring the way his muscles shift beneath his skin.
“Just thinking,” he murmurs, resting his head against the pillow. His accent wraps around the words in a way that feels so familiar it’s comforting.
“About the race?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
Max turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes catching the dim light from the window. “What else would I be thinking about?”
You hum, tilting your head in mock thought. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about how your girlfriend is ridiculously good-looking? Or how lucky you are to have me?”
His lips quirk into a smile, the kind that’s as much in his eyes as it is on his face. “You’re right. I should focus on what really matters.” He shifts slightly, leaning closer to you. “You’re ridiculously good-looking, and I’m very lucky.”
You laugh and shove his shoulder lightly. “That’s better.”
He catches your hand before you can pull it away, his fingers lacing with yours. His expression grows more serious as he says, “But yes, I’m thinking about the race. I’m thinking about winning.”
You roll your eyes at the sheer confidence in his tone. “You think you’re going to win.”
Max raises an eyebrow. “Think? I know I’m going to win. You don’t believe in me?”
“Oh, I believe in you,” you say, smirking. “I just also believe in my brother. And if Lando finishes ahead of you, the title fight goes to Qatar.”
He groans dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “Don’t remind me. The idea of dragging this out another week …”
“What, scared Lando might pull it off?”
He narrows his eyes at you, feigning offense. “Scared? Me? No. I’m just saying it would be … inconvenient.”
“Uh-huh.” You grin, shifting onto your side to face him fully. “I don’t know, Max. Lando’s been looking pretty good lately. He might surprise you tomorrow.”
Max’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re really going to sit here, in my bed, and tell me your brother is going to beat me?”
“I’m just saying it’s possible,” you tease.
He shakes his head, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Alright, then. If you’re so confident, let’s make it interesting.”
Your eyebrows lift. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”
“A bet,” he says simply.
You prop yourself up on your elbow, intrigued. “A bet?”
Max nods, his smirk growing. “If I win the race tomorrow and take the championship, you owe me a favor. Anything I want.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
You consider it for a moment, then ask, “And if Lando finishes ahead of you?”
“Then you get a favor. Anything you want.”
You bite your lip to keep from smiling too broadly. “You really think you’re that unbeatable, huh?”
“I know I am,” he says, his confidence practically radiating off him.
“Alright, Verstappen,” you say, holding out your hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
He clasps your hand in his, his grip firm but warm. “Deal.”
You let your hand linger in his for a moment before pulling it away. “So, what’s this big favor you’re going to ask for if you win?”
He leans back against the pillows, his smirk turning devilish. “You’ll find out when I win.”
“If you win,” you correct, lying back down beside him.
“I’ll win,” he says confidently, his voice low as his hand trails down your back.
You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“And yet, here you are,” he says, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest.
You can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and for a moment, the room falls quiet. It’s peaceful in a way you don’t get to experience often, and you savor it.
“You know,” you say after a while, your voice quiet, “if Lando does win tomorrow, it’s not because you’re not good enough. He’s just …”
“Your brother?” Max finishes, his tone teasing.
You laugh softly. “Yeah, that too. But he’s been working so hard for this, Max. You both have. It’s … complicated.”
He runs a hand through your hair, his touch gentle. “I know. But on the track, it’s not complicated. It’s just me, the car, and the finish line. No brothers, no girlfriends. Just racing.”
You tilt your head to look up at him. “And what about after the race?”
“After the race …” He pauses, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “After the race, I’m just me. And you’re just you. That doesn’t change, no matter what.”
You don’t respond right away, letting his words sink in. Then, with a small smile, you say, “You’re really not scared at all, are you?”
“Of Lando? No,” he says, his voice light. “Of you? A little.”
You laugh, shoving him lightly. “Good. You should be.”
He catches your hand again, this time pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’ll remember that.”
You let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing against his. “You’d better get some sleep, Verstappen. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
He hums in agreement, but instead of pulling away, he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck. “One more kiss,” he murmurs against your skin.
You close your eyes, your breath hitching slightly. “Just one?”
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk returning. “Maybe two.”
You shake your head, laughing softly as he pulls you back under the covers.
And for now, the world outside doesn’t matter.
***
The final lap of the Las Vegas Grand Prix feels endless. The crowd’s roar grows louder with every corner, drowning out even the hum of the engines. Your hands are clammy as you grip the edge of your seat in the Red Bull garage, your eyes glued to the screen. Max��s car slices through the neon-lit streets of Vegas, and Lando is right behind him.
It’s close. Too close.
“Come on, Lando,” you mutter under your breath, though your heart isn’t entirely in it.
Max is P5. Lando is P6. A single position apart. If it stays this way, the championship is Max’s.
You’re not sure who you’re rooting for anymore.
The chequered flag waves as Max crosses the line, and your both heart drops and soars. P5. It’s done.
“MAX VERSTAPPEN, YOU ARE THE 2024 WORLD CHAMPION!” GP’s voice explodes over the team radio, his excitement nearly incomprehensible.
Max’s laughter comes through the speakers, unrestrained and wild. It’s a sound you know all too well — relief, joy, triumph all rolled into one.
“Yessss!” Max shouts. “That was incredible! Thank you so much for this season!”
You can’t help the smile tugging at your lips, even as the realization sinks in. He won. He really won.
The camera cuts to the Red Bull garage, where the team is in chaos — cheers, hugs, champagne spraying already. Christian adjusts his headset, leaning in to speak.
“Max, congratulations, mate. What an unbelievable season. You’ve done it again.”
“Thanks, Christian. Four in a row — unreal.”
You watch the screen as Max’s car slows on the cooldown lap, weaving slightly in celebration. You know him well enough to see it, even through the helmet — the ease in his shoulders, the grin he must be wearing.
Then his voice cuts through the radio again, this time steadier, more purposeful.
“And just so you know, I’m calling in my favor now.”
Christian’s confused laugh is audible even through the crackling radio. “Your favor? What are you talking about?”
You freeze, the air catching in your lungs.
Max chuckles, low and mischievous. “I had a bet with my girlfriend. I told her I’d win tonight. She owes me a favor, and I know exactly what I want.”
Your stomach flips, a mixture of dread and anticipation.
GP’s voice comes through, confused but amused. “Are we supposed to know what this favor is?”
“No, no,” Max says, his tone casual but firm. “But you’ll find out soon enough.”
Christian presses again, trying to pry it out of him. “Come on, Max. What’s the favor?”
There’s a pause, the kind that feels deliberate, like Max is savoring the moment.
“I want to marry her. Tonight. Right here in Vegas.”
The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, your pulse racing.
GP bursts out laughing. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” Max replies, his voice steady, no hint of hesitation.
You sit frozen, your heart thundering in your chest. Did he just-
“Max,” Christian says, a mixture of disbelief and laughter in his tone, “does she even know about this?”
“She does now,” Max says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
The team radio falls silent for a moment, and the TV commentary fills the void as the podium finishers begin to line up. But you barely register any of it.
Max is proposing. No — not proposing. Declaring.
The camera pans to his car as he pulls into parc fermé, the four-time World Champion. The team swarms him, pulling him from the car, hoisting him into the air. The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but all you can think about is his voice in your head.
“I want to marry her. Tonight.”
You barely notice when someone taps your shoulder, Max’s PR officer. “You should get down to the celebrations,” she says, her voice brimming with excitement. “He’ll want you there.”
Your legs feel like jelly as you stand, weaving through the sea of Red Bull personnel to get to the barriers.
***
When you finally see him, his helmet is off, his face flushed from the race and grinning so wide it’s like he’s glowing. He spots you instantly, cutting through the crowd like no one else exists.
“Max,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.
“You heard me,” he says, his voice low but firm, his eyes locked on yours. “I want to marry you tonight.”
You stare at him, still trying to catch up. “You’re insane.”
He steps closer, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Probably. But I’m serious.”
“Max, you just won a world championship,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, not-”
“I am celebrating,” he interrupts, his voice softening. “With you. And I don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve known for years that I want you. Why wait?”
Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest. “This is insane. People don’t just get married in Vegas on a whim.”
He tilts his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “People do it all the time, actually.”
“Max-”
“I love you,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I love you, and I want to start the rest of my life with you. Tonight. Right now.”
You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you — the team, the media, everyone waiting for your reaction. But in this moment, it’s just the two of you.
“Say yes,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “Say yes, and let me win you, too.”
You laugh, a shaky, breathless sound that comes out more like a sob. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it.”
You take a deep breath, your hand tightening around his. “Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
The smile that breaks across his face is pure joy, unfiltered and blinding. He pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as the team around you erupts into cheers.
“Alright, Verstappen,” you say, laughing as he spins you. “You’ve got your favor. Let’s get married.”
***
The wedding chapel is everything you expected it to be: over-the-top, tacky in the most endearing way, and bathed in flickering neon lights. A bright red Cadillac is parked out front, its headlights beaming into the frigid Vegas night. Inside, the carpet is a deep, gaudy red, and plastic flowers line the aisle. The faint smell of cigarettes lingers in the air, clinging to the cheap velvet curtains.
It’s surreal, to say the least.
“This is insane,” you mumble, standing in a side room with Lando, who’s staring at you like he’s still trying to process what’s happening.
“You think this is insane?” He replies, pointing vaguely toward the chapel. “What about the fact that you’re marrying Max Verstappen in a Vegas chapel at 3 a.m. with a guy dressed as Elvis officiating?”
You groan, adjusting the makeshift bouquet of roses someone from the Red Bull team had pulled together. “Don’t remind me.”
Lando smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t think I have to. This is going to live in my head rent-free for the rest of my life.”
You shoot him a look. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”
“Are you kidding?” He folds his arms, the grin never leaving his face. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Besides, who else is going to walk you down the aisle?”
Your stomach flips at the thought. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Lando softens a little, stepping closer. “Hey,” he says, his voice quieter now, “you sure about this? I mean, it’s Max. And Vegas. And Elvis.”
You bite your lip, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I’m sure.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say, meeting his eyes. “I love him, Lando. He’s ridiculous, and he drives me insane, but I love him.”
Lando watches you for a moment, then sighs dramatically. “Well, I guess if anyone’s crazy enough to keep up with Max, it’s you.”
“Gee, thanks,” you say dryly, but your smile betrays you.
There’s a knock on the door, and one of the chapel staff pokes their head in. “We’re ready for you.”
Your heart leaps into your throat.
Lando claps his hands together, his grin back in full force. “Alright, let’s do this.”
***
The chapel is even more ridiculous than you’d imagined. A man dressed as Elvis stands at the altar, adjusting his oversized sunglasses and strumming a guitar idly as he waits. Max is already there, looking completely at ease, as if this is just another podium ceremony.
When he sees you, his face lights up, and any lingering nerves you had melt away.
“You ready?” Lando whispers, offering his arm.
“As I’ll ever be,” you whisper back, looping your arm through his.
The music starts — a surprisingly heartfelt rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” sung by Elvis — and you can’t help but laugh under your breath.
“You’re walking down the aisle to Elvis,” Lando says, shaking his head. “Unreal.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, though you’re smiling.
The walk feels like it takes forever and no time at all. Max’s gaze is fixed on you the entire time, his expression soft and unguarded in a way you don’t see often. By the time you reach him, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
Lando hands you off with an exaggerated sigh. “Take care of her. She’s the only one who can put up with you.”
“Don’t worry,” Max says, smirking as he shakes Lando’s hand. “I plan to.”
Lando steps back, but not before whispering, “If you hurt her, I’ll crash you out next season.”
Max laughs, then turns back to you, his hands finding yours.
“You look amazing,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.
“I look ridiculous,” you whisper back.
His grin widens. “Even better.”
Elvis clears his throat, drawing your attention. “Alright, folks, let’s get this show on the road!”
The ceremony is exactly as absurd as you’d expected, and yet somehow, it feels perfect.
“Dearly beloved,” Elvis begins, his voice smooth and practiced, “we are gathered here tonight to witness the union of Max and …” He pauses, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.
You realize no one ever told him your name.
“Uh,” you startle back to reality for a moment, “Y/N.”
“Max and Y/N,” Elvis continues smoothly, as if this sort of thing happens all the time.
He launches into the ceremony, peppering in car-themed metaphors and Elvis song references.
“Marriage,” he says at one point, “is a lot like a road trip. Sometimes it’s smooth sailing, sometimes you hit a few potholes, but as long as you’ve got each other, you’ll always find your way back to Graceland.”
You glance at Max, who’s barely holding back a laugh.
“Are you laughing at our wedding vows?” You whisper.
“I’m laughing at the potholes,” he whispers back.
Elvis continues, undeterred.
When it’s time for the personal vows, Max surprises you.
“I know this is all … unconventional,” he says, his hands still holding yours. “But that’s us, isn’t it? Unconventional. From the first time we met, I knew you were different. You don’t just keep up with me; you challenge me. You push me to be better, on and off the track. And you put up with all my nonsense, which is honestly impressive.”
You laugh, tears stinging your eyes.
“I promise to always be your biggest fan, even when you’re cheering for your brother,” Max continues, his voice softer now. “I promise to always fight for you, always support you, and always love you, no matter how crazy life gets.”
You’re not sure when the tears started falling, but they’re there, hot and fast.
“Your turn,” Elvis says, nodding at you.
You take a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “Max, you drive me crazy. You’re stubborn, competitive, and impossible to argue with. But you’re also kind, loyal, and the most passionate person I’ve ever met. You make me laugh when I don’t want to, and you make me believe in things I never thought I could.”
His eyes soften, and you squeeze his hands tighter.
“I promise to always stand by your side, even when you’re impossible. I promise to love you, challenge you, and never let you win a bet without a fight.”
Max grins, and the rest of the room seems to fade away.
When Elvis finally declares you husband and wife, it feels like the world stops.
“You may now kiss your bride,” he says with a flourish.
Max doesn’t hesitate, pulling you close and kissing you like the world outside doesn’t exist. The room erupts into cheers, Lando’s voice loudest among them.
When you finally pull away, Max leans his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper.
“We did it.”
You smile, your hands resting on his chest. “Yeah. We did.”
And just like that, Max Verstappen is your husband.
***
The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter, chaos, and an overwhelming sense of unreality. The “reception” is cobbled together on the fly, with Red Bull team members and an assortment of drivers spilling out of limos and taxis into a nearby lounge they commandeer for the celebration.
Max stays close to you the entire time, his hand resting on your lower back or entwined with yours. Every time you glance at him, he’s already looking at you, his expression so full of love it makes your chest ache.
Eventually, you both slip away from the commotion, winding your way back to Max’s penthouse. The city hums below, the neon lights still pulsing with energy, but inside, everything feels quiet. Peaceful.
You’re curled up together in bed, the chaos of the night left behind, when Max finally speaks. “So,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence, “are you going to tell me what your favor would’ve been if you had won the bet?”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think you’re ready for that, Verstappen.”
His brows lift, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, now you have to tell me.”
You tilt your head, feigning deep thought. “Well, it would’ve been something big. Something life-changing.”
His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Life-changing, huh? What, were you going to make me switch teams? Retire early?”
You smirk, letting the pause hang in the air just long enough for him to grow impatient. “A ring.”
Max blinks, caught off guard for a split second. “A ring?”
“Mm-hmm.” You trace lazy circles on his chest, pretending not to notice his stunned expression. “I was going to ask for a ring. But you, being Max Verstappen, had to be a few laps ahead and beat me to it. Like usual.”
His laughter bursts out, warm and unrestrained. “You’re telling me you were going to propose to me?”
You shrug, unable to keep the playful smile off your face. “What can I say? I wanted to beat you at your own game.”
Max shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you fully. His grin is impossibly wide, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You married me,” you point out, grinning back.
“I did,” he agrees, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And I’d do it again. But I have to say, I think I prefer this version. Me proposing. You saying yes. Vegas. Elvis.”
You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance.” He’s still smiling, but his voice softens, turning serious. “I love you, you know. And I don’t care if it’s Vegas or a ten-minute ceremony or some ridiculous bet. This — us — feels right. It always has.”
Your teasing expression falters, replaced by something softer. “I love you, too. Even if you are insufferable.”
He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Insufferable and married. To you. Forever.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Forever, huh?”
“Forever,” he repeats firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And just for the record, I would’ve said yes if you’d proposed first.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His lips brush against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m glad I won this time.”
You laugh against his mouth, your arms winding around his neck as you pull him closer. “Don’t get used to it, Verstappen.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Verstappen.”
The name catches you off guard, and your heart stutters in your chest. Mrs. Verstappen. It’s ridiculous and perfect and makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“You like that?” He asks, clearly noticing your reaction.
You bite your lip, nodding. “I think I could get used to it.”
His grin returns, smug and full of mischief. “Good. Because you don’t have a choice now.”
You shake your head, laughing as you lean into him, letting the weight of the night settle around you. The city lights outside keep shining, the noise of Las Vegas carrying on far below, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you.
And that’s all that matters.
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sttoru · 1 year ago
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𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 !
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⟣ sypnosis. you were curious if your boyfriend would pass a ‘loyalty test’ that you’ve seen on social media and you decide to see for yourself, only to discover something much more . . . heartwarming.
⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. mostly tooth rotting fluff. talks about cheating / a sprinkle of trust issues from reader. the rest is satoru just being lovesick.
⟣ note. uhhhh… idk just a random idea i got at three am on a saturday night after being woken up from a nightmare >_< enjoy .
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you don’t think satoru would actually ever cheat on you. your curiosity just got the best of you when you saw that one girl do a ‘loyalty test’ on her boyfriend. it was quite simple—testing if your partner would hand you their phone without being suspiciously defensive.
therefore you walked into satoru’s room and spotted him laying on his side, his back facing the door. he didn’t have any earphones in so you could hear the sounds of a movie playing on the phone he held in his hands.
he seemed so peaceful and content that you were already feeling bad for disturbing him with your silly test. you moved to sit on the edge of the bed and cleared your throat, making your presence known as if the sorcerer hadn’t sensed it moments ago.
“are you cheating on me?”
blunt and straight to the point.
satoru pauses the show on his phone and looks at you like you had said the most outrageous thing there is (to him, you really did). he drops the device on the bed and turns his body to face yours; “well—hello to you too, baby.”
he runs a hand through his hair before sitting up against the headboard with a raised brow, one hand cautiously reaching out for you. satoru was thinking about all the things he has said or done previously that could’ve possibly make you think he was screwing around behind your back. his mind worked fast, though he couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.
“answer my question please, ‘toru.” you mumble, feeling slightly guilty for doing this to your lover. you could see the confusion plastered on his face.
“no, i am not.” satoru shakes his head whilst holding your hand in his, thumb brushing against the back of it, “what makes you think that?”
you weren’t about to say ‘oh nevermind then! just a dumb thing that i saw on tiktok’—no, there was still one thing left to do. even if you’re so super sure that your boyfriend was hiding nothing from you. maybe there was an one in a million chance that your intuition was wrong. or maybe it’s just your underlying trust issues speaking.
“uhh, just wanted.. to check.. i guess?” you clear your throat and take a deep inhale before putting your hand out to satoru, palm up.
the white-haired sorcerer looks from your hand to you, and back. he doesn’t know what that indicated, so he takes a simple guess; satoru places his chin on your palm, giving you an amused kind of grin. you raise an eyebrow as he rests his head on your hand—which wasn’t what you wanted to gain from your gesture.
but you couldn’t blame him. it was cute that that was the first thing he thought of doing.
“you’re always welcome to check. got nothin’ to hide anyway.” he shrugs, not offended by your accusation in the slightest. you see the way his blue eyes look up at you—in a way that shows his pure, unadulterated adoration for you.
you nod and scratch satoru under his chin, to which he smiles and closes his eyes, enjoying the tingling touch, “then can i .. look through your phone?”
without an ounce of hesitation, he had placed his phone unlocked in your hand. satoru doesn’t care much about privacy anyway—you’re his girlfriend, you’re the only one allowed to know every single thing about him, “of course, baby.”
your eyes land on the screen and your jaw drops as you see his home screen; a picture of you up close, sleeping with your cheek squished against his arm, own hands resting near your head and . . . is that drool trickling down your chin?
“oops, sorry, you were too cute not to take a picture of.” satoru chuckles as he sees your reaction. he lays back on his side, elbow propped on the pillow with his head resting against his hand—watching you go through his phone with a relaxed look.
you roll your eyes playfully before starting your search. your finger swiped across the screen and landed on the messenger app satoru uses. you click on it and scroll through his chats, but don’t find anything out of the ordinary. he recently talked to you, his first year students, nanami and shoko.
you curiously tap on his chat with shoko and don’t read anything interesting at first glance. you scroll up and take note of how satoru was the one who kept most of the conversation going. shoko’s replies were much shorter and curt—straight to the point.
but then your eyes land on a conversation from two weeks ago. satoru had showed shoko a bunch of selfies you had sent him that same day. he was telling her how ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’ you were, practically bragging about you being his girl.
you scroll up some more and see that he’s done the same many times before; sending shoko pictures of you and kind of rambling to her about how beautiful you are.
shoko—being the good friend she is—indulged into his little lovesick ramblings and agreed with every thing satoru said—even complimenting your looks herself. you begun to get embarrassed at this unexpected revelation.
when going through more of his chats with other people, you realise how much satoru loves to talk about you. you couldn’t possibly count the many times satoru had refused invitations from his students or other friends simply because he wanted to hang out with you instead.
you discovered that he even skipped two or three important meetings at the school to go spend the day with you—nanami scolding him via text each time he did so.
“damn..” you murmur and glance up at your lover after closing his messaging app. satoru was staring right back at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him.
he wasn’t embarrassed about you reading some of those cheesy and sappy texts at all. in fact, he was happy. he wants you to know how much he loves you (as if he doesn’t show you exactly that every day of the week).
“go on, sweets.” satoru nods towards his phone, encouraging you to continue your inspection. your eyes dart back towards the screen and you shyly swipe and scroll some more, eventually ending up in his gallery.
the first things you noticed: two albums dedicated to you. all were filled with hundreds of pictures of you (and him). one was named ‘my love,’ the other ‘me&my love’ — both with a heart at the end. scrolling through them, you noticed many images you hadn’t even realised were ever taken.
many of those pictures were also favourited in his gallery.
you nibble on your bottom lip and leave the gallery app even more flustered than before. you aimlessly click around some more on his phone. what really surprised you most was that you were named in his reminder app.
there were tons—all added in one long list. some were so pure that you couldn’t contain the slight tears in your eyes;
‘bring gf gifts’, ‘remind gf that she’s amazing’, ‘bring gf lunch’, ‘send gf daily selfie’, ‘daily cuddles w gf (if she wants)’, ‘give gf big smooch (important!)’, ‘check up on gf when away on business’, — satoru doesn’t actually need to have those reminders on his phone. his mind is so full of you that he’ll automatically remember to do everything, almost on autopilot. he just has those there for… well, just in case he somehow ends up forgetting.
you lock his phone after seeing enough and give it back to your lover. you wordlessly crawl over to him on the bed and snuggle up to his body, head resting on his chest.
“sorry.” you quietly apologise. you knew he wasn’t hiding anything, but the fact that you still went ahead and tried out that ‘loyalty test’ on someone as loyal and loving as satoru makes your heart ache a bit. especially after discovering just how smitten he’s with you.
“dunno why you’re apologising—but please don’t.” satoru whispers and rubs your back in a soothing manner, kissing the top of your head and smiling against your scalp afterwards, “it’s fiiine.”
he’s entertained by the reactions to your discoveries, even if those are but mere indications to the actual unending and undying love he holds for you in his heart.
you lift your head up and look at satoru. your bottom lip stuck out, corners of your mouth twitching slightly whilst your eyes started to get a bit glassy. you really felt bad—yet you also felt appreciated on the other hand. if you didn’t go through with your curious idea, you wouldn’t have gotten to know about any of this.
“aww, my sweet, sweet girl.” satoru coos and places two kisses right below each eye, tapping your nose with a grin. he adores the way you look and if it wasn’t for his self control, he’d have nibbled on those cheeks of yours out of playful aggression.
it’s then that satoru remembers one of his daily tasks; one he hadn’t properly done today.
you were caught off guard once more as satoru’s lips crashed down onto yours—no warning given whatsoever. his big hands held onto your cheeks, thumb rubbing the skin there whilst his glossy lips moved against yours in a gentle yet much sloppy way.
“there,” the white-haired man hums in content as he pulls away, giggling once he sees a bit of his saliva coat your mouth. he wipes it away with his thumb, “your smooch of the day.”
you couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated cringy way satoru said the latter—your boyfriend laughing right alongside you afterwards.
satoru wasn’t done with you, however. he had many other daily tasks that were yet to be fulfilled.
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arminsumi · 2 months ago
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. . . 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮
Suguru Geto (18+)
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Suguru tying his hands behind his back because his best friend wants you — and he wouldn't get in the way of Satoru's happiness, would he?
► 'I heard that you fell in love... I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby, snap out of it'
+ warnings: MDNI/18+ content, cheating, smoking, sexual tension, angst
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"No, not at all. Don't worry about it." Suguru shook his head in denial.
"You sure? I was under the impression that you wanted her." Satoru said.
"Wow, Satoru, you've known me for how long? And yet still you misunderstand me." he smirked, "I only ever said that she's pretty. That's all."
"Oh!" Satoru blinked, "Okay, good."
"She's probably interested in you — you should go for it." Suguru encouraged.
"Yeah, I think I will. I mean, the worst she could do is say no, right?"
Suguru let out an amused hum, keeping his lips pursed.
As Satoru went over to your table, Suguru watched with a tightening jaw, wishing for the worst — but his wishes fell on deaf ears, he soon realized, as he observed a 'yes' forming on your lips.
... Am I a fool?
Suguru's features twitched in discomfort when he watched you and Satoru hitting it off.
It's fine. I don't like her that much, anyways.
. . . 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝,
and Suguru realized that he was, in fact, a fool. Quite possibly the biggest fool in the world.
Whenever you and Satoru flirted, whenever you kissed, whenever you locked up like lovers so shamelessly and openly in front of him, he felt sick to his stomach — terribly sick. He'd suddenly excuse himself to the bathroom, and tremble over the sink; not quite ready to squeeze the contents out of his stomach, but close to retching.
But weren't you a fool, too?
"Why did you ever think that dating his best friend would bring you closer to him? It's just silly." your friend derided.
"Don't ridicule me. My feelings for Satoru aren't a lie — "
" — yeah right."
" — it's just that I expected them to overpower the feelings I had for Suguru. Can you really blame me? Even you said that Suguru has that something about him."
Yes, that something about Suguru Geto. Many people before you have felt that urge to desperately grab him, sink their claws into him, and never let go. He's never been oblivious to it.
Suguru's so blasé about love. He's the kind of man that doesn't show too much interest — and that's half the fun of it all. There's no pressure; just tie your laces and run after his shadow.
. . . 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠,
and by summer the tension between you and him was growing like a little beast in the pit of your bellies.
Stolen glances. Quiet midnight conversations in the dark hallway. Pathetic flirting quickly covered up as a joke. Lingering hugs. Drunk confessions conveniently 'forgotten' the next day. Walking as if in a daze at your side, side-eyeing you kissing his best friend with an unmissable bitterness shaking his eyelashes.
It was only a matter of time until it all became too much. Who remembers who snapped first? Him or you? Of course you can blame it on drunkenness, but isn't that the reason you got drunk with Satoru's best friend in the first place? So that tomorrow, all the kisses could be excused with "I was drunk, it didn't mean anything".
. . . 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬,
it was more than that; you feeling up his chest and nimbly unbuttoning his white shirt, him pushing you up against the wall, not kissing you like a normal person — tasting and relishing your lips and cheeks and neck like some kind of starved animal, Suguru lured you into his cold, dark bed with full intent to devour you.
"Let me take it off for you." Suguru offered, soft voice shaking with this greedy lust that you can't quite explain.
You complied and let him peel your clothes off your body — and though he did it with haste, he savored every moment.
I'm taking what's supposed to be mine.
That's what he thought, and kept repeating to himself in his head as he unzipped his black skinny jeans and hurried out of them, and slid his boxer briefs down, and got inside you like he didn't care about anyone by any name except yours.
Grunting like he needed this for his whole life, Suguru muttered small dirty things against your neck, hiding his face there.
"... you're so tight, are you sure it doesn't hurt?" turned into "... you're taking it so well" turned into "am I better than him? Tell me I'm better than him, please. what do you mean you 'don't know'? Come on, you can lie to Satoru but don't lie to me... I know I can fuck you better than he can." turned into "Cum for me, baby; let me see how pretty you look when you cum all over a big cock" turned into "... why don't you just stay the night?"
. . . 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚,
because Suguru got a taste of what it's like to wake up with you at his side. It was like a picturesque view; you looking messy and splayed out after a long night sprawled out underneath him.
When he felt his heart pang with the anxiety that he'd never be able to have you to himself, that's when he got out of bed and got dressed, leaving you alone in his bed.
It was a bad idea.
Getting a text from Satoru, shaking your upper arm to wake you, panicking but trying to look composed, seeing his hickeys on your neck — Suguru just went silent with guilt.
What have I done.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the early morning sun just barely streaming in through the gap in the curtains, and he watched you get dressed.
"I need a cigarette." he said anxiously, and got up to go have a smoke on the balcony.
You gave him a weary look and watched him leave. Just as you pulled the last bit of your clothes on your body, he lit up and drew in a deep breath and tainted his lungs with dirty tar and carcinogens.
Walking out onto the balcony, hearing the early morning traffic of Tokyo and seeing the dreary grey of cloudy skies, you stood besides Suguru.
Your attention. That's all he ever wanted. Your attention and a lot of it.
"Sorry." he apologized, lowering his cigarette and putting it out. "I know you don't like it when I smoke."
"You're right; I don't." you said, coming in close and pulling him down for a kiss. "But for some reason, it tastes good on your lips."
He looked down at you with full, black eyes.
"I'm not gonna tell Satoru anything about last night. Are you?"
"No, but I'm thinking of breaking up slowly with him."
"Don't do that. Just forget about me. You love him right?"
You looked away to the skyscrapers and refused to meet Suguru's eyes for a while.
"How am I supposed to forget about you?" you chuckled, "Even if I could, you don't really mean that, do you?"
"... No." Suguru hesitantly replied.
He looked at you shiftily, torn between crying and kissing you or both — a million little and big feelings overwhelmed him. He tried to organize them all, or at least as best he could, and waited for a moment of mental clarity to come over him before speaking again.
"Is it my fault, or have you been thinking of breaking it off with him for a while?"
"It's not your fault, Suguru. It's been a long time coming."
"How long?"
"Since it started. But why are you asking me questions that you know the answer to, Suguru?"
He shrugged, "I just needed clarity."
"Well there's your clarity." you sighed, "I'm gonna take a hot shower."
Suguru looked at you, dying for the moment when your eyes met his gaze, but it didn't come; he stood there unsatisfied and frustrated as you went inside without even paying him a glance, his black eyes on your back.
He rubbed his face, sighed hard, and lit up another cigarette and smoked it while listening to the shower run in the background, just pathetically daydreaming of little fantasies of joining you.
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𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
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