#the moment we’ve all been waiting for

[420blazehausen]

How we feelin girlies

[unfriendly--blvck--hottie]

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO!

[pkmn-smashorpass]

I haven’t asked this in a while but this is a special occasion

Reblog for sample size

[crosshairslongasslegs]

PAPA HUNTER’S ARMS OPEN AND READY TO HOLD HIS DAUGHTER OHHHHH

[murdleandmarot]

The dichotomy of listening to moments of happiness really is just “Oh, I want to live forever” directly followed by “I am going to fucking kill myself.”

[lil-oreo-cookie]

The Eye In The Closet [Pages 12-14]

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[blimbosworlddd]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 4)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic is doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 6.3k

Masterlist

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Shikamaru loves his late father’s lighter. At the tender age of seventeen, he found it in one of his coat pockets in the closet after his funeral. It’s one of those old school classic lighters that you flick open and to this day, it’s the only one he uses to smoke. A morning glory flower is engraved into the sleek silver, and it’s the same flower that Shikamaru orders in his wife’s bouquets. Sometimes he doesn’t even use his lighter for smoking. He’ll just stare at it or keep it in his fist, rubbing the smooth round edges to ground him when logic and practicality no longer pay for his taxing burdens.

This is exactly what he’s doing now: one hand caging the lighter in his pocket while using the other to emphasize important phrases with gestures,as he tries to convince the couple why they need to buy this mansion. The words he finesses them with make up for almost any preconceived concern that they may have with the property, his gravelly tone carrying the undeniable confidence necessary to sell it.

The three stroll through the hallways, and the couple takes in the interior that they imagine looking at for the rest of their lives. The wife is beaming, running her fingers across the lustrous wallpaper while also investing her attention on the little history lesson Shikamaru teaches them about the house. The husband nods along to the story wordlessly, grabbing his woman’s hand as they follow the real estate agent into the kitchen.

He’s not really feeling how loudly the wood creaks beneath his feet, or how the cabinets in the kitchen are wooden despite the variety of building materials that adorn this establishment. However, Shikamaru ain’t paid to do nothing. So he turns around, releases the lighter in his pocket and raises both his hands to stop the customers.

“The intramural design of this house is pretty old, I’ll admit. But one of our most trusted general contractors is already drafting the modern upgrade of the interior.”

The husband raises a brow. “Such as?”

“Glad you asked.” He walks by the marble counters and opens one of the cabinets. “Why have wooden cabinets when there are significantly more durable options? Our contractor can laminate a sheet of acrylic or stainless steel over the medium-density fiberboard.”

Shikamaru leans on the countertop. “It's your choice, of course, but acrylic is susceptible to scratches.”

The wife hums in thought, realizing she hadn’t noticed the material of the cabinets until now. She feels her man let go of her hand, the chill air hitting her moistened palm. He clears his throat.

“Okay, but-“

Shika’s coldly sharp eyes quietly welcome the man with his full attention.

“How much will the installment cost? And what can we do about these creaky wooden floors? Will that also add to the price?”

“Nope.” Shika doesn’t miss a beat, lightly pushing himself off the marble. “Since our contractor has been working on this project before you found it, you won’t be paying for any upgrades on their behalf. S’just how we do business.”

The wife’s eyes crinkle in relief, hooking her elbow with her husband’s so she can rest her cheek on his shoulder.

“Does this apply to ordering a security system?” The husband continues.

“Well… no. You’ll hafta pay for that since it’s not a part of-“

Shika’s phone vibrates in his back pocket like a war cry in a distant battle zone. It’s on Do Not Disturb for obvious reasons, but his intuition tells him it’s a call he shouldn’t ignore. And he never ignores his gut. So, he excuses himself for a millisecond only to check who could be calling.

It’s his own wife.

What does this woman want? He thinks. I’m about to sell this house in fifteen minutes anyway. She can wait.

He turns off his phone, facing the couple whispering lowly to each other with approving nods and content-laced grins.

“Sorry about that.” He sighs. “Where were we?”

-

>>Your call has been forwarded to an au-

Temari shuts off her phone, eyebrows pinching into a soft cringe as she glares at the black screen.

This is the third time her husband hasn’t answered her calls, what’s worse is that they’ve barely seen or even interacted with each other in the last couple weeks. He always excused it with ‘gotta sell another house” or “too tired, we’ll talk later” or toe curling sex like that’s enough justification to shut her up. But Temari shuts up when Temari wants to shut up, and Temari once again may hafta spend another day sleeping on their shared california king bed without Temari’s man. 

The exhausted woman scoffs, tossing her device on the couch as she slouches to reach the TV remote. The screen illuminates with the press of a button, and the channel displays a reality show. Images of a bunch of older women are raising their drinks in a toast to celebrate whatever the fuck, and it made Temari think of you.

Y’all haven’t had a proper hang out since she and Shika took you to the dojo, maybe some girl time could give her a less jaded outlook on the situation.

I’ll reach out later, she thinks.

-

Today is Veteran’s Day. Lee is at a restaurant eating with his sensei, Might Guy, and Neji. They’re celebrating Guy’s survival of the Fourth Great War, so it’s not surprising that he and Neji have downed a couple shots of whiskey. Lee, on the other hand, contently sips on his humble glass of cranberry juice from a squiggly straw.

“And so get this,” Neji chuckles, talking as if his face isn't beet red with liquor. “He puts slippers on her feet like she's Cinderella, and then she thanks him with the most unamused tone possible and walks away with a face so lifeless you could mistake her for a zombie.”

Guy Sensei cackles and slaps an open palm on the table. Lee pouts, shooting Neji the sassiest side-eye he can muster at his stupid humor, but his friend just ignores him while slurping on some ramen. Lee hums, gently placing his glass cup down before resting his chin on his folded hands.

“And yet she's the same woman who agreed to go on a date with me tomorrow.”

Guy Sensei drops his jaw with a gasp and Neji drops his chopsticks. 

“And you're telling us this now?” Neji glares at him, but there's no real irritation in his tone. His eyes glow with pride for his friend.

Guy Sensei grips his shoulder lovingly, a serious expression adorns his face.

“I know I never really bothered teaching you how to love a woman.” The thrumming bass in his demanding voice carried subtle waves of regret and faith. “But despite all that you've been through, you taught yourself how to do it. That's how I know you've always had it in you. I'm proud of you, my boy.”

Lee feels his lips wobble with joy and turns to Neji who closes his eyes with his own knowing smile.

“Th-thanks Guy Sensei. I think I hit the jackpot with this one!”

Guy leans his back into his wheelchair with a hand rubbing his chin.

“I’m glad,” he grumbles. “Tenten’s lost her choke hold on you, I see.”

Neji’s eyes rip open and his smile melts away. He snaps his head to Lee, who’s already frowning while his eyes stare a thousand yards ahead of him. Guy catches onto the shift in the aura and watches his student’s depressing reaction with subtle horror.

“I’m sorry Lee,” Guy sighs guiltily. “I thought you were over her.”

Lee lowers his unfolding hands from his chin. No one’s mentioned my ex-fiance in years, he thinks. I thought I was over her too. He inhales deeply and takes a swig from his cranberry juice.

“Her memory still brings me pain,” he prompts reluctantly.

Neji side-eyes Guy before looking down at his now-cold ramen. He's losing his appetite, and it's not even about him, all because Sensei couldn't watch his mouth. 

Suddenly, images of your tear-stained face, your beautiful smile, and your relentless kindness replaces the void in his chest with a warmth only you can provide. And he can't help but smile, more tenderly, this time.

“But not only have I grown stronger, I have another chance with an amazing woman.” he turns to the window beside him and gazes up at the blue sky, hope twinkling in his eyes.

“For the first time in a long time,” he turns his gaze back to Guy. “I look forward to loving again.”

Neji and Guy silently marvel at his growth and maturity. It’s now Guy’s turn to make a wobbly smile, quietly sniffling as he reaches to hold Lee’s hand. He offers his hand to his other student as well, and Neji hesitantly accepts it with a hopeless sigh. But he's also smiling again, nonetheless.

-

Today is the day you go out with Lee! You both decided he’d pick you up at your place at 7 pm, so you have the whole day to pamper yourself. You’re with your best friend Bria, and both of you are getting your nails done by her nail tech. Bria is another childhood friend of yours, y’all met in elementary school. She had to move to a neighboring state for college, but y’all always kept in touch when you could.

You sigh happily against the massage chair, feeling the tension around your shoulder blades erode while watching the color on your nails blossom with each stroke of the tiny brush.

“Bri, this is the best,” you groan softly. “Thank you.”

“Girl don’t even stress it, you know I missed you.” She rolls her eyes lovingly.

You chuckle sweetly. Bria always showed her affection by spoiling the people who have their own little place in her big heart. You understood why, you just didn’t feel comfortable having money spent on you. However, as years passed, Bria helped you realize that you rejected the way she loved because you felt like a burden - like if she burned some cash for you it'd ultimately be a waste. 

But ever since y’all met, you’ve supported her through many trials and tribulations. You were her strength when she was weak, especially after she was homeless for a period after being kicked out by her abusive grandmother. You and your father took her in when no one else would, and helped her get back on her feet. You made her feel like a normal teen amidst all the chaos. Without you, she would've never been able to blossom into the highly successful woman she is today, finally having her own home and even owning two businesses. From Bria’s point of view, the very least she can do is prepare you for your highly anticipated date.

Your nails are finished and they’re so you: stiletto shaped with a French, purple chrome tip. Bria’s nails are long and Spongbob themed which makes you giggle uncontrollably but at the same time they look dumb good. All this pretty art and not a single dent in your pockets - as it should be.

-

Next up is a shopping spree, but y’all only buy from one store. It’s a small thrift boutique with tons of vintage brands, Bria knows you love your 20 plus year old classics. God, it’s like a hidden museum riddled with ancient yet modernized pieces here. You feel like you’re time traveling as you scan through so many garments; some premiered in 90s runways from Paco Rabanne to Mugler. Where the fuck did the store owner get these?? Your brain ponders in a fashion-crazed frenzy.

While remaining hyper vigilant, you make sure to find something that doesn’t stand out but still screams classy. Simple yet effective. 

“Ayo Bri,” you call out, unable to see your friend anywhere.

“Yeah, hun?” She responds from the other side of the boutique. Predicting her exact location, you put your items in a cart and follow her voice. You show her your selection. Her eyes and fingers silently run over every ridge, every crease, every edge. The cotton is smoothly refined, beautifully dyed and feels amazing.   Your bestie nods affirmingly with a sharp grin.

“…You gon drive him crazy.”

“Like I don’t already.” You scoff.

Bria guffaws as you eagerly throw your arms around her shoulders, swaying you both side to side.

-

It’s 4pm, and y’all finally make it back to your apartment. Luckily, you have a few hours to settle in so you won’t hafta rush to get ready. Both of you sit on your couch while watching Bernie Mac. Bria pours two glasses of Pinot Noir while you take down your twists. You feel the cushion drain your energy from beneath you, but the idea of missing Lee’s inevitable call straightens your back and forces you awake. 

“Pookieee, you never showed me a pic of your lover boyyy,” Bria whines before taking a sip of some wine. Her brow raises unexpectedly at its richness.

You cease your twist out and reach for your phone. You never caught a proper portrait of Lee’s face, but you would sneak a few pics of him sparring with multiple fighters at once. So you show her those. She brings the screen closer to her face, and her eyes bulge out of her sockets.

“DAMN,” She barks. “Bruce Lee who?”

Your jaw drops, gently slapping her thigh at her boldness.

“Don’t disrespect Bruce’s legacy like tha-

“I’M NOT! LOOK,” Bria scrunches her eyes and zooms in on his body. “You can see his muscles through the clothes. THROUGH THE CLOTHES!”

You feel yourself wheezing, a hand over your clenching abdomen to ease the burn of laughter. But you can’t disagree, Lee’s stunning like that.

“Bri… I can’t with you,” you huff with a weak smile.

“Sure ya can!” Bria chirps, framing her words with a fake southern accent. She stay playing.

-

It’s 6:45 pm and you’re all dolled up; hair done, makeup done, outfit on, perfume spritzed. Bria takes a bunch of pics, squealing in delight at how much you ate up this look. She’s proud, so proud of the queen you’ve become.

“Bitch, ya lover boy lucky I’m straight.” 

You smile goofily, about to respond to her joke until you feel your phone vibrate in your hand.

You take it out and Lee’s contact brightens your screen. Bria slaps a palm over her mouth when you answer the call.

“H-Hello?”

Lee closes his eyes, reveling in how sweet and lovely you sound.

“Hi angel,” he chuckles gently. “I’m downstairs.”

You press your thighs together. That voice of his; a deep raspiness thrumming with a tone so sensual, it caresses every nerve in your body. To top it off with a pet name, and he arrives early?? Wheww.

“Okay. C-coming down.”

You hang up and turn to face your friend. She hugs your shoulders and wishes you the best night ever. 

“You can spend the night here if you want, ‘kay?” You coo. Bria nods appreciatively against your neck.

“I’ll save some wine for you,” she whispers.

“No you won’t.” She snorts at how well you know her.

You take your keys, purse and blow Bria a kiss before locking the door behind you.

-

Lee stands outside, leaning against the door of his car as he waits patiently for you. He tugs at his gray slacks, wondering if he should have entrusted his suit to Neji’s personal tailor. He snaps his head up when he hears your door unlock. Your black stiletto pumps clack as you descend down the steps like a goddess from her shrine. He couldn’t look away. He just physically couldn’t.

“Oh my god…” he mumbles, staring hopelessly at your figure; a royal purple sweater dress that reaches your mid-calf, fitting you like a glove as the soft fabric hugs every curve, crease and roll that adorns your body; smoky eyes and a glossy lip accentuate your soft glow; pretty round face framed with an afro- the radiant moonlight illuminating your fluffy coils. You watch your step while gracefully lifting the bottom of the black vintage mink coat draped over your shoulders. He feels like falling to his knees at the sight of you.

After approaching him, you stop at arm’s length so you can take him in. Calling Lee sexy would be a disserving understatement; the gray suit he’s wearing clings to his body with tasteful minimalism; it’s not too baggy, nor is it too tight; the fabric’s at peak quality, smoothly pressed, but not too shiny; you could see the bulk of his thighs slightly stretch his pants (the hems are cropped to perfection); the top four buttons on his black shirt are undone, so you can see his sternum and a delicious peak of his pecs. This fit frames his build with such majestic subtlety, you can't help but undress him with your eyes from head to polished boot.

“Lee! You… you look so handsome,” there’s that familiar lilt of humble adoration in your voice he loves oh so much. It boosts his ego, yet doesn’t soar it to great heights- he’s used to not getting any compliments on his appearance besides his impeccable physique. The rosiness that blooms on his cheeks is evident enough of that.

“Thank you,” he smiles softly. “I know you’re always beautiful no matter what you wear. It- it’s just..”

He nibbles on his bottom lip without ceasing eye contact, the sight urges you to look down shyly but you’re too mesmerized by him to tear your gaze.

“Seeing you tonight has confirmed to me that you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.”

Gravity wins the battle and you finally look down, feeling like you’ll melt into a puddle if he gives you any more sweet praises.

“Th-thank you, Lee. That means a lot.” 

“Of course,” There’s a reassurance in his tone that boosts your ego as well, making you feel like his flattery isn’t just flattery. He makes it feel like a widely accepted fact amongst the masses of an entire nation. No man has ever made you feel that way, you couldn’t depend on them to do that. It took your whole life up until now to realize yourself that you’re the shit, you were always the shit, and forever will be the shit.

He turns to open the door for you, making sure the ends of your fur don’t graze the pavement as you step inside the vehicle.

-

The ride to the restaurant is quiet, words have yet to be exchanged between you two.This kinda baffles Lee because he’s been on plenty of dates; but there’s something about your aura, the way you carry yourself with such poise, from how you speak to how you sit- his face just won’t stop heating up- he's terrifed of messing this up.

You on the other hand are just chilling; basking in the woody scent of his car that mixes with the expensive cologne radiating from Lee in small, balanced whiffs. He smells like cinnamon, sweet and warm while trailing a sharp spiciness. You sense his hesitation, but you don’t know what to say either. And date or not, you refuse to force small talk. It makes you feel icky. So you just enjoy his presence silently.

You’re both halfway to your destination and Lee decides to restart his brain a little. He turns on the radio, making sure the music is only loud enough for both of you to listen casually. Barbra Streisand’s The Way We Were plays in the background. I loved this song as a teen, you think. Gosh I was a hopeless romantic… still am. You ponder if that was ever a bad thing. Or if you were just scared of the fact that you either love passionately, or don’t at all. 

You ponder if that even matters right now.

Lee hums every note Barbra sings with attentive effort, his finger tapping against the wheel to match the feather-light percussion’s rhythm.

“Smiles we gave to one another,” you turn your head to him, not expecting his singing to enchant you the way it does. “For the way we were…”

He sounds so invested in the moment, simply appreciating the song by singing along. Your heart skips a beat when he shifts his gaze to you, a silly smile raising his cheeks before returning his focus on the road ahead. It makes you strangely jealous, the way he so easily erased the growing tension between you two.

You want to do that. You want to do that for yourself, for the people around you, for your patients. Maybe you already do, but you don’t think anyone can do it quite like Lee does.

-

“SO IT’S THE LAUGHTER WE WILL REMEMBER. WHENEVER WE REMEMBER..”  your mouths hang low as you both shout the sentimental lyrics at the top of your lungs. Your bodies sway to the music with fervent enthusiasm like you’re in a soap opera, like it’s the last song you both will ever sing. You feel so free. You both don’t mind how crazy y’all might sound belting notes slightly beyond your registers, for your hearts called out to Streisand’s magnificent delivery of an undeniably nostalgic message. You both feel so free.

“The way we were. The way we… were.” The song concludes with the introductory hums from earlier, and you feel yourself sink back into your seat.

“Damn!” You exclaim. “You got some pipes, Lee.”

Laughter erupts from Lee’s chest. “I can say the same for you too, y/n.”

-

You finally make it to the restaurant and the exterior design is sleek and well illuminated. Lee walks ahead to open the door for you, and you thank him before entering the establishment. You’d expect the interior to have a modern style similar to other restaurants you’ve dined at. To your delightful surprise it’s very old-school. The lights are dimmed to increase the intimacy but not to the point where it’s hard to see. Shika and Temari would love this place, you think. Speaking of that, I wonder if everything’s okay between those two.

A waiter approaches the two of you.

“Good evening, my name is Jeremy,” he prompts. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes,” Lee verifies. “Under the name Rock Lee.”

“Right this way.” Jeremy smiles politely and leads you both to a booth in a secluded corner.

The round table is draped in a black cloth and decorated with silver utensils, two Riesling wine glasses and burgundy twin candles. Even the seats are adorned in red velvet fabric. Is this how royalty dines everyday?

Before stopping yourself, you tug on the hem of Lee’s sleeve. He looks down at you and the concern in his expression almost makes your incoming words clog up your throat. It’s too all too much. He’s just too much.

“Lee… you didn’t hafta do all this.” You protest weakly.

Lee blinks at you, big eyes widening as he processes your remark.

“ ‘Course I did,” he says matter-of-factly. “You deserve it, princess. Now, let’s eat!”

He waits for you to release your hold. You let go of him, feeling your cheeks puff up in a small grin. He pulls back a chair, offering you your seat. You thank him once more as he steadily pushes your chair forward so you’re close enough to the table. He sits across from you while you shrug off your coat. 

After taking off his own jacket, he rolls up his sleeves and his forearms look delectable; the way his veins protrude as his muscles flex makes you imagine how they’d feel wrapped around your neck from behind as he p-

“Here are your menus,” Jeremy gives you each a fancy pamphlet listing all the available dishes and beverages. You both make sure to receive them with verbal gratitude and scan your options.

You want to pull out your phone so you can look up these Italian words, but you don’t want to violate the etiquette so you read the ingredients of each meal from the menu instead. Your eyes follow Lee’s confused ones, and hide a snort with your pamphlet when he asks the waiter what a certain meal is and completely butchers the pronunciation of the dish’s name.

After requesting your appetizers, you both wait patiently with a glass of wine in your hand and a glass of orange juice in Lee’s.

You raise your glass to the crease of your mouth, but something about Lee sitting prim and content with his orange juice peaks an interest within that urges you to indulge it.

“Not a fan of drinking?”

Lee lowers his glass at your question, swallowing a glob of spit to brace himself. Yes, he’s not obligated to answer that question and could just manage a way to politely change the subject. Or, he could tell the truth no matter how mercilessly his shame is clawing at his back. However, the sincerity behind the bleakness of his past sprouts in the form of a relaxed smile embellishing his features.

“I was an alcoholic,” Lee makes sure he’s loud enough so you can’t misconstrue the truth in his words. “Been sober for five years… going on six.”

Lee stares at you and waits. He waits for your reaction, your character, the potential volume of your heart. He sits and stares, looking for any judgment in your eyes. He knows how mature and grounded you are, Neji and Guy Sensei have helped him see those traits in admirable people. But you’re going to have to accept all of him if he’s going to give you all of him.

You turn your head, scanning the area for the nearest waiter. Luckily there’s one who’s an earshot away from you. To Lee’s confusion, you summon them for assistance.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Inquires the waiter.

“May I have a glass of orange juice, please? I’d like to return the wine.”

Lee’s eyes widen, wondering why his lungs no longer feel like they’re being buried by dumbbells. But rather, they feel like an inflated balloon, like a sky lantern floating gracefully into the atmosphere until they look like one of the infinite stars so impossibly far away. Except, you’re right in front of him.

“Yes, of course.” The waiter grabs the glass and bottle of Riesling, retreating to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” you mumble, mindlessly watching them walk away.

A heavy sigh pulls you from your trance. You turn your attention to the man before you, his chin resting on his palm while dreamily gazing at you.

“Why did you do that?” He blinks slowly, and the nonchalance of his grin almost perfectly masks his bewilderedness.

“Because I'm proud of you! Five years is no easy milestone.”

Lee leans back against his seat, carefully drinking in the subtle meekness in your eyes. Yes, you were a bit nervous, twiddling with your nails while wondering if the gesture you just pulled was really necessary.

“No one’s ever done something like that for me before. Thank you, angel.”

Lee raises his chin, briefly facing the decorated ceiling with his eyes closed while reveling in this moment you’ve blessed him with.

“Of course…!” You lean a tad bit forward, folding your hands on the dining table. “ You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. In body and spirit.”

A hearty chuckle slips through Lee’s lips, and the sound rumbles through your brain.

The waiter comes back with the orange juice and pours you a new drink. You thank them as they leave and raise your glass towards the man before you.

“To five years?” You prompt with a shy smile stretching your thick lips.

Lee straightens his posture, and reaches for his drink. He ascends the glass and clinks it gently against yours, the look on his face so relaxed and at peace. A quiet sombreness radiates from the satisfaction of this precious moment because of the unbearable days he had to bear just to experience it. And yet, that resentful trail of suffering led him to share an intimacy with someone he never ever thought he’d encounter. You are invaluable, and he’s gonna make sure you enjoy every second you spend with him.

“To five years.”

-

The ride back to your place is a bit noisier, y’all don’t sing this time but rather continue the intellectually fruitful and deeply polarizing conversations you shared back at the restaurant. So much depth:

“Fave powerpuff girl?”

Lee takes a shallow breath at your question, pondering on how to answer most truthfully.

“Y’know, quite a few people thought I liked Buttercup because we both have short black hair and our color is green but…” Lee kisses his teeth in thought while steadily swerving onto the next block..

“Bubble’s innocent naivety and relentless bliss always resonated with me,” he shrugs while looking ahead. “I wanted to be the ‘happiest citizen of Townsville’ for the sixth year in a row when I was a toddler.”

You snort, resting your elbow below the passenger window. “You know, she gets extremely aggressive when she’s mad though.”

“Another reason why I love her! She’s so underestimated as a fighter but is the most feared by Mojo Jojo himself.”

You loll your head in Lee’s direction. “Jojo is not a very impressive villain. I mean, you didn’t forget about HIM, did you?”

Lee catches a glimpse of how your pretty eyes slant a bit when you playfully smirk at him, an image he snapshots with his brain.

“Who can forget the most manipulative, morally inept character in that show? S’why he’s so interesting!”

“His fashion sense is interesting too,” you remark while recollecting the character’s iconic design. “Wanted to dress up as him for Halloween back in kindergarten.”

Lee bellows at the thought of a tiny version of you embellished in red crab hands and a pointy chin beard.  Shameless laughter has never sounded sexy to you. But after seeing his cheeks rise and eyes crinkle shut in hopeless glee; after seeing the way his sharp jaw falls open to let out that deep bass rumbling through the car. You want to make him do it again. You want to drink it in, to feel him do it again.

“You’d look so adorable,” he wheezes while resting his forehead against the wheel.

You try to ignore the effect he has on you. You try to ignore how contagious he is, but a few sniggers escape your lips in merry futility.

“Thank you…” you turn to look through your passenger window, taking in the streets and architecture that look more and more similar to your home as Lee drives by. 

“Your Bubbles cosplay would be quite convincing, if I do say so myself.” You add.

“Don't tempt me, princess.” Lee continues to look ahead, but you can see a sneer creep up his handsome features in a way that makes you cackle unabashedly.

-

“This is you, right?���

“Yep!”

Your date pulls up right in front of your apartment, and you reflect on your time with him while he unplugs the key from his car. You had so much fun; didn’t feel stressed in any way, you ate good, you learned so much more about Lee than you ever expected to; you secretly hope he knows more about you too.

Lee steps out of the car and opens your side of the door. He offers his hand for you to balance yourself as you step onto the jagged pavement. While nodding your head in gratitude, you feel your pores prick open at the rough texture of his palm. His fingers are solid and scarred, yet so soothingly warm just for you.

Before you take out your keys to unlock the gate, you turn to face the man’s chest before you. You look up to find those big eyes, and his gaze consumes you; he tucks his hands in his pockets, sighing as he stares lovingly at you; lidded eyes and a lazy smile, you got him on cloud nine. It gives you the urge to cower, but you don’t want to. The way he is looking at you right now, with such an undeniable bliss, urges you to face the fear. To judge yourself a little less. It’s quiet for a few moments, the both of you kinda just stare at each other but it’s comfortable. Not awkward, just the both of you. No one else. 

“I don’t want this night to end.” You pout, a little whine erupting in your throat.

Lee chuckles lowly at the adorable sight, quietly grateful that you show this side of yourself to him.

“It doesn’t have to,” his tender tone sugarcoats the fearless conviction in his words.

You briefly shut your eyes in a frown and take a deep breath. “Yes… yes it does.”

Lee’s smile doesn’t even falter, he’s simply grateful that you blessed him with your precious time and presence.

“Well,” he sighs. “I had a wonderful time with you. You’re wonderful, y’know that?” The bass in his voice rasps you away into the air while simultaneously grounding you. Your eyes drop to your heels so you can hide your silly grin. 

Lee takes a step closer, and he can smell the vanilla and honey wafting from your shiny coils. The warm cologne radiating from his body starts to insulate your own. His throat bobs with every subtle gulp, and you feel like taking a step back because it’s so much but not even close to enough.

A tiny gasp escapes your lips when Lee gently cups your chin with his hand, slowly tilting your head up so you can look him in the eyes. He tightens his grip on your cheeks, just enough to watch your lips squish cutely together.

“You know that, right sweetheart?” 

Oh. So it’s like that.

Didn’t take him for a fucking tease, you think.

“Right,” you whisper mindlessly. ”But if I’m so wonderful…”

 You gulp, “Then why don’t you kiss me already?”

Lee’s smirk grows back. There you go, he thinks. Demand what’s yours.

The man before you swipes a careful thumb over your bottom lip before dragging his other fingertips across your cheek. He caresses the smooth skin before gripping the back of your neck, and pulls you in.

Your hands instinctively find their place on his chest to brace yourself.

His mouth hovers just a stray hair from yours, and you can feel his minty breath set your goosebumps aflame. He languidly plants his lips onto your plush ones, groaning at how pillowy they are. Lee shamelessly expressing how good you make him feel makes you squirm slightly against his hold. He slowly snakes an arm around the small of your back, tugging you closer until your torsos press together. His hands massage your waist and upper back while holding you, appreciating as much of your body as he can. The print of his abs poke your soft tummy through his shirt and you melt against him, letting your shaky hands run up his chest until they grasp onto the junction between his neck and shoulders. Lee angles his head to deepen the kiss, your breaths get heavier and you start panting at how overwhelming he’s being.

He loosens his jaw to lick a teasing stripe up the corner of your lips, silently requesting more access which goes straight to your poor pussy. Your tongues mold together, muffling the pathetic whimpers that escape your mouth and Lee swallows the delectable sound. It’s filthy... You love it so much.

You haven’t been kissed like this in at least three years, don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore. You feel like this man’s delving into your soul, peeling you layer by layer with just his mouth. You can only imagine a pleasure that the rest of his body would drown you in.

You start feeling antsy, like if you don’t stop now Lee will take you to a corner store for some plan b. You scream inwardly, knowing you’ll be fucking your toy until its battery dies instead when you go upstairs. So you gently shove him away, causing your spit-slicked lips to separate with a lewd ‘pop’. Lee releases your waist, watching you inhale deeply as you awkwardly button his suit jacket.

“See you at the dojo. And get home safely,” you whisper with a tight smile, patting his chest conclusively before walking to your gate. The jingling of your keys snaps Lee out of his trance, a meek little “I will” tumbling from his lips before he retreats back into his vehicle.

Lee runs a tired hand through his black strands, lazily holding some hair in his fist while replaying his new three months worth of daydreaming fantasies. God you’re so divine to him; your lips are divine, the way your eyebrows scrunched together when he tongue-fucked your mouth was divine, how your tits pressed against him when he held you was divine, your needy voice when he french kissed you just how you like was divine. And the way Lee looks down to see a tent in his pants- beads of precum seeping into the fabric- harbors peak divinity.

-

You open your apartment door, catching Bria snuggling with your Kuromi in a blissful slumber. After closing the door behind you, you kick off your heels and pad your way to your bedroom. You decide to sleep naked tonight, chilling under your comforter while scrolling through Instagram.

Your phone vibrates and Temari’s caller ID pops up on your screen.

I haven’t heard from her in a while, you wonder. How’s she been doing?

You answer.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[skoulsons]

-Spoilers for end of tlou1 in the last paragraph-

Love isn’t a feeling. If it was, none of us would truly love anything. If we base it off of only feelings, then we wouldn’t love our spouse, parents, siblings, or friends. Those butterflies fade. That giddiness with that person will ebb and flow. Arguments and disagreements come up; and the second they do, people leave. Because they’re relying on how this person occasionally makes their heart flutter.

Love is in actions. Love is in the commitment to that person or group of people. It’s how you treat them. Through arguments, disagreements, heartbreak, anger, hormones, moods, and whatever other circumstance, you love them. You stick by their side and they stick by yours. Love is sacrifice. Sacrificing your needs for them and them for yours. Love is forever.

And this is exactly Joel and Ellie. It’s their sacrifices. Their commitment to each other, true commitment. Their actions toward the other, especially in terms of protecting the other. Joel giving up his nights rest to watch over her. Ellie waking up early and letting him have his much needed rest while she watches over him. How he tells her to hide during the ambush and he kills the hunters and finishes Bryan off so she doesn’t have to. When the infected were attacking and he wordlessly protected her like he trained his entire life to do just that. How Ellie will protect him through Winter without ever griping. Because she loves him. She loves him in the big, fast paced moments. In their adrenaline, running and hiding, but also in the small moments. Their nights, days of teaching her survival techniques, and especially now. These moments where he is dependent on her. And how she tries, just as he’s done for her, because she loves him.

And how, in the end, he will save her. He will doom the earth to save the world. That girl. How he will kill every single person in his way because they’re going to take her away from him. He sacrifices the chance for the world to go back to the way it was. He sacrifices the integrity of their relationship just so she can live. So that he can continue to protect, provide, and care for. So he can continue his commitment to her. So that he can continue to love her

[bitalis]

finding a tiktok that said s2 of arcane is coming out next year like idk the mutuals didn’t scream to me so

[sahkuna]

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?” 

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere. 

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation. 

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows. 

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.” 

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today. 

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!” 

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him. 

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot. 

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it. 

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.  

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side. 

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own. 

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.  

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner. 

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened??? 

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009 

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school. 

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently. 

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow. 

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you. 

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro. 

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!” 

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there. 

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes. 

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right? 

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the  Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.  

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be. 

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now. 

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again. 

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person. 

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

 He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!” 

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake. 

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre. 

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him. 

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt. 

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject. 

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot. 

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it). 

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute. 

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement.  “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal. 

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear. 

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means. 

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him. 

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line. 

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes. 

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.” 

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in. 

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?” 

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone. 

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

 Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars. 

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning. 

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours. 

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly. 

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot. 

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!” 

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read this far, we're fucking making out.

[tuulikki]

The thing is that the portrayal of Neanderthals as having been inherently grotesque and alien to H. sapiens is something we will never have proof of. But we do have proof that, in different locations and in different populations across time, we all found eachother desirable. We saw eachother and wanted to touch. And the offspring were held by their mothers and raised and had their own offspring in turn.

When you look for the first proof that H. sapiens found Neanderthals repulsive, you have to wait until the Victorian era, when the white masters of empires were busy portraying Neanderthals as stupid, brutish, and (of course) dark-skinned.

In more modern times, we’ve had people arguing that instead of seeing Neanderthals as Benighted Savages, they should instead be seen as Noble Savages, (allegedly) cruelly destroyed and driven from their lands by H. sapiens. Which one of their two you believe says more about your modern political views than it does about ancient H. sapiens.

And, whether we construct Neanderthals as Savage or Noble Savage, the fundamental assumption we project into the unfathomably distant past is still that H. sapiens saw Neanderthals as an Other, with the language we use being almost explicitly that of modern racial dynamics.

But we have no proof of any of that. We have no proof of hostilities. We know we co-existed and we had sex. That’s it.

Humans obviously have sex with some humans and kill others. We also know that, when small groups of humans occupy vast spaces with infrequent contact with others, unique cultures will always form, some more hospitable, some more neophobic/xenophobic. But many cultures of small settlements placed among huge unpeopled landscapes place supreme emphasis on hospitality to strangers. Plus, we fucking love other social animals, as evidenced by how we befriended wolves.

I’m a humourless weirdo and a wet blanket about popular constructions of Neanderthals as “monstrous”, and I freely admit it. But that’s because it’s tied up in legacies of imperialism. Not only that, but it also privileges one culture (yours, mine, modernity’s) as being most human by implicitly assuming we can project it onto people in the past. Since you don’t pretend that all global cultures share exact same values as you do, it doesn’t take more than a few moments’ reflection to realise you can’t do that to the past.

[belovedmusings]

Am I Playing All Right Now?

Kento Nanami x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Kento Nanami has been your respectful, loving boyfriend for two months now. All you’ve done so far is kiss, and you want more with him. He refuses for your sake, warning of his roughness. So, you take matters into your own hands and convince him to put in ‘just the tip’. 

Relevant tags: just the tip challenge, dom! Kento Nanami, clothed sex, couch sex, clit slapping, brief use of leather belt, hard and rough sex, doggy-style, hair pulling, manhandling, big dick-Nanami <3, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, creampie, I don't use "y/n" for immersion

Music recommended while reading: Dollhouse (The Weekend, Lily Rose Depp, …baby one more time (The Marias), Like U (Rosenfeld)

A/N: this is filthy and I love it, my first Nanami piece <3 enjoy!! (Read on Ao3 if you prefer!)

Read below cut:

The night had gone great. You two had a fantastic dinner at a fine restaurant, and now you’re at his house, getting hot and heavy on the couch. You’re sat in his lap, straddling his waist, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs as the fabric gives to accommodate him between your legs. Your hands are running over the muscles of his chest, only the thin layer of his dress shirt between your touch and his skin. His palms are on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that you can feel the blunt heat of his hard cock beneath the confines of his slacks. 

You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins–tonight is the night. Every time you two get close to having sex, he pulls away, saying he isn’t ready, but right now it feels so different, so electric–

He hums, punctuating the kiss and pulling back, giving you room to breathe. Your stomach sinks, no, this isn’t what you want, you want–

“We should stop here for the night,” He murmurs, and you look into his eyes, a frown tugging your lips down at their corners. 

“But you’re hard,” You protest, “Kento, please…we’ve waited long enough, and you clearly want this…”

His jaw tightens as he takes a breath. “I do…but we can’t.”

Now you’re just confused. “...can’t?”

He sighs heavily, giving you no explanation, but nodding. “Now, let’s m–”

“No, hold on,” You interrupt him, “Kento, tell me why? I-is it me? Do you…not want…?”

“It’s definitely not you,” He dispels quickly, “It’s me, okay?”

“What about you?” You press, searching his eyes. “Is it…are you…worried about your performance?”

That gets him to widen his eyes a fraction in surprise. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s…alright, look, it’s…it’s that I don’t want to hurt you.”

It isn’t enough of an answer for you. “And…what do you mean by that?”

“You…you know me to be this nice, gentlemanly man, don’t you?” He asks, a sort of resigned weight to his eyes. “Which, I am. But not when it comes to sex.”

The wheels turn in your head. “So…you’re…?”

“I’m rough,” He finally states, “And it’s…it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m afraid to hurt you or scare you away. Of course I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but…you just seem so sweet and–”

“Woah,” You stop him in the middle of his sentence. “Do you think you’re the only one with duality? You don’t think I can be different in bed? Do you think I’m some porcelain doll you’ll break if you’re not careful?”

He considers this for a moment before sighing. “You don’t understand.”

“So then make me understand,” You challenge him, running your hands up his chest. “Please, Kento. I can take it.”

“No,” He denies, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Seeing his hesitance, you decide to switch tactics. You reach for his hands on your waist, taking his wrists and raising his palms up to the front of your dress. You guide them to rest over your breasts, allowing him to touch them through the thin cloth. You’d decided not to wear a bra for the night since the article had thin straps, and he immediately can feel that, a flash of desire flitting within his eyes.

Riding the wave of his interest, you tell him, “I want you bad, Kento.”

He inhales forcefully, allowing himself to knead the soft flesh beneath his hands. His thumbs graze over your hardening nipples, your teeth dragging over your bottom lip instinctively. To drive your point home, you grind down on him, the only thing on beneath your dress being the panties you’d hoped he’d see when you had put them on earlier in the day.

“You’re playing dangerous,” He warns, voice thin and strained. 

“Maybe I want dangerous.”

He finally lets out a groan, surging forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. It’s more forceful this time, and all you can do is give complete control to him. 

He flips your positions so smoothly, you hardly feel it; you just suddenly feel your back hit the cushion of his couch, a gasp pushed from your mouth. His hands make quick work sliding up your dress, fingers hooking underneath your waistband.

Kento speaks against your mouth lowly. “Lace?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Expensive?”

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, no, not r–”

A swift, harsh tug and the sound of fabric ripping later, he holds the scrap lace in his hand, now mangled and unusable. He just tore them clean off.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, now suddenly aware of how bare you are beneath your dress. He must become aware of that fact too, because without a moment to spare, he’s pushing the article up to your waist, exposing you to his eyes. A rosy flush spreads over the bridge of your nose as he looks at your naked lower half unabashedly, a type of hunger you have never seen before nor known he was capable of in his eyes.

He tosses your ruined panties to the floor and fiddles with his belt, undoing the buckle. Your gaze follows his movements, watching his hands expertly tug the leather strap from its loops in his pants.

Then, he surprises you by holding the edge without the buckle and running it along your inner thigh. You shiver, observing him and wondering what his next move will be. He runs it all the way up, reaching the apex of your leg and placing it right over your mound. The cool leather feels unfamiliar there.

“Can I?”

Your attention is pulled to his voice, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he means. Then it dawns on you.

Oh.

No one’s ever done that to you. But…you aren’t opposed. You’re curious.

You nod.

“Words.”

Oh, damn.

“Yes, you can.”

“Good girl.”

You don’t have time to pay attention to the rush of hormones that praise gives you, because a harsh sting of pleasure suddenly hits your senses as he brings the end of the belt down, slapping your clit with it.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, shock, arousal, and fascination flooding you all at once.

“How was that?” He asks, watching you carefully. You take stock of yourself…and are intrigued to find that you liked it. As soon as you realize that, you understand that Kento is about to show you an entire new world previously unexplored to you.

Your eyes lock with his. “It was good.”

A mixture of relief and desire swarm his gaze. “You liked that?”

“Yeah.”

Without warning, he does it again, a little harder, and you cry out this time, unused to the strangely welcome sensation.

“Still good?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Your next breath is shaky. “More.”

He wastes no time in delivering exactly what you want. Over and over again, until your pearl is red and swollen and the folds beneath are glistening with need, belt shiny with a bit of it. He stops once you reach this state, making sure you see as he licks it off the belt. Your lips part, entranced, and he drops the accessory, instead moving to undo the front of his slacks. Your heart begins racing–but then he pauses, seeming to deflate slightly.

“I’m not gonna go all the way,” He states, “I don’t have condoms.”

“What?” Your voice is more than a little indignant. “But…how?”

“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.”

He pulls his cock from its restriction in his briefs, pushing his waistbands down to the tops of his thighs, and the sight of the thick, red shaft as your mouth watering and your core pulsing around nothing. 

You think he’s changed his mind as he lines it up, but then he just glides it against your folds, coating it in your essence and using it to rub against you, the feeling intense due to the sensitivity of your previously abused clit, but not what you crave.

“Kento,” You whimper, watching him rub himself off as he plays with you using his cock. “Please…”

“We’re not risking a pregnancy,” He maintains, “It’s not wise.”

You are beyond frustrated at this point, entrance weeping for attention, and you swear the desire is so bad you can feel your entire core sore and empty, vying to be filled and stretched.

What can you say that will get him to do it, even just a little bit?

Wait. Just a little bit.

“What about just the tip?”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“Just the tip,” it comes out needier than you had intended, but god damn it you’re horny and all out of shame twice over.

Kento takes a good look at you, at himself and the position you’re in, sucking in a controlled breath for the umpth time that night.

Then, he lines up again, cockhead pressing against your entrance. “You’re going to regret asking for it.”

Is he challenging you? Whatever. What. Ever. You’ve reached a point where if you don’t get his cock soon your heart may actually give out. 

“Let me decide that.”

His jaw sets tightly before finally, finally, he cants his hips forward, pushing the tip of his shaft inside of you. 

As soon as it’s in, your head falls back on the couch, hips starting to roll without your permission. Your body wants him all on its own, and you’re no longer in command of it. He groans, pulling out and then pushing it back in, only the tip again, and you whimper in half bliss and half frustration.

You want more. 

You understand the true meaning of temptation now. You’ve had the first bite of the proverbial apple, and it’s shocking how eager you are to devour the rest to its core.

Everytime he pushes in, never going past the smooth head of his cock, you moan, wordlessly begging for more. There’s a worry in his brow and a tenseness to his jaw that indicates just how much self-control he’s exercising, and as you look up at him, you realize he’s still pretty much fully clothed—his tie is pristine around his neck, shirt fully buttoned up, only his dick out and vulnerable to your eyes. 

It’s unfair, and you seek to change that.

Your hand loops into his tie and yanks him down by it, taking him by surprise. He has to catch himself on his hands to avoid falling on you, a grunt escaping his lips as it causes him to slide further into you.

In a lowered hiss, he asks you, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The tone is so vindictive it has any words dying on your tongue. All it takes is a moment before he’s forcefully breathing out and lifting himself off of you, cock withdrawing from between your legs.

You open your mouth to protest, and that’s when your world spins. 

You were face up, but now you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, having to brace yourself as he manhandles you silently. There’s not even a moment for you to acclimate to your new position before you feel his fingers loop through your hair as you’d done to his belt, and in one motion, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams all the way into you, pulling your hair back hard to make you arch for him.

A loud cry splits through the air and it’s only when he starts repeatedly fucking hard and fast into you with the entirety of his monstrous size that you realize the sound was from you.

“See what happens when you push me?” His voice is hoarse and gritty, more like a growl than a whisper, a dull ache inside of you where he’s currently remolding the shape of your walls.

All you can do is make incoherent noises, and you aren’t sure whether they’re from pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both. His grip on your hair isn’t letting up and it hurts, but you’ve also never felt so completely out of control of yourself and somehow it just feels freeing to you. 

“Huh?” He asks, and it’s then you realize you never replies to him verbally. You muster up the strength to speak.

“Y-yeah…” it sounds breathy and whiney, completely foreign in the contours of your voice.

“You happy now? Happy you got me to fuck you like the greedy whore you are?”

The harsh word ripples through you hotly and you moan, nodding as good as you can. “Yes…”

“Yes?” He asks, breathless, and he lets go of your hair in favor of wrapping his hand around your neck from behind. “You like being screwed like a whore?”

Apparently, you do. This is new information to you as well. You nod, gasping as he grabs your hand and presses it over your abdomen, where you can feel the flesh rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Feel that?” He asks, “that’s me inside of you.”

“Oh god,” You rasp, the knowledge of him so deep inside your body going right to your head. You can feel your mound weeping all over yours and his thighs, the wet slap tell-tale of just how much you’re enjoying this. Just the realization has you fluttering around him, a sensation that isn’t lost on him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You really do like this, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, yes, Kento…”

He groans, leaning forward and kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, brushing your hair out of the way. 

“Such a good girl for me…my good little slut.”

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he speeds his movements up, the hand that was pressing yours to your stomach moving down to the slippery mess that is your swollen clit.

The big palm of his on your neck slides the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders and dips into the neckline of it, grasping your breast as if to claim ownership of it. 

“Oh my god,” You breathe again, hips twitching at all of the stimulation, face hot, entrance thoroughly fucked open and sloppy, debauched by Kento like a destructive form of artwork.

His middle finger massages circles into your sensitive pearl as he continues the grueling pace of his hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck, and all at once it becomes too much.

It crashes into you like the unforgiving wave of the raging ocean, sweeping you into the depths of pleasure.

You cum so hard on his cock he physically has to stop moving, your hold on him so tight he’s locked inside of you. That’s the moment that he follows, spilling his pent up, heavy load into you with a hiss of pleasure. 

Your arms and knees feel like jelly. Your walls are sore and throbbing, completely exhausted from his ravaging. But all you feel is feather-light. Finally, finally you did it. And it was better than your wildest imagination.

Lips place a tender kiss on your shoulder, his labored breaths slowing back to regulation. You feel his cheek rest upon the skin of your upper back. Both of his hands massaging along the sides of your hips.

“I’m sorry we waited so long. I just figured it would be too intense for you.”

You shake your head, turning it to look back at him as he straightens up and carefully pulls out. 

“Don’t do that again.”

The corner of his lips turns up slightly. “Oh no, I won’t make that mistake twice. In fact…there’s something else I want to do now.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to test your limits.”

__

A/N: here's my Nanami masterlist :) this is the first piece but lmk what else you want me to write for him! Hope you enjoyed.

[smallndsoft]

tw: somnophilia

i’ve had to work late for the past few nights and that means i’ve gotten less time with you.

like the last night and the night before that, i get home late again. all the lights are out as i pull my truck into the driveway.

i let out a long sigh as i open the driver door. dragging myself up the driveway, i unlock the door and open it as quietly as i can.

“fucking hell,” i mumble to myself as the screen door squeaks. i’ve been meaning to oil the hinges so it won’t make any noise, but i haven’t had time. maybe tomorrow.

my eyes are somewhat adjusted to the pitch dark house as i drop my keys on the table by the door. i walk down the hallway and into our bedroom.

kicking my shoes off by the doorway, i smile tiredly at your sleeping figure splayed out in bed. the covers are barely on your body, only covering up to your ass.

“thank god you don’t like wearing clothes when you sleep,” i mumble as i strip my shirt and work pants off.

leaving my boxers on, i slip into bed beside you. the bed creaks just a bit but it’s not enough to wake you up. i lean over and press a gentle kiss to the back of your head, inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo.

you look so peaceful, your bare back and your smooth ass on perfect display. my hand gently traces down your spine and lands just below the curve of your ass.

i grab you, kneading the smooth flesh there. you barely stir from this, only stretching out more for me. almost instinctively.

i had no intentions of doing anything tonight. i’m so damn tired and you’re already fast asleep, but the way you’re spread out for me is an invitation i can’t pass up.

scooting close to you, i throw my right leg over your left, spreading you out just a little more. my hand trails down further, my fingers barely touching your puckered hole before they rest on your cunt.

“oh bunny,” i breathe out, a small smile on my lips. “were you waiting for me?”

you’re dripping wet, indicating that you fell asleep playing with yourself, too tired to finish and too tired to wait for me to help you.

“that’s okay. i’m here now,” i whisper against your skin, my lips tracing against your upper back.

i let a strangled breath out as i slip my boxers off. tossing them carelessly onto the floor, i crawl over you.

“oh fuck,” i moan out. i rub my cock between your ass before i sit back, positioning myself at the entrance of your cunt.

i’m already panting despite not even having entered you yet. i lick my lips and stroke myself a few times before i slowly push into your went cunt.

it’s tight, but the way your sleeping figure is swallowing my cock sends my thoughts spinning. i have to close my eyes despite the darkness.

i keep pushing until i feel my hips pressed against your ass. i stay still for a moment, letting myself take a few deep breaths before i start to slowly thrust.

it’s been days since we’ve fucked but it feels like months. “fuck i’ve missed this, bunny,” i mumble.

i start slow, my grasp on your hips gentle as the soft sounds of my hips hitting your ass fill our bedroom.

after a few more gentle thrusts, i need more. the primal urge to fuck you and fill you is too much.

all at once, my grip on your hips tightens and i start to thrust faster and harder. the sounds of skin on skin becomes louder and more lewd.

a thin layer of sweat forms on my forehead as i use your body for my pleasure.

surprised that you’ve stayed asleep this long, i chuckle softly when you start to shift. i feel your cunt squeezing my cock, signaling that you’re starting to become aware of the situation.

“shhh. you’re okay, bunny,” i whisper as i keep ramming into you.

you don’t bother trying to look back at me as i thrust into your tight hole. burying your face into your pillow, i smile as moans and whimpers spill from your lips.

“need you so bad, baby. i’ve missed you so much,” i pant out.

the tension in my lower belly builds quickly. any other day and i’d be embarrassed that i’m on the verge of cumming. since i’ve not fucked you in days, i feel less embarrassment.

“fuck fuck fuck,” i chant out, my grip on your waist tightening as i get closer to the edge.

“i’m gonna fill you up. gonna take my load like a good bunny, right?” i grunt out.

you just give me a dazed, half-awake nod as you clutch onto your pillow.

the sight is everything i’ve wanted to see these past few days and despite the exhaustion i feel, all that’s on my mind is filling you. breeding you.

“oh fu-uck,” i moan out. in an instant, my body stiffens, my hips flush against you as i feel my orgasm ripple through me. “shit, bunny. take my cum. fuck.”

a shiver rolls through me as i dump the last few drops of my load into you. breathing heavily, i let go of your hips. i keep my cock firmly inside you as i lay on my side, pulling you flush against me.

my cock is twitching inside of you still but i keep lazily thrusting inside you, just wanting to feel as much of your tight heat as i can.

“go back to sleep, bunny. i need to use your little holes a few more times.”

[fangirl-dot-com]

😾Really Nice Guy Who Hates Only You

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Celebrity!Reader Genre: Fluff/Miscommunication/Humor/SMAU Summary: Oscar was known to be the epitome of a polite cat. His reputation is that he is genuinely nice to everyone. Well, everyone except for you.

*once again, I have loved writing for this series and it seems like everyone loves these chapters (as they have the highest notes out of all of them). I'm really excited for what is to come! I have loved making all the special tweets and other additions to the posts!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Oscar had been in a bad mood. The garage could practically feel the cloud that surrounded the Aussie as he walked through the garage on Saturday morning for the sprint. The scrunch of the nose and the constant side eyes also gave it away. 

Normally, Oscar tends to be more on the quiet side. But today, he was even quieter. Gone was the polite cat, and it was replaced by a very grumpy feline. 

“Hey Oscar! Come meet our guests!” 

Oscar let out a sigh as he turned around and put a very fake smile on his face. This is the moment he had been dreading ever since you stepped into the garage. He did, or couldn’t, understand why you were wearing his number on the back of the jersey you wore. 

It disgusted him. 

You were very pretty though, he had eyes. Your hair went very well with the papaya orang and your smile could pretty much kill a man in a 10-foot radius. Except that right now, Oscar wanted your perfect hair to catch on fire and he’d avoid the smile. 

When he finally got closer, he stopped a few feet in front of you, not wanting to get too close. Two hands clapped him on the shoulders as Lando started to shake him. 

“So Os-cah, this is Y/n L/n, 2-time Grammy Award winner and probably the prettiest guest we’ve ever had.” 

All right, so Lando was a gonner.

Oscar fought the urge to roll his eyes right into the back of his head so he wouldn’t have to look at you anymore. But your smile was oh-so pretty. You looked at him with wide eyes as you held out your hand for a shake. 

However, Oscar just looked at it, then looked at you. 

“Welcome.”

Lando reeled back, confused at his younger teammate’s coldness. The two watched as your smile faltered just a bit. (If Oscar had any remorse, he didn’t show it.) You were quick to recover and spread another smile, even if this one wasn’t as real as the first. 

You put your hand down as you greeted, “It’s such an honor to finally meet you! I’ve been a fan for what feels like forever.” 

Oscar grunted. “Can’t say the same.” 

You absolutely wanted to whimper. You had been waiting to be invited to a Formula 1 garage ever since you won your first Grammy. And well, you had other offers from Red Bull or Ferrari, but the McLaren garage is the one you wanted to be your first. So, you had declined and declined until you knew that you could meet the driver that you had been following for so long. 

But now that you finally met him, you wondered why he was such an asshole. 

You pushed down your feelings and continued. “That’s ok. My music isn’t for everyone. But I wanted to congratulate you on your rookie season last year!” 

“Thanks.” 

Ok, Lando knew something was up and he couldn’t take the hurt-puppy-eyes coming from you anymore. The Briton was about to say something, but Zak had decided to interrupt with another celebrity guest. 

“Guys, this is Sabrina, she’s also joining Miss L/n in the garage today. Ladies, we have two headsets for you in the back when we’ll go over some last minute car things if you’d like to listen in!” Zak explained. 

It only hurt when Oscar eyes lit up at your fellow musician, brushing past you to personally introduce himself. Lando was now left with a very sad Grammy winner on his hands. He gently put his arm around your waist to bring you to the side.

When a long sigh escaped your lips, Lando felt awful. 

“Y/n, I swear he’s normally the nicest person on the planet. Oscar always seems to love everyone, no matter the guest.” 

Your eyes flitted over to where Oscar was now animatedly talking to Sabrina about her new album. You let out a scoff. 

“Yeah, everyone but me. Maybe I should have just taken the offer from Red Bull or Ferrari.” 

Lando pouted. He knew that you had been a fan of Oscar’s way back to the start of his F2 season. And then you had purposefully put the word McLaren in many different songs. Hell, your newest album titled “Momentum” was basically a love letter to your beloved team. You even had plans to become an investor once you could make the first payment. 

The Briton felt lost. “I was going to find Max and Charles if you’d like to join me?” 

You took one more look at Oscar, not surprised to see him glare at you from the side. That action made up your mind and you agreed to go with Lando. 

Taking with Max and Charles was like a breath of fresh air. The two were great conversationalists and pretty funny. The Monegasque even invited you into one of the media buildings to look at the behind the scenes, which put you in awe. 

The two rivals, thought, couldn’t understand why you were attached to Lando when you had a giant 81 on the back of your jersey. 

“Have you met Oscar yet?” Charles asked. When you tensed, he knew that he had asked a wrong question. Your expression quickly became sad. 

“Yeah. But I don’t think he likes me very much,” you muttered. 

Max scoffed. “That’s absurd. He’s quiet, but he’s nice to everyone.” 

Lando winced. “But for some reason, he was being really rude and just standoff-ish.”  

You looked so dejected. “At first I thought he might not be a fan of my music, but then he was super smiley with Sabrina and we co-wrote most of mine and her songs. So it’s not the genre.” 

The Briton wanted to try to bring your spirits back up, but he noticed the time and said that you and him had to be back at the garage. You said your goodbyes to the Dutchman and Monegasque before you followed Lando back to the garage. 

On your way in, Oscar sent you yet another glare as he got ready to be in the car. 

Although he had been mean, you still said, “Good luck.” 

Maybe he heard you or didn’t, but he never responded or acted like he took it to heart. 

When Oscar was able to overtake multiple cars and finish the sprint in P2, you were ecstatic. His terrible attitude did not hinder your joy for the Aussie. You didn’t secretly call yourself the #1-Piastri fan for nothing. Sabrina laughed next to you as you hopped up and down, glad that your driver finished well in the points. 

It was sad for Lando who didn’t make it past P5, but the Briton explained that qualifying for the actual race is when it truly counted. 

You watched with stars in your eyes as Oscar walked up after Charles to be interviewed by Jensen Button. 

The former driver asked the first question. 

“Oscar, first congrats on the P2, you did a lot of overtaking. Was that in the strategy?” 

The Aussie laughed, really showing that he indeed was polite to everyone. 

“Well the strategy is always to win, but we were close with all the upgrades. It’s been good and I’m ready for the races to come.” 

A few more questions were asked and exchanged before Jensen somehow brought you up. 

“So we saw that Y/n L/n and Sabrina Carpenter were both in the McLaren garage. And we all know that Y/n is a massive McLaren fan as well as your fan. Have you listen to any of her songs?”

Many people definitely saw the change in facial expression when your name was brought up. The smiley Oscar was replaced with a bored one. 

“Well, I don’t really listen to artists who bash or make fun of my driving.” 

Jensen gave me a very curious look. “She actually praises you in most of her songs.” 

The Aussie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like the one where she said she crashed her McLaren like Piastri.” 

Your eyes widened, along with everyone else in the garage. Those were definitely not the lyrics to one of your songs. Lando also had wide eyes and he was looking right at you, who seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. 

“I would never do that,” you said, looking into Lando’s hazel eyes. The Briton looked puzzled. He had specifically played or sung songs for the Aussie that mentioned McLaren or Oscar. 

You kind of just sank into the background, trying to process what could have gone wrong. Lando on the other hand raced to catch Oscar as he was walking into the garage.

“Mate, what are you doing?” Oscar asked as Lando was directing him to one of the driver rooms. Lando slammed the door and turned to Oscar. 

“What are the lyrics to Y/n’s song?” 

There was another eye roll. “Lando you sung them to me like two weeks ago.” 

Land shook his head. “But tell me.” 

Oscar huffed, “Small talk, big love. Act like you don’t care but I disagree. When I crashed my McLaren like Piastri.” 

“Stop!” 

The Aussie cocked his head. 

Lando continued, “Those aren’t the lyrics you muppet. It’s ‘When I crashed my McLaren like past me.’ A few years ago, Y/n used to wreck a lot of cars at a teen. She got better and decided to buy a McLaren when your seat was announced for 2023. And then she crashed it on accident after she got broken up with.” 

A look of realization washed over Oscar’s face and then a look of dread. A giant sigh left his lips. Lando thought he was going to pass out or something but the second Papaya driver quickly ran out of the room. He stopped short of where you had sat in the back of the garage and quietly started to step closer. 

Your head was in your hands but you looked up when you heard footsteps. You were shocked to be looking at Oscar, who had a guilty look on his face. You shot up out of your seat and began to ramble. 

“Oscar, I swear, I would never back and diss you in any of my songs. You’re truly my favorite driver and I was so excited to meet you. I have put your name in my songs before, but it’s only been praise. I’m so sorry that you’ve been thinking that I’d make fun of your driving and-“ 

Oscar held out a hand to stop you. 

But now it was his turn to ramble, hands flying everywhere. 

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry. I’ve been an utter asshole to you all day. That was horrible of me. Lando sung me the song a few weeks ago, but it was pretty mumbled because he couldn’t remember some of the words and I heard Piastri instead of past me and I just thought the worst and…” 

Lando was having a field day watching you watch Oscar with stars in your eyes as he apologized over and over again. 

The Briton pretended to dust his hands off as he watched Oscar pull out his phone and offer it to you. 

“Another day, another matchmaking completed.”  

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_l/n thank you so much McLaren for the amazing day today! It was truly a dream come true to meet my all time favorite driver! little surprise for everyone else - Florida is yours (inspired by a special someone) 🧡

liked by mclaren, its_papaya, oscarpiastri, landoscar, and 3,205,195 others

queeny/n OH MY GOSH NEW SONG AFTER THE MIAMI RACE??

y/n&f1 wouldn't the song be written for Logan then?

y/nxoscar she said inspired - didn't mean that it's actually about him

oscah81 P2 SPRINT RACE AND POSSIBLE NEW WAG

landonorris I too would like a song pls

charles_leclerc we all know she wrote golden about me ♥️

maxverstappen1 I claim midnight rain then

landonorris ☹️

y/n_l/n it's ok lando - working on one now!

y/nsgrammy to think that Oscar thought she dissed him when she's like his biggest fan ever

oscargirlie y/n get's us with the second picture

oscarpiastri was the second picture necessary? and Florida? when did you have time to write that??

y/n_l/n 1. yes, it was very necessary, 2. I wrote it when you ignored me

oscarpiastri and you still wrote me a song?

y/n_l/n of course! most of my songs had you written in mind ☺️

oscarpiastri so. . . dress?

y/n_l/n 😳🤭

loscar-land your honor I love them

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[fastandcarlos]

Leo’s Little Love : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: the birth of your daughter was supposed to be the happiest moment for you and charles, but both of you forgot about leo too

Your little family had almost been complete for quite some time. You, Charles and Leo. The perfect trio. Why fix something that isn’t broke? Why add to the chaos of your crazy lives? Well, because you both couldn’t wait to become parents. 

It never was meant to be so soon, neither you or Charles had planned to fall pregnant quite so suddenly but your life had always been mayhem, and pregnancy was just another cog to add to the wheel of things that you needed to juggle together.  

It had been touch and go for quite some time as your baby’s arrival loomed. With just two weeks to go Charles had never been happier to see the start of the summer break which meant at last he could be glued to your side and be there just in case anything happened. 

Being at home was something that Charles very quickly got used to, laid out on the sofa with you tucked into his side. Charles didn’t always get his own way though, with Leo snuggled just underneath your bump to block Charles holding onto it. 

“I wonder how he’s going to be.” 

Your attention was pulled from your book when Charles spoke, following his gaze down to where Leo laid, snoring lightly with his eyes tight shut. 

“What do you mean?” You asked him. 

“I’m just thinking about when the baby arrives, do you think Leo will respond well to not being the centre of our attention anymore?” Charles questioned. 

Your eyes flickered between Charles and Leo and your bump as you pondered Charles’ question. Truthfully, it was something that you had never quite thought about before, but if there was one word that you’d use to describe Leo, it was definitely needy.  

“I think he’ll enjoy having someone else to be around,” you spoke after a few moments. 

“He’ll definitely love an extra body to cuddle up to.” 

It was almost as if he knew that you were talking about him, as Leo’s head lifted up and his wide eyes looked at you both as if to remind you that he could hear everything.  

“You know, I’ve got a feeling that Leo and this baby might just end up being the best of friends, I definitely think we’re going to have trouble on our hands.” 

Ever since that conversation you pictured how your family, or especially Leo, would adapt to the baby, counting down the days until all those dream scenarios became a reality.  

And just a couple of weeks later your little girl arrived. It was tougher than you could have ever imagined, but with Charles not leaving your side for the many hours that you were in labour for, your family was soon complete. Charles was an emotional mess beside you, but through his tears he knew that he’d just experienced the best moments of his entire life. 

You might’ve been a little bit bias, but your baby girl was the definition of perfect. Straight away you were drawn to her bright eyes, a striking resemblance to Charles’. They captured your attention, just like Charles’ had done many years ago when the two of you first met.  

And as Charles held her for the first time and you got your first look at the two of them side by side, you knew you had a daddy’s girl on your hands. She was instantly besotted, settled and comfortable in Charles’ strong hold, almost as if you were the one who was intruding on the moment between your husband and your child despite being the one to bring her into the world. 

“It’s a good job we’ve got Leo otherwise I think I’d be outnumbered at home with you two,” you joked as Charles made himself comfortable.  

You knew deep down though you wouldn’t have Leo for long, as the two of you arrived home with your daughter. It had been a couple of days since he got to see you and Charles, unaware that a new arrival was waiting on the other side of the door to greet him too. 

Together you took things slowly as you returned to your apartment, Charles took Leo into your bedroom whilst you settled in the living room with your daughter. Once you were sure that she was settled you called through to Charles who poked his head out from behind the bedroom door. 

“Are you absolutely sure about doing this now?” Charles nervously asked you. 

“Charles, we’re going to have to do it sooner or later. We might as well get it over with whilst they’re both pretty settled.” 

He trusted you more than anyone, and so Charles decided to open the bedroom door and allow Leo to come out. It was as if nothing was going on as if strolled through the apartment, that was until his eye was caught by the carrier that sat on your living room floor. Charles came over and sat beside you, his hand on your thigh as Leo began to inspect. 

Leo had a little sniff around the carrier as he familiarised with the something new that had entered his home. After giving him a moment you reached into the carrier and lifted your daughter out, holding her just in front of where Leo was. 

It took a little while for Leo to stop fussing over your daughter, looking up at you and Charles. His eyes told the two of you that he approved of your little girl, walking away from her once he was happy with what was going on. 

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.” 

Your words were truer than ever though that night as Charles laid on your bed with his daughter laid just beside him. You walked through after taking an overdue shower, surprised to see that there was another addition to your bed. They say that three is a crowd, but not in this case. 

Your heart felt like it could burst as your daughter laid between Charles on her left, and Leo on her right, his head almost touching hers as if to reassure her that he was right beside her too. 

Charles’ eyes knew exactly where you were looking. You were supposed to be annoyed that your side of the bed had been stolen, but instead it was a memory that you wanted to snapshot for the rest of your life. 

You were sure that you had never seen anything so beautiful in your life, Leo had made sure your daughter was well protected and surrounded by love. Even Charles couldn’t get as close to her as Leo was, firmly establishing himself as her number one. 

Just like you, Charles couldn’t fault the scene that was unfolding in front of you though. Things had gone better than either of you could have ever imagined, all of the concerns that Charles had had long been forgotten now that your family of four were all home together.  

“Why do I feel like we’re never going to be allowed near our daughter ever again?” Charles laughed across at you. 

“I think out of the three of us, she’s definitely Leo’s love before she’s ours,” you added, unable to wipe the smile from your face. “I think they’re going to be the best of friends.” 

Charles hummed in agreement with you, tilting his head down to watch them both once again. If he could pause time forever, he absolutely would. It was all that he had ever dreamt of, and so much more. 

“We’ve got the two most beautiful children in the world.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗