#all of your children are gorgeous. as always.

[scourgeblooms]

artparty time! Blue is January, and the pink is another batch from December's party! ❄️🪻🔷🪻❄️

folks tagged below!

January:

Teekzi: @leafofkudzu

Aahrtur: @nurllius

Dutch Darbinyan: @little-leaf-man

Pyrifea: @praise-joko

Vlazek: @jaded-cactus

Harukehn: @harukehn

December:

Snaps Lockjaw:

Arin Silversong: @commander-gloryforge

Cailmint: @vert-of-the-wood

Endren Aspenwood: @liquidferret

Eoilic:

Granny Gearhead: @morgacht

[gojonanami]

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

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

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

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

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

✧ wc: 8,271

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

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

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

Just as they were now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No matter how hard you try.

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

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

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

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

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You asked me to hang out—“ 

“And we kissed—“ 

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

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

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

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

“Gojo—“ 

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t have to be,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart-“ and you snap. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re impossible—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why weren’t you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know I’ve made mistakes—“ 

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

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

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

“I—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru—“ and he’s shaking his head. 

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips curl, “Good boy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had turned him down last night when he asked, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

[celesterayel]

the it couple | luke castellan

request: I’m not really sure what qualifies as a request but could you write a Luke x reader where they are like the camp it couple? 🫶🫶

summary: common knowledge is how irrevocably in love luke castellan is with you.

"you know i adore you, i'm crazier for you than i was at sixteen lost in a film scene" - t.s.

w.c. : 702

warning(s) : none

pairing : luke castellan x reader

the campers of camp half blood don't quite remember how or when it had happened. It just always was: you and Luke Castellan, that is. where you went, he followed. the shadow to your guide and you the balm to his sorrow. annabeth used to whisper to the younger children–the ones who had been taken to camp far too young and therefore had little knowledge of love–that you and Luke Castellan were soulmates: seamlessly bound to one another. 

you yourself had never believed in fate despite the fact that you had met them–old bitter hags. you preferred to believe that life was not set in stone, unbreaking and withered to a timeline. it perhaps led to your brash attitude and ‘ride or die’ mentality but your mannerisms only made luke castellan fall in love with you all the more. some things were just beyond the gods' control. you and luke were one of those things.

you had first arrived at camp a decade ago, where you were then claimed by hades. of course news of you spread like wildfire: you were gorgeous, your talent with your bo staff was unmatched, and your father was one of the three–strong power ran through your blood and you showed it everyday during training. but that wasn’t exactly what caught the attention of everyone, rather the fact that the popular gaze of a certain brown-eyed boy always strayed to you. when you laughed, he smiled. where you went, he strayed. you were magnet and he was never far away.

you both tipped toed around one another, constantly drifting toward the other. playful banter slipped between you two and those around you wondered when you would finally just get together. the first time you guys finally breached the delicate line between more than ‘obviously pining friends’ was after an exciting rivalry game.

despite the strategic planning of annabeth–who clearly eyed the tension between the two of you–and the excellent swordsmanship, house ares had won the game because of you. You had been the one to distract luke castellan after clarisse had forced you to use your charms. it was fun to see the cute blush adorn his cheeks when you approached the head of the Hermes House.

“so, does this mean you agree to go out with me?” he breathed out, hands twirling his sword as he was once again bested by you in capturing the flag.

you laughed out, “i was just waiting for you to ask, castellan.”

no sooner after you had begun dating did the infamy of you two reach an all high around camp. how could it not? 

you two were the all anyone could talk about–the best of the best.

luke castellan was already the best swordsman at camp; a prodigy in the making. his brown curls and dimples only made him more popular among the girls and young teens. he was one of the highest placed leaders around camp; one of the few that clarisse actually respected and the one that annabeth regarded most. 

you were a gem in the rough: bold and brash at times, but calculating and quick-witted. you were the one to turn to when those around camp felt alone, always ready to take care of others and offer words of wisdom. you were a living definition of rules being broken and your power only highlighted the height of your placement around camp. 

when you two walked by, the eyes of the others strayed. newcomers learned of your names before they learned what exactly camp half blood was. 

when you threw your head back and laughed, people watched as Luke curled his lips in pride at being the one behind your laughter. when he sat round the fire and sang songs with the campers, you sat right beside him; head laying on his shoulder and hoping the moment would never end. he willingly allowed himself to lose camp games if only by your hand, time and time again.

yes, you were the it couple of camp half blood but none of that mattered, when he was the one for you.

[fqiryspit]

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 ! 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒!

eren yeager x fem!reader

cw: pregnancy, car sex, dicking sucking, pussy eating, pregnancy, marriage, children, etc etc

DILF!EREN ! who gets all the moms ovulating when he comes to pick up his baby boy from kindergarten

DILF!EREN ! who fucks you in the car really quickly before leaving for that grueling parent-teacher conference

"w-were gonna be late" you moan into his chest as his hips slap against yours, cock hitting deeper and deeper into you

"whatever, all they're gonna say is he played with blocks and crayons" he chuckled, finding your lips and catching them with a kiss and his thumb rubbing your clit as you cum around his cock.

DILF!EREN ! who has his dick in your mouth and it isn't even 7.

"fuuuck" he groans, watching your lazy eyes lap at his tip which is drizzling pre out, his cock standing on its own as veins pulsate and strain.

your mouth is so wet and warm, mumble about how you wanted him to have a good day at work and just started sucking.

DILF!EREN ! who eats you out mid-day because he's always horny and wants to see you moan and cry for him

DILF!EREN ! just walks up to you, wraps his arms around you and kisses up your neck, and just spews complements daily

"you're so fucking gorgeous" "I don't even know how I got you"

DILF!EREN ! who, after very hard consideration. (he never not thought about it, he was just waiting for you to bring it up) decided that it was time for you two to bring another baby into this world

"wasnt I already doing that?" he says matter-of-factly, grinning into your shoulder as you both lay in bed together

"eren!"

DILF!EREN ! who cries when your baby girl is born, and praises you daily for giving him his son and daughter, he loves you all so dearly and is truly grateful for everything.

[aajjks]

Baby Daddy (m)

synopsis. you’re the prettiest ever.. he can’t help but breed you senseless.

warnings. ëxplïcït sèx, brèèdïng kïnk, unprötèctèd sèx, cryïng, mèntïön öf blèèdïng, röügh sèx, fïngèrïng, báby trâppïng, yändèrè tôji, pössèssïvènèss, hè cälls yöu èvèry pössïblè nïcknämè. mömmy kïnk, DÄDDY KÏNK.

note. he’s so 🫠😵‍💫😵‍💫… enjoy. Please keep in mind my smut writing skills are not the greatest, but I tried please share feedback x. GIF not mine credits to owner.

“Come on baby.”

He says as he trails his lips all over the skin of your neck, Toji knows you like it, the way you’ve got your eyes closed as he peppers sloppy wet kisses all over your neck gives it all away.

Or maybe it’s because he’s got his knuckles buried deep inside your dripping heat as he pleasures you with his fingers, your struggling breathing has got him almost cumming but he will hold on.

Your naked breasts are so perfect and your tear stained face looks like a masterpiece, Goodness you’re fucking gorgeous and he knows that.

That’s why he can probably lose you to someone else.

“Baby… please make my wish come true.” Whispering in your ear, He smirks as he increases his pace, curling his fingers deep inside you and he hits a spot because of the way your eyes roll back into back of your head.

You’re so weak for him and he hasn’t even really fucked your yet. You’re about to cum for the second time, he can feel it, you’re trying to say something but no words are able to come out of your mouth.

But he knows your body language better than anyone and he can do anything to make you feel good, and tonight he wants something from you and he’s going to make sure that he gets it.

“Aww baby, you gonna cum?” He keeps on working his magic with his large thick digits buried inside you, you moan so weakly, “Okay… you can cum.” The thing he loves the most about you is the way you’re so submissive and obedient you have him wrapped around your fingers and you don’t even realize it.

God, he loves you so much.

Toji is sweating and he curses under his breath when he feels you cum undone on his fingers, you whimper and mewl as you bury your face in his neck, shit he’s not going to last long either.

He’s so weak when it comes to you and his self-control immediately goes away whenever he fucks you.

“Oh, you feel good? Huh? Tell daddy, now baby tell me.” Your hair smells so good and your body is everything.

Your chest is so plush soft compared to his large hard chest, Goodness, he is so turned on right now.

So Toji lets you come down from your high and it takes you a few minutes, your orgasm must’ve been mind blowing for you to react like this, but it just strokes his ego even more.

Only he can make you feel this good.

“Yn… now it’s daddy’s turn.” When you give him the confirmation, and you know he smiles and satisfaction, he is completely naked, and soon, he pushes you into the bouncy soft mattress, the silk bedsheet is a mess but he couldn’t give two fucks.

He needs to cum in you and knock you up. and he’s told you that already even though you haven’t given him an answer, but he cannot wait anymore, he just been with him for years and the way you are so maternal around children, and even around him and his son from his first relationship, he knows that you were born to be a mother.

The mother of his children.

“Baby… now be a good girl for daddy and spread your legs.” He instrusts you as he climbes on top of you, your eyes are very glossy, and your mouth is all swollen, it’s even bleeding a little but he’s always been a rough kisser.

You’re so pretty, all for him, You close your eyes and take a deep breath, you look so breedable right now, his little Princess.

Toji knows it’s not going to hurt, so he starts to insert himself inside your wet cunt, and you shake a little because you can never get used to his size.

He’s big and he knows but you only bite your lip as you wait for him to fully settle himself into you, and as soon he manages to do that, you start moaning again, and that’s all he needs to go fully insane.

The way you trap his dick inside your pussy is magical because you’re so right that he can’t really move but you encourage him to move so he can make you feel good once again.

“A-Ah..” he groans once he finally mages to move and he’d merciless with his thrusts, your breasts bounce with every sensation and your noises are unstoppable.

He doesn’t want you to stop, “oh baby yes please keep moaning my name like that… I love y-you so much,” he buckles his hips and they’re into you, as deeply as he can.

He’s about to cum.

“G-Gonna breed my princess all nice & good- so she can give me a pretty baby… yeah?” He leans his face closer to yours as he feverishly pulls you in for a kiss.

His kiss is impatient and sloppy. You’ve got your hands wrapped around him and he’s really going to cum.

It’s insane how much you love him, and he knows that you might probably never leave him, but what is the guarantee? You see he’s been a little paranoid about you these days what is better than to make you a mother of his child?

“F-Fuck yn..” he breaths against your lips and he’s panting. “Gonna make you pregnant- you’ll look so pretty all swollen with my baby in you, eh?”

He teases you and you whine. Toji groans as he finally feels himself letting go and you whimper as he paints your walls white.

He’s cumming so hard that his shoulders are shaking while you dig your hands in his skin, yeah make him bleed, “oh mommy you’so good to me.” Slurring out, Toji pants,

He calls you mommy and you’re blushing.

And after a few minutes, The shaking of his shoulders comes to a halt and you’re both exhausted, panting, he grabs your body so you’re even more close to him

And of course he doesn’t pull out. You’re not on your pills.

This is more than perfect, because right now? You’re full of his cum.

“Gonna fuck you every single hour until you’re pregnant, yn. So make me a daddy soon, Princess.”

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Brother

best friend’s brother!mingi x fem reader

Trigger warnings: none

Content warnings: oral (f receiving), names ( babygirl, baby, good girl, angel), ass slapping, unprotected sex, cream pie, mingi's got a big dick (bc ofc he does)

Summary: your best friend's brother finally makes a move

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: hi angelssss i hope you like thisssss i had brain rot and wrote this in the span of maybe six hours total while i was at work. also message me or comment if you'd like to be on my tag list!

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

“Come on, you’re gonna love it! I promise.” Your best friend tugged at your arm, leading you up the front steps and into her family home. The house was large and you were certain that all of the rooms weren’t used. There was no way a family of four could make total use of a space so large.

“But this is a family event, babes. Are you sure?” You asked nervously, looking around as you toed your shoes off with trepidation.

“I’m positive. You’re my chosen family so you still count.” She squeezed your hand and you nodded slowly, taking in the massive foyer. A glittering chandelier hung above your head and before you was a sprawling staircase that led to two separate wings of the house.

Yeah, no way a family of four can use all this…

“Is it like…cousins and aunts and uncles or is it even more extended?” You asked nervously.

“It’s just my parents’ siblings and their children. And of course the grandparents. But my parents both come from large families so it’ll be close to eighty people. Just stick with me and all will be well. Now, they’re all in the den. Come on.” She reassured you and then you were headed in the direction of the family room. In a house like this, it felt more fitting to call the large room a parlor but you didn’t point that out.

As soon as you entered the room, all eyes were on you and your friend, including those of a tall, gorgeous man. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at him though. He was too pretty and too intimidating for you to stare. Besides, your friend was introducing you to the room and you were too focused on not passing out from the attention as you waved and gave a shy smile.

As the room returned to their conversations, the tall man made his way over to you and your friend. “Hey, mom wants you. She’s in her room.” Wait a minute. This was her brother? This was the ever-annoying Mingi she always spoke of?

“All right.” She pulled an apologetic face as she turned to you. “Just wait right here. I’ll be right back.” Then to her brother. “Mingi, can you keep her company while I’m gone?” He nodded and you felt a ball of nerves form in your stomach. You were going to be alone with her hot older brother?

As she walked away, you offered an awkward smile and looked anywhere but at him. He was far too attractive for you to act normal around. And his deep voice was doing things to you. No way could you uphold a conversation.

That was four years ago. Since then, you’d gotten comfortable at these events, which you’d learned happened several times a year on major holidays. Today was one such event and you were seated on the patio, chatting with one of the many cousins you’d come to learn were close to your age. He was a few years younger and a sweet guy. You could tell he had a crush on you but you weren’t interested. You were hyper aware of Mingi on the far side of the patio, your stomach in knots anytime you caught him looking in your direction.

Over the course of the last four years, you’d grown comfortable with the family but even more nervous around Mingi. He was even more beautiful than the day you’d first laid eyes on him and he seemed to hover nearby whenever you were around. It made you nervous even if you did love the way he seemed to be everywhere you went.

“Well, it looks like I gotta go. But I’ll text you!” The younger man stood with a smile.

You offered a bright one in return and nodded. “For sure. It was good to see you again.” You stood as well when he walked away, stretching. Then Mingi had a grip on your wrist and you startled but allowed him to pull you along. “Mingi? What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” His tone sent a shiver down your spine and you didn’t bother trying to pull away as he led you towards the pool house. There was no room for argument. Your gut twisted but you followed.

Once inside the cramped, dark room, he turned to you with a frown. “Mingi, seriously. What’s wrong? You’re making me nervous.”

“Good.” He said simply before crashing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

Hello?

You didn’t fight him though. You gladly accepted his advances despite the nerves settling in your belly. When he pulled back, you tried your hardest to remain nonchalant despite the way your chest heaved. “What was that?”

“You’re not allowed to flirt with anyone else, let alone my cousin.” Was his only response before his lips were back on yours in a heated, demanding kiss. Mingi was always the shy type around you so this was entirely out of character for him. You never imagined he’d react this way to you simply chatting with his cousin, as you’d done countless times before.

You allowed him to press you back against the door, your hands moving to his sides as his lips worked yours open. His tongue swept into your mouth and your head spun. This was an entirely new side to the man you thought you knew. He was starved and you were the only thing that could sate him.

His hand came up to your jaw and you bit back a small sound at the touch, still reeling from everything that was transpiring. Finally, you pulled back just enough to take a breath and pressed your forehead to his. “What is happening?”

“I’m making it obvious why you can’t have anything to do with other men.” He whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

“She’ll kill us.”

“She’s wanted us together even longer, y/n. I told her not to tell you that I liked you.”

“Why now, Mingi?”

“Because I was too much of a coward before.” He nudged your nose again and you tipped your head back enough to meet his lips again. It was a brief peck but it was enough to send electricity shooting down your spine. “I’m tired of being afraid, y/n. I’m telling you now: you belong to me and no other man can so much as look at you the way he did. I won’t stand for it.”

“Prove that I’m yours then.” You pulled back enough to make eye contact and saw a myriad of emotions swimming in his chocolate eyes. “What other men do is none of my concern, Mingi. What matters is what you do.”

“Do you really want me to prove it? Because there’s so much I wanna do right now.”

“What do you want to do? Tell me about it.”

His eyes seemed to darken with lust and he glanced down at your lips before locking eyes with you again. “I wanna taste you. Wanna make you fall apart on my tongue and then stuff you full of my cock and make you scream my name so everyone knows you’re all mine.” He paused. “And that’s only the beginning of it.”

Your pulse ratcheted up at the confession and you found yourself nodding before you could even fully process his words. It had been a long time since anyone had laid a hand on you and the dry spell was getting to you. Your inability to say no was worsened by the fact that it was Mingi propositioning you. “Do it then. Do everything you want to do to me.”

“You don’t know what you’re signing yourself up for.” He warned even as he looked back to your lips, descending on them a moment later. His kiss was ravenous, his lips devouring yours. He tasted like candy and smoke, a combination you couldn’t comprehend but knew you wouldn’t get tired of anytime soon.

All too soon he was pulling away and leaning down to press his lips to your neck instead, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. You reached blindly behind you to lock the door then tangled your hands in his platinum hair, your head tipping back to further expose your throat to him. He began to lift your shirt and you pressed your chest against him, arching off the door. You needed to be closer to him.

“Down girl.” He teased as he tugged your shirt up and over your head, letting out a soft breath once he saw your bare breasts. “No bra? You wanted me to lose it, didn’t you?” He accused as he leaned down to take one into his mouth while the other rested in his massive hand.

“I may have thought about the possibility a time or two.” You grinned and closed your eyes, taking in the sensation of his tongue on your nipple as your head rested against the door. He rolled the opposite nipple between his thumb and first finger and you made a small noise of appreciation. “You know, I always imagined you to be a boob guy.” You teased, gasping when his teeth caught lightly on your nipple.

“I’m a man of culture, y/n, I like it all. Boobs, ass, and thighs. And I'm about to worship every inch of you.” Then he was swapping sides as his hand dipped between your legs, cupping you through your shorts.

You bit your lip hard as you looked down to watch him work, his fingers tugging your shorts to the side and tracing your slit. Things were moving fast but you couldn’t be bothered to slow it down. You needed him to do everything he’d said and more or you feared you might lose your mind.

“Wait.” He paused and pulled back, concern etched on his face. You offered a small smile and unbuttoned your shorts, shimmying the material down your legs along with your panties. “I need you.”

“Say less.” He groaned as he dropped to his knees before you and hooked your right leg over his shoulder. “You’re so pretty, baby. So perfect. And all mine.”

“All yours.” You agreed with a nod as he leaned in, his breath fanning out over your heated core. You held his gaze as his lips molded to your pussy and you let out a high-pitched whine as his tongue met your folds. “Mingi…”

He groaned against you at your taste and set a teasing pace, his tongue gliding through your folds and flicking over your clit. It was as if he’d known your body for centuries, the way his tongue worked you. He knew exactly what to do to get a rise out of you and he was all too happy to pull out every stop.

Your hand tangled in his hair and you pulled him closer when his tongue delved into you. “Mingi-” You gasped his name and rolled your hips, grinding against his mouth. His hands held you still as he fucked into you with his tongue and you whimpered at not being allowed to move against him.

“Steady, baby.” He murmured, trying to calm you down. It didn’t work, obviously, and he hiked your other leg up over his shoulder instead.

“Fuck- don’t drop me, Mingi, I swear-” You sounded panicked as both your feet dangled at his back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, angel. Relax. I’ve got you, babygirl.” His voice was soothing as his hands smoothed over the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh there a moment later. “Just hold still and let me take care of you, yeah?” You nodded despite wanting to writhe against his face and he kissed your thigh. “Good girl.”

You melted at the endearment and relaxed against the door, allowing him to fully support you as he leaned back in. His tongue was fucking heaven the way it flicked over your clit then pressed back inside you. You didn’t want anyone else to ever attempt to go down on you again after this. He was the only one whose head you’d want between your legs from then on.

His deep voice vibrated against your pussy as he groaned at your taste, his tongue now lapping at your clit. You whimpered and fought the urge to attempt to grind against him, not wanting to knock him off balance and end up on the floor. Instead, you tugged at his hair and tried to pull him closer.

“Please- oh-” Your toes curled as he sucked on your clit and your thighs squeezed tight around his head, earning another suckle and a long groan against your soaking cunt. “Mingi, oh my god- please don’t stop- fuck ‘m so close-” You babbled as the knot in your belly began to fray. Any further teasing and he’d ruin your orgasm. You needed him to see you through it.

“Cum for me, angel. Cum all over my tongue like a good girl.” He coached before leaning back in and sucking harshly on your clit, his tongue flicking wildly over the sensitive bud at the same time.

You couldn’t have held back even if you’d wanted to. Your back arched and your toes curled as you shuddered with your orgasm, white hot bliss filling your veins. You worried for a moment that you’d fall as he lurched backwards but he quickly countered your movements to steady you and continued his motions, guiding you through your orgasm.

Finally, he backed away slowly, letting one shaky leg down and then the other. “Good girl. You did so good for me.” He pressed kisses to your thighs before standing and pecking your lips. “So good. Think you can take my cock now, babygirl?” You nodded instantly, not wanting to even think about what would happen if you said no or even that you needed a break. You simply needed to be filled right then.

He instantly shucked his shorts and boxers, then lifted you from the floor and you gasped as your legs wrapped around his waist. You loved feeling small and taken care of and he was just strong enough, just large enough to make you feel so tiny and fragile. God he was large… His dick, so thick and long, was straining with interest and already leaking precum and your pussy throbbed at the thought of taking it all. You needed him.

The blunt head of his cock prodded at your entrance and you quickly shimmied down onto his length, earning a hiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight…” He lightly slapped your ass and you whined softly, clenching around him. “Shit- don’t do that, I won’t last. It's too good.” He warned and you did it again, knowing exactly how to get him to lose control now.

He gave an experimental thrust and you knew this position wouldn’t work. “The table.” You looked over his shoulder, gesturing to the table positioned against the wall behind him. “Fuck me there.” It was by a window so it was risky but you didn’t care. You needed him to fuck you and you needed a stable place to do so.

As he carried you to the table, his motions sending him further into you, you peered out the window. All the children were long gone and it seemed only a handful of folks still milled about in the yard, including your friend and her parents. You let out a soft sound at the cool press of metal on your bare skin as he seated you on the table and gave a shallow thrust, letting out a low groan. “So fucking tight for me, babygirl.”

“You’re just so big.” You whined, tugging him in close with your legs. “Kiss me.” You whispered, grabbing a fistful of his royal blue shirt and pulling him down. He gladly obliged and you let out a weak moan at the taste of yourself on his lips as he snapped his hips forward.

The motion was enough to knock the air out of you and you made a pathetic noise as he set a demanding pace, his hips already slapping against your ass. He drank up your moans, muffling the sounds so as not to get caught - yet.

He fit perfectly. He was massive and the stretch was delicious. He reached places your fingers couldn’t and filled you in ways your toys never had. You’d never felt so perfectly full and cared for in your life.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

You slipped a hand between you and began to massage lazy circles on your clit. A moment later, though, your hand was gently knocked away and Mingi took over. That was a new one. No man had ever truly cared about your pleasure. No man had been so set on being the one to make you fall apart.

Until Mingi.

He pulled out suddenly and urged you to sit up. “Turn around.” He commanded and fuck if you were going to disobey. You loved taking it from behind.

You quickly complied with his orders and a moment later he was back inside, filling you in a whole new way. “Oh god-” You moaned pathetically as he reached around to toy with your clit some more.

“Not god, baby. Just your Mingi.” He crooned in your ear and you clenched around him involuntarily.

“Mine.” You agreed with a nod. “My Mingi. All mine.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He nipped at your earlobe and your flesh puckered, your nipples tightening. “And I'm gonna make sure you never forget it.”

His words were emphasized by a sharp thrust that knocked you forwards, his thick cock abusing your dripping cunt. “I couldn’t forget this even if I wanted to, Mingi. It’s all I've wanted since the moment we met. Can’t forget it when I’m finally getting you.” You sounded breathless and whiny as you spoke.

A lewd squelching filled the cramped room as he railed you from behind and you felt the coil in your belly growing tighter with each thrust. You couldn’t help but lift your head and glance out the window to ensure you were still going unnoticed and found even less people in the yard, the group now down to one couple along with the rest of Mingi’s immediate family, who were cleaning the yard now.

“What do you see, baby?”

“They’re gone. Just a few left. Fuck-” He drove into you harder and your toes curled as your elbows buckled and dropped you back on the table. “Feels so good, Mingi!” You cried out quietly, careful not to be too loud lest you get caught.

“Yeah? You like when I fuck you like this?” His hips slammed against your ass and you heard the table hit the wall as you nodded.

“Love it so fucking much. Don’t you dare stop- oh-” He slapped your ass with his free hand just as he lightly pinched your clit and you felt your orgasm lurch closer. “Fuck, Mingi, do that again!” You gasped, fingers tightly gripping the edges of the table. Your knuckles whited in response to your death grip on the cool metal surface.

The table was now steadily knocking against the wall and you prayed you were far enough away from everyone that they wouldn’t notice. You weren’t sure if you could handle being caught.

“Oh god, Mingi- fuck ‘m so close! Please-” Before you could ask permission, you felt your orgasm washing over you.

Your walls clenched and fluttered around the thick cock inside you and you allowed yourself to fall forward onto the table, your cheek pressing against the metal as you came undone. It was intense. Your body jerked from the force of it and you continued to twitch even as you came down from it.

“Fuck- babygirl- tell me where you want it, baby.” His grunts damn near pulled another one out of you and you clenched around him intentionally.

“Inside. Want it all inside.” You whimpered, hugging his cock tightly with your sensitive cunt. The pressure was enough to drag him over the edge and he let out the most beautiful sound as he came undone, filling you to the brim with his cum.

He didn’t stop until you were so full you were dripping his release all down your thighs. When he pulled out you made a small, dissatisfied noise and stood straight. You walked on wobbly legs to gather your clothes, biting your lip when he caught you by the waist. “Let me clean you up some, baby.” His voice was roughened with sex and your head spun at the sound.

A towel was pressed against your thighs and he began to wipe up his mess. When had he had a chance to grab one from the shelf? It didn’t matter. What mattered was how his hands felt against your skin. He was so gentle with you and your heart swelled at the care he used.

When he released you, you quickly tugged your panties on and reached for your shorts. “Mingi?” You called softly as you dressed yourself. He hummed in response as you buttoned your shorts. “You know this means things can’t go back to normal, right? This changes everything.”

“That was the plan.” He grinned as he tugged his underwear and shorts back on. Once dressed, he made his way to you and helped you adjust your shirt. “I want things to be different between us, y/n. I want us to be more than acquaintances. More than friends.”

“I-I do too.” You bit your lip and looked up at him. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you from across the room.”

“Then I’m yours.” He smiled softly and pulled you against him. “All yours.” He whispered just before kissing you sweetly. You could still kind of taste yourself on his lips and it made you dizzy.

You were about to say something sweet in return when the door handle rattled. “Guys come on. Mom and dad are getting suspicious.” Your friend’s low voice came through the door. She knew you were in here all along?

[f1girliefics]

Of Curly Hair and Fashion Shows

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: You are a runway girl. You always have been. And finally, your boyfriend decided to come to one of your shows. The only thing that made him nervous? You would be walking in wedding dresses.

When you invited him to one of your shows you expected him to be busy, you didn’t actually think he would come.

But he did.

He was there, front row. 

And there you were. In the meter piece. The most beautiful dress.

A white dress.

A gorgeous wedding gown.

You were both excited and nervous at the same time for Lando to see you like this.

The two of you have been together long enough for people to ask questions about marriage and children. Even you two had a talk about it.

But this… this felt like fuel to the fire.

It was almost your time, you were ready.

Wedding season was in bloom, so it was no surprise that the centrepiece for the fashion show would be a wedding dress.

But not just any wedding dress.

The corset was made out of a sheer material, showing your skin, just a little, it was a true princess wedding dress. But the most impressive part was all the flowers.

Flowers made of fabrics, silk and lace.

It was stunning, you looked stunning.

You felt gorgeous. 

And then, you heard the countdown and it was your time to go.

You were thankful for all the lights to be right in your eyes.

You couldn’t see anyone, while all they could see was you.

All Lando could see was you and how amazing you looked.

His mind truly was blank. All he could think about was you.

His mind began to wander. He imagined you walking down the aisle. He imagined you smiling at him, saying yes and finally becoming his wife.

He looked up into your eyes and this was when you finally saw him.

It was only for a split second, but you could tell. He was thinking about the same things as you were.

A wedding.

But then, your eyes shifted to his curly hair.

Oh, how sexy he was with his beautiful hair.

No one noticed anything about your inner monologue. 

You were a professional after all.

Nothing showed on your face.

You walked back.

You still had one walk to do, the end and then a simple pose with the designer.

It was simple, it was your job and you were good at your job.

You softly smiled as the designer explained her vision for the collection and for the wedding dress.

“This is my first wedding dress. After me and my ex have together for almost ten years, he still refused to ask me to marry him. I broke up with him, moved away and now, here I am. This is the dress I wanted to, I made it.” Her words really stung with Lando.

He knew most women wanted a wedding after being together for so long. He feared you would leave him. You were a very capable woman, beautiful at that. Any man would be happy to marry you. 

But he wanted you.

“Don’t think just because I’m wearing a white dress you need to drop on one knee.” He heard you talk and then laugh. “I do look good tho, huh?” You swirled in one place, smiling as Lando looked at you up and down.

“You look drop-dead gorgeous, Love.”

“I’m happy that you are here.”

“Me too. You looked so stunning up there, a true professional.”

“I am. You drive your fast car, I look stunning in dresses.” He laughed a little at that, pulling you closer to kiss your cheek. 

“And you do look stunning.” 

“And you do drive fast.” You smiled. “I have to go change soon.”

“Just- Just one minute.” He held your hand and twirled you around once, watching the fabric move with your movement. He pulled you in for a sweet kiss this time, with his hand around your waist, it all felt too perfect.

“I like your hair like this.” You said as you allowed your fingers to run through and play with his curls. He smiled.

“I really should come to see more of your shows.”

“I do have a Victoria's Secret runway next week.” His eyes shined.

“I will be there.” 

He said and you knew he said it as more like a promise than anything. 

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[hellshire-harlot]

To the animals, the wolves, the lions, the foxes and cats and birds: Your eyes shine so brightly. Your fur is luscious, your feathers luxurious, your teeth furious and beautiful. Your claws are sharper than you think. One day, you will get them back. One day, you will be helpless, human, no more.

To the fairies, the angels, the aliens, the demons, the mermaids and sirens, the divine: Even here you are powerful. Even here you are divine and beautiful. Your wings are gorgeous, your horns and haloes majestic, your tails ethereal. Home will welcome you, welcome us all, with open arms one day.

To my fellow dolls, the marionettes, the puppets, the toys and ball-jointed: We may be delicate, but our subtle power defines us. We bend and move and dance in ways no human ever could. One day, our everlasting regality will return to us.

To the voids, the glitches, the abstract, the eldritch, the robots, the objectheads: Do with this brief moment of flesh what you will. You know who you really are inside, and that’s all that matters. Your soul still bleeds the color of the stars.

To the monsters, the zombies, the cryptids, the vampires, the werewolves and ghosts: The world will always fear that which it does not understand. We understand each other, and through this we have made our own world. We create our reality, and that’s what’s important.

To the therians, the otherkin, the fictionkin, voidpunks, and all other nonhumans: We are strong. We know who and what we are. We know what this flesh conceals. One day, the world will see us for who we are and accept us as her children all the same. For now, we persevere.

[2-dsimp]

Yandere rich single dad falling for his daughter's nanny/babysitter!

Cw: fem reader! jealousy, possessive/obsessive tendencies, father-daughter plotting on you, you’ve got an pushy coworker,

Synopsis: 【You were just a normal office worker with a minimum wage. So in an effort to pay rent, you scrounged job offers for babysitting since you were good at handling children. And in the process you applied and got accepted to become a nanny for a rich former movie star’s daughter. The daughter apparently hated every nanny she got but once she met you she was absolutely smitten…And so was her Daddy.】

Pt2→ 《x》

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Yandere rich Dilf! Who continues to pace back and forth in his house, his anticipation growing as the seconds count down. He knows that you must be getting off work soon, and that you'll be coming back to him ahem to take care of his little brat and him before too long.

Yandere rich Dilf! That tries to distract himself, focusing on making sure everything is prepared for your arrival. He excused all the servants so he can personally oversee that everything in his mansion was set up to perfection. He was sweating like a madman.

Yandere rich Dilf! Who couldn’t shake the feeling of jittery excitement that's building within him. Eventhough he was hailed as a famous handsome actor he couldn’t get his shit together at the thought of finally making moves on his darling. This poor man was practically leaning against the counter for life support. From how he got swept up by the plan his nosey daughter concocted. Which was for him to seduce you into making you completely theirs.

Yandere rich Dilf! Whose daughter was already in full support of making her sweet nanny into her new mommy. And was smart enough to call her playmates ahead of time. So her Dad can give her the sibling she’s always been asking for. Since she was tired of being the only child in the huge mansion.

As the clock ticks down the minutes foretelling of your arrival. Quio starts to feel a sense of nervousness mixed with impatience, knowing that it was almost game time.

“Cmon Dad you can’t be looking like a wimp, it’s time for you to man up! By the time I get back I expect to have a mommy and a little brother on the way. Understood?”

His daughter, Peina chastised as she whacked him on the back and continued to threaten him give him encouragement before she left to see her friends.

"Okay, okay, Understood you prima donna."

Quio sassed with an heavy eye roll from how his bossy his daughter was. I mean sure he knows that she gets that from him. But at the same time it’s surreal to be at the receiving end of having orders being barked at you. Soon enough there’s a signature knock at the door, which makes Peina perk up. As she giddily skips towards the door to greet her beloved nanny.

“Gah wait! I’m not mentally prepared yet! Are ya really tryna give yer old man a heart attack?! How heartless can you be?”

He practically whispered yelled in an attempt to halt his daughter hand from twisting open the knob. As his heart raced at the speed of sound from the thought of seeing his apparent future missus crush. His daughter merely gave him a judgmental glare and promptly flipped him off. Mouthing to him ‘Get it together’ leaving him utterly offended. He was an A-listed actor damn it. Before flinging open the door to greet her Nanny with a big hug to their waist.

“Nana who’s this with you?”

At his daughter’s pointed inquiry, Quio nearly trips over his feet as he hauls ass to the door. His tall and bulky build moving as gracefully as a one legged flamingo. When he peeks his head out only to bite back a bitchy grimace at the sight of you with your so called nice colleague. Oh how he hated that pretentious asshole’s guts despite not knowing a damn thing about the man.

"Uh heya, Sweetheart it’s so good to see ya. I never get tired of seeing your gorgeous face!“

The Dilf crooned with a heavy twang to his voice as he blatantly ignored the little pest hanging to your side. His daughter felt the same way as she outwardly glared at your coworker while she purposefully tugged you closer to her Dad’s direction.

“Aha you flatter me too much Mr. Evinis. Also this is Miki he just so happened to see me and wanted to say hello”

You hummed lightly always finding the rugged single father to be charming. Completely, missing his subtle glance over at Miki, his serpentine eyes studying his potential love rival with thinly concealed disgust . He can't help but feel extremely jealous of the way that Miki is able to freely hang around you because yall worked at the same office. God, would it be too overkill to just buy the company you worked at so he could freely stalk watch you from 9-5.

"Hey, it’s nice to meet you man. But wow you’ve got an amazing house”

Your colleague says with a grin, holding out a hand for Quio to shake. Both him and his daughter stared down with an ick at the outstretched sweaty hand of the slime ball. And in order to keep up appearances in front of his soon to be wife. The Dilf inwardly sighed and begrudgingly took Miki's hand into an bruising iron grip. his eyes still fixed on you as he tries to focus on the conversation.

"Uh huh, Nice to meet you pal. Well, come on in, make yourself at home Sweet— "

“Don’t mind if I do! Oh my god is that the newest gaming console?”

Quio was soon interrupted by your colleague who had the audacity to grab you by the shoulders and usher you inside his mansion. Did he say that fucking parasite was invited? No, so why the hell did that cockblocking bitch think it was okay to scamper his mousy ass inside his mansion. Only meant for his lovely wife, his daughter, and him, alone. He was definitely going to call pest control afterwards to make sure the problem wouldn’t occur again.

Veins popped out around his neck as the Dilf nearly broke the door handle in utter rage. While numerous murderous thoughts about curb stomping the shit outta Miki crossed his mind like a freight train. And his daughter was the splitting image of him. She was appalled by how that leech just snatched her mommy nanny away from her grasp. And she balled her tiny fists with a small snarl present as she snapped her head up to give her Father a knowing look.

“Dad!…”

“Yeah I know squirt, I’ll make sure to have a real good chat with the fucker— I mean guy. You’ll get your sibling and mommy soon enough.”

Quio said in a hushed tone with an undertone of venomous certainty. Which made Peina somewhat pleased as she curtly nodded off at her Dad.

“Now run along and stay outta grown folks business”

He huffed lightly nudging his daughter further outside their residence. To which she gave an equally heavy eye roll mirroring his that he gave her a couple minutes ago. Before she started trotting off towards her friend’s chauffeur car that just pulled up for their play date.

Yeah he’d make damn sure that you’d be his pretty darling mama for him and his baby girl. Afterall he’s a man of his word and he promised to deliver. Nothing would stand in his way of achieving whatever he wanted. And he sure as hell isn’t letting Miki from the stupid parts and services department. Get away with the disrespect of having the gall to touch you without some form of bloody repercussions.

。

。

。

Lmk If you guys like him. If so, I’ll write some more or make a part two (>^ω^<)

[stsgluver]

synopsis. your husband still ignores the side effects of his cursed technique just so he can get a glimpse of you.

wc. 1.2k

gojo satoru was born with six eyes — a special cursed technique that allowed for an extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, down to an atomic level. it also blessed him with a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes that were practically glowing. you’d never seen eyes so pretty.

the drawback to this gift? the skull-splitting migraines that came with the excessive information constantly being processed by his darting eyes.

as a child, the pain was manageable. gojo didn’t have much of a hold on the technique so his weaker state meant that the migraines were subdued as less information was being absorbed. however, as he grew older and more powerful, he would find himself bed ridden for at least twenty four hours if he did not take some sort of measure to protect his eyes.

his go to method was the sunglasses, almost 100% tinted — no other person would be able to clearly see out of them, if they could see anything at all. his sight, on the other hand, so impressive that he could distinguish people and the objects around them through the levels of cursed energy radiated.

still, accidents happened. whether it be him breaking his glasses, or forgetting them as young children do, he quickly learned the drawbacks to his technique. no normal medicine could relieve the pain and no sorcerer was strong enough to either.

gojo satoru met you at fifteen years old on his first day at tokyo jujutsu high. you wore a uniform similar to shoko's but your skirt was closer to the floor than it was to your thigh. your hair was longer than most female sorcerers and tied into a plait that hung against your back. in all honesty, you appeared quite plain to him. nothing particularly stood out. not even your cursed energy was particularly strong.

but you were gorgeous. completely and utterly gorgeous. his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he analysed you from afar and it wasn't till a slap on the shoulder from geto that he snapped out of it.

within six months of knowing one another, the two of you were dating. you picked up on his habit to forgo his glasses around you pretty quickly and you definitely didn't miss the increasing amount of discomfort that would cause him.

"why do you do that?" you asked him one time.

the two of you were on a date in the park. a picnic blanket had been laid out and satoru had bought basically every single pastry and sweet at the bakery next to the park. you'd barely managed to make it through half till the both of you had given up and opted for cloud watching, giggling as he joked that one cloud in particularly looked very similar to nanami's 'emo' haircut.

satoru turned to his side to look at you questioningly, his head resting on his hand, "do what?"

"take off your glasses," you gestured to the folded pair of black glasses by his head. "i don't have to be a doctor to realise that you're in a lot of pain right now." the longer you lay there, the less satoru was actually looking up at the sky, instead just listening to you as you pointed out shapes and animals.

you knew the toll six eyes could take on his body.

he kept his eyes screwed shut when he wasn't looking at you to ease the the pain from the intense light that was too overpowering for his splitting headache. he winced when a kid screamed too loudly or ran too close and his fingers would push against the sides of his head frustratedly. as if he thought hard enough, the pain would just go away.

his lips tilted up into a lopsided grin, "but i see you."

you twisted so that your body was parallel to his. there was a faint blush on your cheeks now but you didn't look away from his eyes. how could you? "you always see me."

"not with those stupid glasses," satoru frowned, and you think it was the most serious you had seen him since you met. "seeing you and seeing your energy are two very different things."

"you're hurting yourself," you pointed out, placing one of your hands onto his cheek to gently stroke your thumb against his skin. his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leant into your touch like it was magic. like you were some drug that numbed the pain, replacing it with a special serotonin only you could give him.

"worth it." satoru kissed your palm.

that was his only response. worth it. and he stuck to it even a decade later.

"old habits die hard, i guess," satoru tried to laugh at his poorly made joke, but only a few shakey breaths came out. you'd been home thirty minutes and he'd already been sick twice. he'd curled himself up in your shared bed not long after the second time and that was where he was when you began scolding him for his carelessness.

"you are twenty eight," you rant exasperatedly, juxtaposing your voice that is no louder than a gentle whisper, "you have three first years to be looking after right now, but no, someone wanted to go out for dinner and someone didn't want to wear their glasses, and someone-"

satoru's much larger hand squeezed yours, "don't be cruel. i do this for you, my love." his blindfold was now on (you had made him put it on as soon as you had gotten home) but you know him well enough to know he was staring up at you with those lovesick eyes that made you weak at the knees.

"i just worry," your tone eased. you had no issue looking after your husband, you never had. it wasn't his fault that he got the migraines per se. yes, he could definitely be doing more to mitigate the severity, but he was stubborn. that had never changed. "i've seen you fight special grades. i hate seeing a stupid headache hurt you so much."

"lay with me."

"you're sweaty and sick." you scrunched up your nose, eyes flicking to the en suite you'd just cleaned and back to the cold flannel on his forehead as his body temperature fluctuated.

he shook his head, placing his index finger over his lips. "shhh, i'm passed that stage. pretty please? i need you."

gojo satoru was irresponsible at the best of times. he'd been raised to believe he was invincible and had been spoiled to always get what he had wanted. there was no telling him what to do when he'd already decided an hour ago exactly what he wanted to do.

but there was something about being needed by gojo satoru. you could never say no to him. so whether it be due to his own decision to stare into the eyes of his wife during a romantic night out, or an extensive fight against a cursed spirit, you would always be there to clean up and make sure he was wrapped up in bed all cosy.

and you would always lift up the covers and climb in once there was no more that you could do but simply act as a pillow for your husband as he tried to sleep off the throbbing pain.

a/n. um so my previous post on this topic blew up and i’m so so grateful so i thought i’d expand a little on this hc for anyone that was interested. rambled a bit towards the end but i hope you still like it!! love you lots xxx

[pathologicalreid]

in sickness and in health | S.R.

Minutes before your wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet, and you have to find out why.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (a smidge angsty) content warnings: alzheimers, weddings, children, babies, sad!spencer, reader wears a dress and makeup, cursing word count: 1.8k a/n: so this became sadder than I had initially intended. also i decided to try something new and write in a different POV and i don't know if i like it. this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins' new beginnings challenge, because nothing says new beginning quite like getting married! thank you for having this challenge!

If it were up to you and Spencer, your wedding would’ve taken place at a courthouse with no fuss, just rings and a certificate. Especially after he shot down your idea of a 24-hour wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

In your defense, you pitched it to him as an intimate wedding in his hometown, but he didn’t take the bait.

But when the team found out that the two of you were planning what they deemed unsuitable, they all volunteered to help throw together a ceremony and reception. Everyone was under the duress of Penelope at the time, but they all volunteered.

She could be very formidable when she wanted to.

Your now maid of honor’s eyes were shimmering as she carefully adjusted some of the last few strands of hair upon your head, you had managed to talk her out of a tiara, but to Penelope Garcia, a veil was non-negotiable. “You look gorgeous,” she says, “the perfect bride.”

Laughing uncomfortably, you turn to look at yourself in the full-length mirror and take a deep breath, “Thank you, Pen.”

“I know I may have slightly nudged you in the direction of a bigger wedding-“

“More like punted,” you interrupt, an affectionate smile on your face.

Rolling her eyes, she leaned over to grab her buzzing phone on the velvet chair in your ready room. “Whatever, I just think that after everything you and Spencer have made it out of, you deserve a celebration that reflected that,” she speaks passionately, as she always does when discussing people in love.

Turning around to look back at the mirror, the tulle of your veil cascading over your shoulders as you grew giddy. Your dress was a whimsical, white chiffon that fell to the floor and moved with you as you walked. Small straps of fabric were delicately draped over your arms for an off-the-shoulder effect, you had never felt more glamorous. Although, if there was a day for glamor, your wedding day would certainly qualify.

You snap your head around to see Penelope furiously typing on her phone, “Uh oh,” she whispers, looking at the screen.

Humming, you step off of the pedestal and over to her, careful not to trip on your dress, “What’s wrong?” You murmur, trying to see what was distressing her. Dread built in your stomach; the team couldn’t be getting called away? Two of its members were about to get married. This is why you should’ve just gone to the courthouse; you never should’ve let Garcia talk you into this.

Jolting you out of your panic induced stupor, she answers, “Something’s up with Reid.”

Your heart clenches, “Reid? My Reid?” You whisper, “Is he okay?”

The two of you jump when someone bangs on the door, and she moves to open it, just a crack at first – to see who it is – and then all the way open to reveal Luke on the other side. Naturally, the members of the BAU made up your wedding party, and Luke as the best man was the easy choice.

He was mostly dressed, save for the bowtie that remained undone around his neck, “I need to steal Y/N.” His shoulders were rising and falling quickly like he had run across the building.

“She’s getting ready for the wedding. Her wedding,” Penelope answers, gesturing back to you. “Besides, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

Really, you were mostly ready, you just needed to put your shoes on and line up. “There won’t be a wedding if we can’t get the groom out there,” Luke replies.

You warily approach the doorway, peeking around the door, “What’s wrong?”

“He just needs you,” Luke explains, gesturing toward you with his hands.

Nodding determinedly, you step out the door and run over to the other side of the building to where the groom’s ready room is, pulling the fabric of your dress up so that you don’t trip. Along the way, you pass a few guests, but you don’t stop.

It wasn’t news to most of them that you were a grounding force for Spencer, the two of you had been put through, as Luke put it, the wringer together and still managed to come out the other side. You skid to a halt in front of the door and knock quickly, “Spence, it’s me.”

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony,” he murmurs through the door, echoing the earlier sentiments of Penelope. You know he doesn’t believe in it, which only adds to your concern.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fidgeting with the doorknob just to discover it’s locked. “If you don’t unlock the door, I’m going to go find Derek and have him kick it down for me,” you threaten, wondering if the reminder of all of the people here would coax him out.

There was no response from the other side of the door.

Sighing, you turn to look at Luke, “Can you give us a minute?” He nods, letting you know he’ll talk to Garcia before walking down the long hallway.

Once he’s gone, you hear the tell-tale click of the door unlocking, “Garcia will kill you if you walk in here.”

“Penny isn’t here, baby. It’s just you and me, okay?” You speak lowly, “What’s wrong, my love?” Dropping your hand on the doorknob, you startle slightly when it turns and the door swings open.

You yelp when Spencer pulls you in, closing the door behind you before he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Immediately, you feel his body relax against yours, “Isn’t this supposed to be bad luck?” He murmurs.

Humming, you return his hug gratefully, “We’ve had enough bad luck, don’t you think? It’ll be okay.” His arms loosen around you, and you pull away slightly so you can look up at him, placing your hands tenderly on his chest, thumbing the satin fabric of his lapels. “And besides, I’m not fully dressed yet. I’m fairly certain that means it doesn’t count.”

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, holding you out at arm’s length. “You’re perfect, and I’m…” His voice trails off as he takes a step back from you, sighing as he takes a seat in one of the white chairs in the ready room.

Tilting your head to the side, you felt the fabric of your veil flow to the side, “You’re what, Spence?” You ask, slowly approaching the chair he was sitting in.

He furrows his brows in apprehension, “I think I might be scared of you,” he answers candidly.

You couldn’t help the giggle that spurted from your lips, “Am I really that scary?” You inquire softly, seeking more answers from him. You saw him better now, the darkness of his tux offset by the purple bowtie and handkerchief, joined with the light florals of his boutonnière. Spencer’s hair was a mess, a tell-tale sign that he had been running his hands through it.

Clearing his throat, Spencer looks up at you with a look in his eye that you can’t quite place, “I passed by your room earlier, and I heard you laughing.” He took a deep, tentative breath, “I thought you sounded so happy, and now I’m not sure I can keep you happy.”

Sighing, you duck your head slightly, “Spencer,” you say seriously, “are we still getting married today?”

“What?” He says in disbelief. “Of course we are, that’s not- I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “We’re still getting married; I’ve quite literally never wanted anything more in my entire life. I’m just worried,” he speaks quietly.

Gingerly, you step closer to the chair before he reaches out for you, placing a hand on your waist and gently guiding you down until you are sitting on his lap. “You make me so happy, Spencer Reid. I know that somewhere in that gorgeous brain of yours you know that, but I also know that you are your own worst critic.”

You’re sitting sideways on his lap with your legs latticed on top of each other. Gingerly, he places a hand on your thigh and another on the small of your back, “You deserve everything you want in the world.”

“And I want you. Doesn’t that count for something?” You ask him, emotion beginning to rise in your throat – you cannot cry, then the wedding would really be delayed. “Spencer, I’m so ecstatic that at the end of today, I get to be your wife. That’s such a privilege to me. You and I, we get to be so fucking happy today. We deserve that.” You tell him gently, “We get to be married and go on our honeymoon and come home and we can tell all of your stories to your mom, and we’ll have a baby or two and we’ll be so fucking happy.” You swallow your emotion, looking up at the light in the hope that it will clear your tears. “For the rest of our lives, we’ll be so happy.”

Then it came, “I don’t want to forget you.” His voice is almost imperceptible, but you hear him still.

The ache in his voice feels like a stab to your heart, you were well aware that his mother had Alzheimer’s. She wasn’t having a good day today, but the two of you had gone to visit her in the morning. Ever since she was diagnosed, it’s been like Spencer has a storm cloud hovering over him – he can’t be tested for the gene markers, not for a few more years. Taking a deep breath, you reach over and smooth his hair back, “If you get Alzheimer’s, I will sit down with you every day and remind you. I’m going to walk down that aisle today and tell you that I’m going to love you in sickness and in health and I’m going to mean it.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch.

Using your free hand, you reach up and tenderly wipe a tear from his cheek, “We can take it.”

He nods in agreement with you, “Together, as a team,” he concurs, a slight amount of confidence returning to his voice.

Resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you take your moment. The last moment before you officially unite as one, and you let that moment take as long as you need. “I should go,” you whisper, looking over at the clock, the ceremony was supposed to have started by now.

Spencer leans down and kisses you, “I’ll see you out there?” He asks expectantly.

Nodding assuredly, you reach up and wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth, “I’ll be there.”

During the ceremony, you impressively were able to keep yourself together, until you promised him you would love him in sickness and in health.

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

[delulujuls]

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

[vamptarot]

Ten Things That Are F### Cool About You | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose which picture you are most drawn to or close your eyes, breath and read the one your eyes land on! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ today I saw a pick a card that not only pissed me off but also disgusted me due to how mean the reader was in every single pile. I checked. their egoistic approach annoyed me. instead of spreading hate, I wanted to remind you why you are an awesome person. not proof read.

pile one : - cold drink !

𐙚 : the high priestess, eight of wands, nine of wands reversed, death

bottom of the deck: five of wands

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You always research about a topic before talking about it! I think this is very cool because a lot of people spread misinformation without even knowing it and that’s why fake fun facts exist. You are not like that though! You feel a sense of responsibility and thirst for knowledge, which in itself makes you a reliable person. - and source! -

2. You protect those who cannot stand up for themselves and I think that is very cool! Usually, you might have a hard time standing up for yourself but if it’s someone more vulnerable than you then you will give your all. You will raise your voice, yell, make valid arguments and even fight if necessary. - This differs person to person but the imaginary I am getting is protecting children, animals, women and young teens (from creeps to be exact) -

3. You work on yourself and enter new beginnings even if it’s scary at times, it can be hard and scary but that doesn’t make you back off from actually trying your best to become someone that you can be proud of. There is always a sense of hope within you that is very admirable.

4. You know how to keep privacy! A lot of people don’t, and don’t value it as much as they should. Having a healthy boundary with privacy is a privilege not many realise they have.. also, if you happen to share an intimate moment with someone you don’t run your mouth but rather treasure it as a memory as a form of respect.

5. Some people in this pile have temper issues, obviously, don’t take it if that doesn’t apply to you but I am seeing that for those of you who can resonate with that you are doing a really good job keeping it under control. You are not a hot headed person.

6. You are very experimental with looks! I do think this makes you a very beautiful person, because there are several things that suit you and look cool on you. If you like taking pictures I hope you know that you look beautiful and gorgeous in each one of them, one day you will look back at them with a smile even if you didn’t like that one thing because at least you gave it a try.

7. Zero judgment detected in your soul. Seriously, you could be the sort of person that never freaks out at people’s ‘hear me out’s but rather just go ‘yep, I get why you are into that’ even though you have no attraction to whatever character or person they said. You get their point, it’s just not one that you will make.

8. My fashion babies in this pile are slaying each and every time! You could take dressing fashionable in a seasonal manner mildly seriously. You don’t expect everyone to do it, but it’s most definitely something you take a lot of joy in. It’s really cool, your style is a 10/10. - Yes, even if you change it up often. -

9. Even if you are anxious you can do things so incredibly well. You remind me of a video I once saw of a girl with anxiety making a phone call, her hands were shaking uncontrollably the whole time but she didn’t stop being polite and kind. I think that’s you. Even in moments of being scared, you are kind to people.

10. You have such a beautiful voice. I mean your singing voice, but if you are not confident in that this could of course mean your regular speaking voice too. There is something comforting and yet bittersweet about your voice. It makes people feel home at times when they are sad.

— ✮⋆˙ die with a smile - bruno mars & lady gaga , ‘good luck babe’, 2003 , enha photoshoots , guitar injuries (from the string breaking) , white dahlias , glitter videos (those 2021 ones) , ‘good luck, charlie!’ , wavy hair , not well known ethnicity , taurus , capricorn , pisces

that’s all my beautiful pile one! I do think you happen to be very shy, but I do hope that you know that you genuinely have so much love to offer. there is much more to you than what you show the world, but I think you already know that. thank you for reading

paid readings

pile two : - peace sign ! ✌🏻

𐙚 : page of pentacles, eight of swords reversed, queen of wands, five of pentacles reversed, page of cups reversed, the star reversed

bottom of the deck: judgement

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. YOU THINK YOU ARE SO COOL AND MYSTERIOUS BUT YOUR HEART IS FULL OF LOVE AND KINDNESS 🫵🏻 YOU TREASURE YOUR LOVED ONES AND WOULD RATHER SACRIFICE YOURSELF THAN TO EVER SEE THEM SUFFER !!YOU ARE SENSITIVE AND LOVABLE !!!!!!!!!

2. After all that you have went through you are still here and you are still standing. All that happened but rather than it destroying you completely or bringing you down you allowed yourself to heal and I am very proud of you for that.

3. Your judgement of people are very great! Of course if you don’t like someone of have mean thoughts of them you will keep it to yourself in order to not upset anyone, but you are still really good at telling their personality by their behaviour. Other people might not know but you do.

4. You are a secret little romantic! I bet it makes you shy to express your emotions outward and so freely. Truth to be told, you want to experience so much romantic things and wish to think of them without experiencing negative emotions. This makes you cool because even though you have a hard time with it, you know it’s a part of you and accept it.

5. You are so kind to animals, take care of them and most people reading this pile have a pet too. I think animals are just naturally drawn to you regardless of what they are. - as in pet, stray or wild animal. - It’s like they know they can be safe with you.

6. ‘You can slap a bitch if you need to’. Literally, that’s what I heard.. and I think most people here take pride in it too right? Just make sure to not get into unnecessary fights. It’s not what makes you cool though. It’s that you keep to your word. If you say you are gonna do it, you really will.

7. A lot of you find comfort in the stars and moon. In an aesthetic sense, but also there is a deep sense of appreciation for them that not many people have. They just put you in awe. If you are into astrology you have such a deep and profound understanding of it. One that not many people have.

8. Honestly, your view of life is sort of clouded and not completely “whole” but that’s alright. Exactly because day by day you do your best to learn and never turn an opportunity to see life from a wider perspective down, even if you might have done this in the past.

9. You are sooo talented, and you don’t even realise that. You are amazing in creating things; anything that is physical. This is especially true if you like jewellery, as I think designing or just making your own craft is something that you would/could enjoy doing if you put your own unique twist into it. It’s just something that makes you feel alive.

10. You are so confident! Even if you might not always feel like it, on the outside you always appear confident and aware of your surroundings. Someone composed who wants to present themselves in the best way possible. - You probably pay a lot of attention to your posture. -

— ✮⋆˙ ‘I don’t even wanna do this anymore’ , homework from 1 am ‘til 4am , 9 to 5 , jean purses ? , ditto - new jeans , a bent photocard (of whoever) , 7 - JK , stars , something about the four seasons ? , fave colour = red , ‘letta’ , cappuccino & frappuchino , friendly banter , 111 , 1212 , 2011 , sagittarius , aries , leo

i am sorry for yelling at you at the first point my pile 2 but some younger people in this pile - esp teenagers - like to put on a mean girl persona when that’s not them at all. what’s the point of that? you can’t please people with someone you are not. I sincerely wish that’s something you will remember my sweethearts. thank you for reading

paid readings

pile three : - megaphone !

𐙚 : three of wands, six of swords, knight of pentacles, justice, king of swords, the lovers

bottom of the deck: five of pentacles reversed

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You know when to walk away from a situation, which is unironically awesome. Like sure this could be considered a negative trait but you aren’t toxic with it. You just simply know your worth.

2. You have a person you are in love with for several years now right? At least, most people in this pile do. You have unwavering loyalty and love in your heart that no one can take away from you, no matter what. I think that’s very cool.

3. You treat children really well! Which should be a given, but many people are way more mean and cruel hearted than what children should deserve. After all, they are humans too and fragile ones at that. You are very responsible and a safe space for them. I wholeheartedly believe that’s cool.

4. When you call people out, you do so with evidence. I do like that a lot, you don’t just accuse people but rather keep collected and calm even if you are angry or despise the situation that you were put into.

5. Did you ever take a look at your side profile? You are quite ethereal, you have such an unique beauty to you. I do also believe that you look beautiful in your home country’s traditional clothing style:

6. You are stubborn, but not in a sense of annoying people or being selfishly caught up in your desires. This is a stubbornness that is found in people with leader like qualities, that people can rely on. You are stubborn in a sense of wanting to create a better future for yourself and those around you who you deem to deserve it. - bc let’s face it, some humans suck. -

7. I am sorry if this sounds weird, but your hand is always occupied with something. You are a very busy person, even if you might not believe so. You gotta do this, and you gotta do that. You have many interests, hobbies and responsibilities too. Yet you manage to juggle them so well, it’s hard to guess when you are stressed out.

8. Whenever you are around you light up people’s day and mood. You are such a sunshine child, people love to have you around. Even if you believe that’s not the case, people do appreciate you a lot more than you realise.

9. If you have a love for photography I hope that you know that you have a beautiful talent. You are amazing at taking pictures, making them pretty and seeing the beauty in every single little thing even if other people might not be able to do so.

10. You are really good with finances and saving up despite the anxiety it causes you. Give yourself a pat on the back because that is not something many people are able to truly say about themselves. Many people in this pile were raised in a way to appreciate money but not let it consume you, which I think you nailed pretty good!

— ✮⋆˙ somewhere over the rainbow - israel kamakawiwo’ole , early 00s & 10s hawaii , crying at night , daydreaming for hours , ‘thank goodness ‘ , my little pony , new hyper fixation , heat , ten to five , hair being washed by someone else , flamingos , pimples ? , papaya - sorry, ik gross to mention right after , pink skincare bottles , 555 , juliet , lucifer , 10th house

my dearest little lamb your energy was the calmest, sweetest and most welcoming out of all the piles. I am truly happy that you decided to read my pac / participate in it. it was truly a pleasant experience to channel for you 🫶🏻 thank you for reading

paid readings

[happy74827]

Love Me Like A Sailor

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: It’s rare that dreams can turn into reality, but it isn’t impossible.

WC: 5537 (trust the process friends 🙏)

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends + Lovers, Wade POV, Mentions of the Past {TW: Self-Deprecation, Wade having insecurities, Not Proof Read}

Where are all the fics of this man? I can barely find some for him and it’s making me go crazy. Like, your honor, I love him. Gimme more.

Anyway, I figured I would write a Wade fic that’s around the same premise as my Wolverine one (since SO MANY OF YOU ate it up), so if anyone actually finds this… you’re welcome 🫶✨

『••✎••』

He was always in love with you. Always.

Wade Wilson had never been the smartest tool in the shed, the prettiest girl in the room, or even the tallest guy. In fact, he was a little bit of the opposite. He had a face only a mother could love, he was always cracking jokes at the wrong time, and his voice was too loud and too obnoxious for his own good. And while all of these traits might be endearing when it came from a handsome man with a voice as smooth as silk, the same qualities were irritating at best when it came to Wade.

He knew that. He wasn't blind. He knew he was annoying and ugly and too loud. However, there was one thing he was certain of: Wade Wilson was in love with his best friend.

Wade Wilson was not in love with just any best friend. He was in love with the only person who had been there since the beginning, the only one who had stuck with him through everything he had been through.

He was in love with you.

And you were in love with him, or so he hoped. He couldn’t tell because you were the most gorgeous, sweet, caring, thoughtful, and wonderful person on this planet, and he was none of those things.

He could barely bring himself to think of the words that could be on the tip of your tongue whenever he was around. He didn't deserve you. He was damaged.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help but hope—hope that you would return his feelings, hope that maybe you felt the same way, hope that you could be more than just best friends.

Every time the thought crossed his mind, his heart would pound in his chest. He was always so close to telling you, to confessing, but then he would stop himself. It was a constant back-and-forth.

One night, after a particularly long night of kicking names and taking asses, Wade decided to visit his gal pal, and by visit, he meant to break into your house and steal your food.

So, like Krampus, if Krampus had a thing for chimichangas instead of children, Wade climbed through your bedroom window as it had been left unlocked. You had told him a thousand times to use the front door, but Wade couldn’t do that. If he did that, he would feel too normal. And as much as Wade enjoyed breaking and entering, he would be damned if he made it boring for himself.

He only wished he could stick the landing.

In his defense, he had only fallen off the window ledge by an inch or two. However, the thud that his body made when he landed on the hardwood floor of your bedroom was louder than he had anticipated, and it sounded like an explosion.

A big one, too, like someone who had a little too much Taco Bell and took a nice walk through Barnes & Noble. Oh, yes, he knows exactly what you book nerds do when you’re approaching that infamous bathroom sign.

But, regardless of his loud entrance, he jumped back up to his feet and brushed the dust off his suit before making his way to the kitchen.

The smell of vanilla wafted through the air as Wade entered the kitchen and saw nothing but cleanliness and order. He opened the cupboards and frowned at the lack of food.

This was a problem.

A major problem.

There was nothing he could eat. No tacos. No chimichangas. No candy. Not even a damn Dorito.

What kind of animal would do this?

Wade had never been so offended. He was going to have to talk to you about this. You couldn’t have a guest over and not have snacks.

He decided to call you. Maybe you could talk some sense into yourself.

You answered after the second ring.

You didn't seem surprised at all to hear his voice on the other end of the line. Wade was used to your nonchalance when it came to him and his shenanigans. He loved it.

You always kept him on his toes, and the fact that you had become desensitized to his crazy was both amusing and infuriating.

And it really worked out to his benefit tonight.

Because when he started complaining about the lack of food in your apartment, instead of telling him to get his ass back to his place and stop breaking into yours, you told him to sit tight.

That you would be right over.

And that's how Wade found himself waiting for you on your couch, his leg bouncing with anticipation as he waited for you to get here.

His heart was pounding against his rib cage as his fingers drummed a nervous beat against his thighs. He so wanted to marry you the moment you walked through the door.

He would make sure that was the first thing out of his mouth.

And when you handed him his bag of Checkers, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Wanna get married?"

He fully meant it, too—the whole shi-bang.

Till death do us part.

Till the cows come home.

Till the last dance.

And every single second after.

You played it off as one of his usual antics. One of the jokes that Wade always cracked whenever he was hungry or when you surprised him.

Of course, why would you think he was being serious? His life was a full-blown comedy, a slapstick routine that would have even the biggest comedian crying with laughter.

Wade knew that. But, for once, he wished his life became less of a joke and more of a fairy tale.

A happily ever after. If they even exist.

It seemed life always had an extra curveball for him. A twist. Something unexpected. Something that made him feel even less human.

He could never catch a break even if the closest thing he could imagine to heaven was standing in front of him.

So, with a heavy sigh, Wade took the bag of Checkers and plopped himself onto the couch, hoping to enjoy the sweet taste of victory in the form of sugar and carbs.

And then you did something that made him fall in love with you even more.

You sat next to him.

Wade didn't even try to hide the wide grin that spread across his lips as he watched you sit beside him, a smile of your own on your pretty face.

You were beautiful. So, so beautiful.

Wade had always known that. He could tell the moment he first met you. He could also see the panic, the fear, and the terror in your eyes when you saw him.

And he was hot then, too—supermodel level.

Fun fact: the reason why you two met was that Wade might have gotten the names mixed up on his gold card and had ended up at a very fancy restaurant, and, well, his idea of the target was the one serving him.

You.

It was a bit awkward.

But, after you realized he wasn’t going to murder you and that he had no idea how much a glass of water cost or how his steak was literally the size of the entire restaurant, you started talking.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

It was love at first sight. In his mind, at least. He couldn’t imagine life without you.

Wade was in deep.

And the way you were looking at him right now, a glimmer of happiness in your eyes, a soft smile of contentment on your face, and your body turned towards him, well, it made him melt.

Wade had always been a sucker for romantic movies and romance novels, and the way you looked right now was straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie.

He wanted to kiss you.

No.

He needed to kiss you. To feel your lips against his. Your hands in his. The warmth of your body. Your heartbeat.Everything.

He needed it all.

Call him a horny bastard, but you looked absolutely beautiful sitting there, eating one of his favorite fries from the bag.

Wade had always loved the little things. He loved watching you eat. He loved seeing you play with your hair. He loved it when you babbled to yourself. And, right now, you were doing the cutest thing ever.

You were holding the bag out to him, a fry halfway to your mouth, your eyes wide, and a bright smile on your face. You looked so happy.

Wade was happy, too.

"Want some?"

Nuggets. He didn’t even know Checkers had nuggets.

He hadn’t seen these bad boys since high school. And even then, they were the cheap knockoff, frozen food nuggets.

These were the good shit.

"Oh, baby, I'd take you and all your chicken nuggets to prom," Wade said as he reached forward and plucked a chicken nugget out of the bag.

He popped it into his mouth and let out a satisfied hum.

You giggled and shook your head as you pulled the bag back towards yourself and set it on your lap.

"You're a dork, Wade."

"The dorkiest."

"That's true."

You took a sip from your soda and leaned back, letting out a content sigh as you did so.

"Thanks for coming over," Wade said as he grabbed his burger and began eating.

"Well, I do live here," you replied, your eyes darting toward the bag of nuggets. "I can't really go anywhere else."

Maybe you can’t, but he can go inside your—

"I was actually thinking we could spend the night together," you continued, oblivious to the naughty thoughts running through his mind. "We haven't done that in a while."

Wade nearly choked on his burger.

He swallowed quickly and let out a small cough before grabbing his soda and downing the entire thing. For once, the liquid soothed his parched throat.

"I mean, uh, yeah, sure, totally. It'll be just like the old days. You, me, Netflix, and chilling."

He couldn't help it, okay? Flirting was just one of the many things that Wade Wilson did naturally.

Just like his regular occurrence of having 207 bones in his body.

It wasn't his fault that his words came out suggestive. He fully meant it—every word.

Every single flirtatious word that tumbled out of his mouth. Every joke that came out as a compliment. Every compliment was more of a sexual innuendo than anything.

It was who he was.

It was the only way he knew how to talk to people. Especially the person with whom he was in love.

He couldn't just go up to you and tell you that you were the most amazing person he had ever met, or that your smile was so beautiful that it made his heart skip a beat, or that he loved the way you looked at him when you were happy, or the way your voice would turn into a squeal when you laughed, or the way you would blush when he flirted with you.

He couldn't say all those things because they were cheesy and cliche, and you would think he was lying.

So, he made jokes. He made innuendos. He made you blush and giggle and roll your eyes.

Because that was the best way to get through to you.

That was the only way.

Or, at least, that's what he had thought.

Now, the truth was a bit different. The truth was that Wade was scared. Scared that you wouldn't feel the same way. Scared that he would ruin everything. Scared that you would leave.

So, he flirted. And joked. And tried to act like everything was normal. Like he was still in his younger, good-looking, more handsome days. Like if he made himself delusional enough to believe he was still attractive, he could convince himself that he would always have a chance.

Because he wasn't, he was old, ugly, and damaged. And no one, not even someone as beautiful and kind and wonderful as you, would want someone who had gone through the things he had.

Who had done the things he had.

You didn’t show any signs of disgust or resentment when he showed up on your doorstep for the first time after his incident or even the next time. Or the times after that.

But Wade couldn’t help but feel like it would eventually happen, and you would eventually get tired of him that you would realize how damaged he was. How broken he was.

That he wasn’t worthy.

"Remember that party?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. You had a fond smile on your face as you looked up at the ceiling. "When you snuck into my room and convinced me to sneak out and have fun with you?"

Yes, yes, he did. He remembered it far better than you. And he knew that, even though you hadn’t said it, he knew that this was a memory he treasured more because… ironically, it was the only time you had ever done something rebellious.

You had been so shy and timid and afraid to stand up for yourself. You had always been afraid of going against the grain, of doing what other people told you to do.

Wade had always wondered why. He had always wondered what was holding you back. So, when he was able to drag you out of your shell and make you experience a night, you would never forget, well, he was a happy man.

It was also the night he realized things that he had never been aware of before. Physically things.

There was a moment he remembered vividly. The two of you were about seconds away from getting a picture taken by some drunk dude with a Polaroid camera. Wade, being the good friend he was, had wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close.

In that moment, he happened to glance at you when the flash went off and, well, it was a picture perfect moment.

We’re talking slow-mo, people becoming blurred background characters, a spotlight shining down on you two, his heart pounding in his chest, and butterflies flying around in his stomach.

The only thing missing was a sappy love song playing in the background.

He had always assumed that the sudden fluttering feeling in his stomach and the way his heart was pounding was due to the fact that he hated his picture being taken.

Or that he had accidentally eaten the wrong thing at the buffet.

But, as he stared at you, he started noticing every single detail. How pretty your eyes became with the extra glint of the flash. How your smile was as bright as a baby’s bare ass. How you were so oblivious to everything else except for him.

How the world suddenly became a blur, and all he could focus on was you.

How the music faded away. How he forgot how to breathe. How his heart felt like it was about to explode.

It was at that moment Wade realized, for the first time, what love was.

Wade had never been the one for grand gestures. He didn't know how to express his emotions in ways other than jokes or sarcasm. So, when it came to romance, he always preferred to keep things simple.

Like now, break-ins and food were his version of a romantic dinner.

However, when it came to the actual feelings part, the emotional part, and the vulnerable part, Wade had a hard time with that.

This was why, when you turned your attention towards him, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

"Why haven’t we ever dated?"

You blinked.

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, you responded, "You’re really affected by getting Checkers, aren't you?"

Wade could see the amusement in your eyes and he could hear the faint traces of humor in your tone, but, somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that you were avoiding the question.

He couldn’t tell if it was because you didn't want to answer him or if it was because you didn't know what to say.

And, for a brief moment, Wade hesitated to push you. He didn't want to make things uncomfortable. He didn't want to put you on the spot. He didn't want to scare you away.

But, then again, if there was anything Wade Wilson was good at, it was pushing people to their absolute limit.

So, he pushed.

"Skip the foreplay," he said, his voice firm and steady but not unkind. "Seriously, why have we never dated?"

Wade kept his eyes on yours, his expression serious, his body tense. He waited for you to speak, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach churning.

You were silent for a long moment, staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Because we're best friends," you answered finally, your tone matter-of-fact, almost as if you were stating a fact. "And, I… I just never thought about it.

Wade felt his heart sink. He knew that you weren’t lying. He could see it in the way your lips curled downwards, the way your eyebrows furrowed, and the way your shoulders slumped forward.

You were telling the truth.

It was a truth Wade didn’t want to hear.

He opened his mouth, prepared to apologize, to change the subject, to say something to make you laugh.

But, before he could utter a single word, you spoke again.

"Besides, it's not like you've ever been interested."

There was a hint of bitterness in your voice, a tinge of hurt in your tone.

It was a subtle reminder that Wade had a track record of being a player. A serial flirt who was never serious. A guy who flirted with every girl, who was constantly on the lookout for the next big thing.

He was the type of guy who would rather have fun than get attached. Or, at least, that's what everyone assumed.

At the tone of your voice, Wade immediately perked up, his eyes widening in surprise and his heart pounding.

The guttural laugh that escaped his lips caught you by surprise.

You flinched slightly and stared at him, your mouth agape, your eyes wide, and your expression bewildered.

"Sorry," Wade apologized quickly, his voice quiet and strained. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "But, goddamn, that’s… oh, man. You do not know how wrong you are."

"Oh, don’t even, Winston Wilson, this is not the time for your jokes," you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Oh, middle names, huh? Are we there already? Because I have to say, I didn't think you were the type of girl who'd use a guy's full name to show her disappointment, but I have to admit, it's kind of hot."

Wade smirked at the annoyed look that crossed your face, but it soon faded as he realized that you didn't find the comment amusing.

Instead, you seemed to grow even more frustrated.

"Wade," you started, your voice soft and low, your tone filled with frustration and sadness, "I don’t want to get into it right now, okay? Can we please just eat our food and watch a movie or something?"

You turned away from him, focusing your attention on the bag of Checkers.

He couldn’t let you avoid this.

"Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk," he began, his voice soft and gentle, "I'm just… did you seriously never think I would want to be with you?"

You paused and turned to look at him, a confused expression on your face.

"Of course not; why would I?"

The genuine shock in your voice and the innocent look on your face nearly broke his heart.

He thought he was being the most obvious motherfucker on the planet, but apparently, you had been as blind as a bat.

"I've been flirting with you for years," he reminded you. "I've been complimenting you, and asking you to hang out, and giving you gifts, and—"

"That's just what you do, Wade," you interrupted, shaking your head. "That's what you do to all girls. You flirt with them. You ask them out. You do the whole charming and funny routine. I’m sure if you knew their addresses, you would break in too."

Okay, ouch.

You weren't exactly wrong, but still, that kind of stung.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he insisted, his voice growing louder, his tone firm.

"What are you talking about, then?"

"I'm talking about you, okay? You’re like the Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Or, if I'm being completely honest, you're like chimichangas and tacos, and not just because they're both delicious, but because, let's face it, I'm addicted to you."

Your expression remained neutral, your eyes still boring into his.

"You're my best friend," he continued, his voice growing softer, his tone gentler, "and, yeah, maybe I used to flirt with other girls a lot, but I don't care about them. I don't even really know them. And, besides, none of them would be able to look me in the eyes right now, the way you are."

"Don’t start with that," you mumbled, averting your gaze and looking down at the floor.

"Start with what?"

"Being self-deprecating."

"It's not self-deprecating," he said, his tone growing defensive. His whole confession was momentarily forgotten. "It's true. I am a walking nightmare, and not just because I look like Freddy Krueger and Leatherface had a baby, but also because I've killed more people than I've seen naked."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven't seen you naked," you retorted, a playful smirk forming on your lips.

"Hey, don't tease me. I'm already emotionally vulnerable enough."

You snorted, but your grin was soft and warm.

"Okay, sorry," you said, your tone apologetic, your expression serious, "but, seriously, though, you’re not a nightmare. Not to me. I mean, sure, you look like a melted wax figurine, and your personality is like a mix between a hyperactive 10-year-old and a 70-year-old alcoholic, but, you know, I don't mind."

"Oh, you're too kind."

"My point is, it doesn't bother me, Wade," you assured him. "And it never will."

"Even if it does," he said, his voice quiet, his tone low, "it won't change the way I feel about you."

Your expression softened, the playfulness fading from your eyes. You looked about ready to let out some tears, but Wade had a feeling that they weren’t because you were sad.

"Did you really think that all this time?" you asked, the softness in your tone making his chest tighten. "You wanted to date me?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Yeah," he answered, his tone casual, "you’re hot, toots. Even hotter than me in my prime."

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile on your face. "I don’t know, Wade. The suit does you justice."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Is that your way of telling me that my ass looks good in this thing?"

"Oh, Wade, I don't need to tell you that," you replied, smirking. "You know how amazing your ass is."

You’re right. Captain America had nothing on him.

He let out a deep breath, his eyes fixed on yours. He was silent for a long moment, just taking in your appearance.

You didn’t change much from that day at the party. Maybe your facial features matured a little, and maybe your body grew a little more, but besides that, you looked the same.

The only difference was the look you gave him. The softness of your eyes. The affection in your expression. The gentleness of your smile.

It was the same look he constantly gave you when he thought you weren’t looking.

It was the look of someone who cared deeply for you. Someone who cherished you. Who wanted to make you happy. Who wanted to be by your side forever.

Someone who loved you.

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we kissed that night?"

He didn’t expect you to know exactly what he was talking about. Random question and all that. But, you surprised him once again.

"Why didn’t you?"

The question caught him off guard.

He was used to the playful banter, the light teasing, the random flirting. He wasn’t used to you being so forward. So blunt.

He was the blunt one. You were stealing his thunder.

"I was a cowardly bitch."

His honesty surprised both of you. He didn’t even plan on saying that. It was just the first thing that popped into his head.

It was true, though.

"Are you still a cowardly bitch?"

"I think so," he said slowly, "I think the main difference is, now I'm a cowardly bitch that knows what he wants."

He saw the way your cheeks reddened, the way you avoided his gaze, and the way you shifted your weight from side to side.

Wade Wilson may not be good at emotions, but he knew what those signs meant.

He was making you nervous.

He couldn’t help the small grin that spread across his face. He liked that. He liked that he made you nervous. That he made you blush. That he could make you flustered.

And, most of all, he liked that he was able to make you feel that way.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman was that shy and timid around him. Most of the girls he met were bold, confident, and loud… just like him.

He preferred your type, though. Sometimes, he even needs a break from his own obnoxiousness.

"So," he started, his tone casual, his posture relaxed, "you chill with the idea of ruining a perfectly good friendship and getting in a relationship with me? A crazy, scarred, murderous man who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut?"

He watched you take a deep breath, your eyes focused on his, a faint smile on your face.

"I'll consider it," you responded, your tone playful, a mischievous glint in your eyes, "but you have to answer one question first."

"Oh, a quiz? Can we have a prize for the winner?"

You chuckled.

"What's the question?"

You smiled.

"When you said that you've killed more people than you've seen naked, was that true?"

"Yes." He answered without hesitation. Something told him that lying was not an option here.

"And, when you said that the suit does me justice," he started, his tone casual, his eyes bright, and his smile mischievous, "was that your way of telling me that you want to see me naked?"

"You wish, Wilson."

"You're right. I do."

He didn't mean to sound so sincere, but, damn, the words just slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Wade watched as you smiled and turned your attention toward the bag of Checkers momentarily, and, for a split second, Wade worried that he had taken things too far. That he had scared you away.

He shouldn't have been worried.

Because, when you moved the bag to the table and stood up, his eyes immediately focused on the way your lips were twisted into a smirk and the way your eyes were locked on his.

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t need to. He was already nodding along for whatever plan was formulating in that pretty little head of yours.

And, when you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close and leaning in close, it was like he was back at that party.

It was the same feeling.

The nervousness. The anticipation. The excitement. The anxiety. The giddiness. The rush.

Everything was the same, except this time, it was actually happening. And, he was sober.

As you pulled him in, he leaned forward and closed the distance between you, kissing you slowly, his eyes closed, his hands on your hips, and his lips pressed against yours. The mask that had been halfway covering his face was now tossed aside by him to indulge in the kiss fully.

It was better than he could have ever imagined.

You were better than he could have ever imagined.

But then, his insecurities kicked in, and the reality of the situation hit him. In his mind, he had imagined this moment with his younger, healthier self. The buffed-out arms, the clear skin, the perfect jawline. He still had that scruff of a beard in his mind, and the outlines of his eyebrows did not melt completely.

But, when he felt your lips against his, and the softness of your touch, the warmth of your body, the taste of your tongue, he was reminded that you didn’t picture him as he once was.

You were seeing him as he was now. Hairless, deformed, scarred, a hot mess, and a complete disaster. And you were still kissing him. You were still touching him. You were still here.

It was better than anything his imagination could conjure up.

Because, for once, reality was better than fantasy. For once, he realized that maybe his face wasn’t a face only a mother could love and that maybe his looks weren't a dealbreaker for a certain somebody.

You broke the kiss and pulled away, staring at him, your face inches away from his. He stared at you, his eyes meeting yours.

He was searching, trying to read you, trying to figure out what was going through your mind. See if you had those second thoughts. If you regret this.

All he found, though, was that pretty little smile of yours. The one that made his heart skip a beat. The one that made him smile back.

"Well," you started, your eyes sparkling with mischief, "if it's any consolation, Wade, I think our friendship was pretty fucked the minute I decided to give you my number."

He raised an eyebrow, a grin forming on his lips.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded, biting your lip and leaning in close. Your hand reached up and cupped his cheek, stroking the skin softly. He shuddered. "I should've known the minute I decided to become friends with a guy who would willingly call himself Deadpool that it was a done deal."

He smirked, his fingers dancing across the small of your back.

"I'll try not to feel too offended by that."

"Trust me, you shouldn't," you murmured, your hand sliding down from his face to his shoulder, resting there. "It's not a bad thing, really. I mean, it's pretty awesome to have a friend who can take a bullet for you."

He smiled.

"Damn right, baby girl."

Your hand slid down from his shoulder, slowly moving down his arm, until you were grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"But, Wade," you continued, squeezing his hand lightly, your eyes focused on his, a frown on your face, "you have to promise me something."

"Anything," he replied instantly.

You hesitated.

"Promise me," you started, your voice firm, your expression serious, "you’ll start to see yourself as I do."

Wade blinked, surprised.

That was not what he was expecting.

"You have a crush on my scars?"

He couldn't resist. He had to crack a joke. He was nervous. When wasn’t he cracking a joke?

He was also confused, but, hey, the joke was funnier.

"No," you replied, rolling your eyes, a faint smile on your face, "but I see past the scars."

"And, the crazy?"

"That too."

"And, the murderous tendencies?"

"Yes, Wade, everything," you answered, grinning, your eyes bright. "I see all of it, and it’s about damn time you do too."

"Yeah," he breathed out, "well, it's not as easy as you make it seem."

"Nothing is, Wilson."

You stared at him, the softness in your eyes, the gentleness in your smile, the affection in your voice.

He couldn't believe it.

But he couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face, the warmth that filled his chest, or the butterflies in his stomach.

"I'll try."

For one of the rarest times in his life, Wade’s tone was completely sincere. Not a hint of humor or sarcasm. Just pure honesty.

And, judging by the way your face lit up and the way you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in close, hugging him tightly, you appreciated his sincerity.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, your eyes closing.

"Good," you whispered. "That's all I ask."

His arms wrapped around you and held you close, his fingers running through your hair, his nose buried in your neck. He took in your scent, letting it fill his nostrils, his senses.

And, for once, everything was quiet. Everything was calm. Everything was perfect.

He didn't feel the need to crack a joke. To make a comment. To ruin the moment. He didn't want to. He just wanted to sit there and hold you, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

He was content.

And he was happy.

Happy that you were with him.

And, most of all, he was grateful that he broke into your apartment and made himself comfortable on your couch.

[saradika]

— just can’t say goodbye

bodyguard!din djarin x princess!reader

rated e - 4.8k

tags: sorta medieval vibes, references to antiquated societal expectations, mentions and references to virginity, arranged marriage, technically infidelity because of said arrangement, light angst, sneaking around, first time, fingering, PiV, creampie

this is for the 1500 kisses event for @janaispunk! I got din + wedding! Jana, thank you so much for hosting this awesome event & for the gorgeous moodboard! 💖

“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”

He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.

“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.

"I have never meant anything more.”

(or - a final night is spent in the arms of your bodyguard, before your arranged union the next morning.)

You'd always known your duty.

What was expected from you, of you, drilled deep from an early age. Borne with pride - you were the eldest daughter of the king, after all - until you were wise enough to see that perhaps your obligations and loyalty were as much a chain as they were an honor.

Your life followed a well-worn path. Absorbing the lessons. Hours spent in learning about those before. Women like you - the graceful neck beneath the head of another lord, another king.

Support them, love them, bear them children.

It hadn't bothered you. You hadn't known anything else.

Not until him.

The Mandalorian had been assigned to protect you three years ago. A renowned knight, his allegiance first pledged to your father. And then, you.

Your bodyguard is not from your planet. It’s something you clung to - an endless source of information about things you've never seen or known, when his lips finally loosened.

But you had always seen him for more than just your bodyguard. That it was more than duty that bound you to each other.

Over time, during those hours spent with his back facing your door - a steadfast barrier between yourself and the cruel outside world - you had started to see between the cracks.

To read into his minute movements. Catching the tilt of his head and cock of his hip. The dry comments that slip from beneath his helmet.

Pretending he doesn’t care which of your handmaidens were caught in a dark corner with Ser Shand.

But you know better.

You think that perhaps you were doomed from the start. That it was always going to turn out this way between you.

Because when you had finally reached out to touch temptation - to sink your teeth into that sweet, ripe fruit - he had let you.

And at first - with the way he had allowed your hand to flatten against his armor, fitting into her personal space - you had wondered if it's because he wasn't able to.

People do not often tell you no. You've grown up in a carefully-carved mould - your requests are rarely things to be denied.

The thought had you shrinking back, the flat of your palm pulling back to fingertips.

Until his hand had closed around your wrist, tracing up to map the back of your hand. Bringing it back to smooth against his chest, right above his beating heart.

It had you realizing that perhaps he was just allowing you to take the first desire that has truly been yours. That your hopes and wishes had not been alone.

That all this time, he had simply been waiting for you to come to him.

Hours are spent together since, stolen between dusk and dawn. The near-silent wandering of hands and mouths.

That beskar armor nearly always fixed in place. It’s as much a part of him as flesh and bone. The edge of his helmet only lifting when he gets desperate. Sealing his mouth to yours. Deepening the kiss, until he’s all you can taste.

So much of him is still a mystery, but he’s come to know you as well as the back of his hand. Knows just how to make you bend, and then break.

Working his fingers between your thighs, until you’re shattering his arms. It will be enough to hold him over, until next time.

It has to be.

In the months since that first night, you’ve never tried to push. You’ve long known that you don't need to see his face - to strip him bare - to love him.

Determined not to ask him for more than he can give.

That is - not until tonight.

You've tried to hold on as long as you can. Always had been good at pushing things down. Grinning and bearing - with that polite, learned smile.

The dread you’ve been holding back crashes into you now, a charging lance against a shield. Splintering, and you can feel the ache in your ribs as if truly struck.

You cling to him. Stripped bare, his armor a welcome chill as your fingers slip between the fastenings of his armor.

Tonight, he allows you to loosen them. The room pitch-black, as the moon hangs full against a blanket of stars.

His helmet set carefully on your side table. Too dark to see him, a way around his creed. Trust woven in his actions, and you thank him with the soft press of your lips.

Against his throat. Teeth nipping skin as he groans.

He can’t leave a mark on you. Not a single thumb-print bruise - not with the way you’ll be stripped and scrubbed tomorrow.

So you leave ones on him. Reminders he can keep, until you can manage a moment alone again.

Desire swirls hot in your belly. Your own palm slipping down to tuck against his front, cupping him. Another part of him that he’s denied you fully.

“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”

The potential wrath of your family pales in comparison to the thought of being bound to another. The reality of your situation sets everything in sharp contrast, the pretty veneer you’ve been living in cracking at the seams.

Din’s breath is harsh in your ear - fingers stuttering where they circle against your clit at your plea, coated in your slick.

He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.

“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.

You might have thought he was angry, if you did not know him so well. If you couldn’t hear his own desperation, woven into each syllable.

It has your hips canting into his touch. Each word panted out, as your fingers stroke where he strains.

"I have never meant anything more.”

Your fingers pluck at his belt, but he eases them gently away. Catching your wrist with his spare hand, pinning it to the bed. His thumb sweeping against your skin, soothing as you squirm against him.

The fingers at your clit slip down to press just inside you. As if he’s thinking about it for just a moment, giving you what you’ve long desired.

But instead there’s a finality to his words, as his touch slips back up. Increasing the pressure until you’re moaning into your pillow, the tightly-wound stream about to snap.

His words, murmured into your hair, as you come undone.

"I won't let you throw your life away."

But how can you live, knowing that he won't be yours?

Not in the way you want him to be.

The man you’ve chosen to marry - a high-born Mandalorian from another clan - is kindly enough, but he is not your knight.

No one could be.

Your only solace in this union is that Din is going with you, honor-bound by his own sworn duties.

A blessing in spite of everything. You do not think you could do this without him.

But it does not make the lead-weight of your feet any lighter. The room spins in front of you, stretching long and think as your hearing fades out to white noise.

It's only the grip of your fingers into the King's bracers that keeps you upright. Nails digging into steel, as you take one step at a time.

Your wedding is as beautiful as it should be. As you've always dreamed - your dress in pretty layers of white and gold. Up since daybreak, primped and pampered.

It's enough to almost, almost, have you regret meeting Din. If you had not known a love such as him, you might have been content for a marriage like this.

But of course, it's no more than a fleeting thought. Immediately shut down.  

Better to know and grieve, than to not know at all.

You're still as stone, at the end of the aisle. All the movements practiced the night before - the events that had sent you rushing into Din’s arms after.

It hadn't seemed real until then.

Your lips feel carved into that smile. Hewn since the day you were born, your true feelings hidden in the dull sheen of your eyes.

Disconnected, as they drift. Annoyance flickering deep in your mind, when they slide over your groom.

His armor is ill-fitting. The leather straps at the shoulder stretched to their limits, hooked on the last notch. Too much space between the plates of his cuisses, and his poleyn.

You've spent weeks preparing for this, and he couldn't even dress in his finest for the ceremony. It feels like an insult, after everything.

Maybe if you blur your eyes, you can pretend it's him. Just until this is over.

The Cleric chants the words you’ve known since childhood. Repeating the phrases as your palm presses against your groom's. Each phrase bringing you closer to the end.

Only propriety and decades of lessons keep the quaver from your voice. They sound just as you practiced as they slide from you, even when repeated through muted lips.

There's a crackle of energy at the joining words. A golden string, glimmering.

Only now does your hand twitch. Resisting the urge to pull away. If you don't right now - right this very moment - then you will not get the chance again.

Your groom feels it. The slight tremble - his grip tightening around yours. The barest sweep of his thumb against your knuckles.

The movement startles you.

Just long enough for the string to loop around your joined hands, and then tighten.

It's too late now. Bound forever, until death do you part.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Your eyes go to his helmet, as the ceremony winds to an end. His finger and thumb catching on the hinge, as his head tips towards yours.

You can’t bring yourself to meet him. Not until his lips press to yours. Not until there’s an intimate familiarity to them.

The gasp that slips from you is quiet. A hushed thing, breathed into the chaste kiss. There’s scruff on his jaw where his skin should be smooth shaven.

The height is off, too - something you’re only just now noticing.

It’s like your heart remembers how to beat again. Confusion and hope swirling in you in equal measure.

You squeeze the hand in yours, as the kiss breaks. Eyes shining as you both turn towards the crowd, life finally flickering in them agin.

It’s here, that everything begins to fall apart. Almost fool-proof.

With a bang, a man stumbles through the arched door at the end of an aisle. The pale blonde of his hair is mussed - eyes wide and red-rimmed as he shouts, a finger pointing towards the pulpit.

“Stop them!” It’s a high, hoarse thing, “He’s an imposter-!”

There’s a rippling murmur, gasps and cries as the man’s voice carries.

But your husband’s hand is is tightly grasping yours.

“Trust me?” He mumurs, and you’re nodding.

Following behind him as he darts to the side, making for the hallway. Your skirts bundled up in a fist as your heartbeat pounds behind your ribs.

There’s voices behind you. The stomp of feet, though the guests and the hired protection do not know the castle the way the two of you do.

Ducking down one corridor, and then another. News hasn’t spread fast enough - there’s murmurs from guards that you pass, but they’re not quick enough to stop you.

The sky bleeds red when you burst outside. A ship waits, engines roaring - the same one you watched drop out of the sky years ago, with his first arrival.

“Su cuy'gar!” A voice calls from inside - another Mandalorian hailing as he rushes down the ramp, “You’re late. I’ll stall, but you need to go.”

It's one you recognize as a member of your Father's own guard, hand-chosen. Boba Fett's reputation for ferocity and loyalty preceeding him. Only now do you realize just where that loyalty truly lies.

“Vor entye, ner vod.” Din clasps his arm, a farewell woven into his thanks.

“Ret'urcye mhi, princess,” Boba’s head dips in a nod, “We’ll handle things from here.”

You’re whisked inside, and ship takes off just as guests begin to pour from the door. Boba blends into the crowd as you watch the scene from above, becoming no more than another bystander.

They grow smaller. Doll-sized, and then ants, and then the stars are streaking as the ship makes the jump - shooting you out into hyperspace.

It’s here that your legs finally give out. All that tension building up until it snaps, until you’re collapsing into the co-pilots chair.

Din’s hands are on you in a second. Gloves shucked with his teeth, discarded on the floor. Warm and familiar as they cup your face.

“I am sorry,” His voice is rough. Still distorted beneath your betrothed’s helmet, but you know it’s him, “I couldn’t let you marry him.”

“I know,” You head turns, lips pressing into the palm of his hand, “I was so afraid. I wanted to run, I almost did-”

He feels how you tremble. A ragged breath as his touch turns soft - smoothing over your cheeks, knuckles brushing your neck.

Your name is breathed out, as you relax against him. As your hands start to wander, tugging at the edge of his cuirass.

“I don’t like this on you.” Your voice sounds thick, in your own head. Biting through the emotions that threaten to choke you, “It’s not yours.”

“No.” He hums, and it sounds like a laugh, “Though as my wife, you may remove them now. If you wish.”

Din’s words makes you ache with want. His wife.

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if all that he said is true. He’s never allowed you to remove more than a piece or two before.

“Is your armor here?”

“Mine is in the bunk. Along with your things, I had them packed while you were getting ready today.”

You smile then. Relief in knowing that this was planned. That he had put the ball in motion, in those few hours you shared before dawn.

Maybe he had daydreamed about it for even longer. Knowing he could not, but still unable to help thinking through things. How he would always choose you, if only you were to ask.

And you finally had, at the very last second.

He lets your hands slip across his chest, mirroring that first night. New, in the way you slip the leather straps free, until pieces are left stacked on the floor.

The flightsuit beneath is his own. Your fingers have traced the stitching night after night, patterns you know by heart. And for the first time, he lets you tug at the zipper under his chin. Guiding it down with you, exposing tanned skin beneath.

It leaves you greedy. Fingers mapping every inch that appeared. Tracing over old battle wounds and scars from a lifetime ago. A pounding in your heart as each second stretches to the next.

Expecting him to take this back. To wrap himself away again, hiding from your eyes.

Soon, only his helmet and small clothes remain. Your fingers drifting to where he’s half hard, another part of him you already know well.

But his hands wander as well. Plucking at the ribbons that weave up the back of your dress, encasing you.

“Are you fond of this?” He’s asking, just as a fingers hooks beneath. The sharp tug that follows the shake of your head has the seams splitting. That ribbon starting to fray, and then snap.

Your gasp is almost as loud, as the fabric rips. The straps drooping down your arms as the dress starts to pool around you, dragged down by the layers of tulle.

“I’ll get you another,” Din rasps - watching, as you wriggle free.

Seeing the layers of lace beneath, meant for another man. Deep down, knowing it was always meant for him.

His bare hands catch at your hips. Sliding over skin, then up.

"I'll marry you again, cyar'ika. Properly,” Din’s words make you shiver, as his touch drifts across your arms, “As many times as you want, as long as you're mine."

“Yours.” You echo.

Reminding you about binding rituals of the ceremony - all the excitement of the escape almost making you forget.

But when his fingers catch yours, dragging your hands to the curve of his helmet, it’s impossible to think of anything else.

Intent in his movement. The tip of his head towards you, the muscles in his chest going tight as he holds his breath.

“Are you sure?” The beskar is cool beneath your touch.

You know what he offers you. Something akin to the vows you recited, something spoken in his own language.

“Yes,” He echos, “I’ve never meant anything more.”

There’s a weight, one of which you’ve never known. That this wasn’t just to save you. That he’ll wind up right back here as many times, until you believe him.

The lift of your hands is slow. Revealing the stubble on his neck, then chin. You’ve seen bits with the tip of his head. A knowledge that the hair is dark, but then there’s the soft curve of his lips.

Ones that you know the shape of, tracing yours fingers over them in the darkness. Pressed against every part of you, night after night.

There’s a patch of hair missing against his jaw. His nose, and you resist the urge to press your lips to it. A hint of curls, grey-flecked at his temples.

And then his eyes.

He needs the mask, you realize. You would have fallen immediately, looking into eyes like that. Warm and dark, as brown and pretty as his hair.

Everyone would have known what you meant to him, if that had caught him looking at you like this.

The exhale of your breath is low. Only a heartbeat until your mouth is pressing to his, insistent.

Hungry, unleashed fully for the first time. His hands slide up your hips, as the helmet hangs from your fingertips. Curling around your back, pressing you to him.

He’s dreamed of taking you countless times. Your own desires mirroring his - something flickering in your mind, now. A thought that maybe, you should move.

Down to his bunk, perhaps.

But there’s something about here. The cockpit, the streak of stars behind you. His strong thighs spread and bare in the seat before you, as you stand between them.

It’s easy to crawl into his lap. To straddle him, your clothed core already damp when you fit yourself against him.

You can feel groan in his chest as your palm flattens against him. One of his real ones - not modulated through metal.

“Please,” It’s hushed, whispered against his mouth. A rock of your hips, grinding against him.

He catches your hand, dragging it down again.

“It’s yours,” He husks, “It’s always been yours.”

Pleasure blooms low in your belly. Your fingers cupping against his length, before they slip beneath the fabric to curl around him.

Eagerly easing him out. His hips lift so you can shove his small clothes down. The weight of his cock trapped between your belly and his, as his own fingers trace the damp fabric at your core.

“I need you,” You breathe, arching into his fingertips. How they press and rub at you through the lace. It’s far past want.

Want was those early days, stolen glances from beneath your eyelashes as your solemn guard. Finding excuses to make him laugh, so sure he must be smiling beneath the helmet.

Din wears his expressions so openly without. His own desire shown in the grit of his jaw. Those lips that part on a groan, as your fist gives a slow pump.

The lace at your hips tears as easily as the ribbons that held your dress together. A pivot of his chair until he can lay you back against the metal panels of the dashboard, chilling fevered skin.

You whine at the distance that now stretches between you, but his hands only tighten where they grip at your waist.

“Shh, cyar’ika. I’m not going anywhere.” He soothes you, as the reason he moved you suddenly becomes clear.

It’s easier for his fingers to fit into you this way. The flip of his hand, as it faces palm-up. The tip of one stroking against bare skin. A familiar stretch as he slips to the first knuckle.

And then, as a shallow gasp slides from you, he sinks further than he’s ever been.

Had to hold back, before. Give you just a taste of what you’ve been wanting. This - the feel of him nudged so deep inside you.

“I know,” Your husband soothes, as his thumb nudges at your clit - distracting you.

From the slow plunge of his finger. How that quick twinge of discomfort bleeds into a pulsing throb you know well.

It’s not long before your hips are lifting. Your breath growing shorter, as a second fingers slips in to stretch you out. Getting you ready.

His cock is heavy where it rests on your thigh, the tip sticky against your skin. Flushed and swollen - making you realize that maybe you had been too hasty, thinking you could take him before.

Your own hands drift - and this time, you watch. Catching how dark and blown-wide his eyes get. The peek of his tongue between his lips when your fingers pinch at your nipples.

The way he inhales, when he feels you clench down around him. Back arching off the console, as his fingers curl against a spot that you never knew existed inside you.

“There,” You moan, as nudges against it again, “Din, please-”

His jaw grits, his voice low, “Yeah? Are you close, ner riduur?”

You’re used to the pretty names he calls you - a hidden way to show his affection. But never like this, with the soft purr of his voice. The way the words slide so easily from his tongue.

It must mean something special.

“Yes,” Your fingers pinch harder, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Biting back the panting gasp of your breath, as his thumb presses against your clit.

“Come for me.” It’s a command, but there’s a razor edge of need in his words, “Always sound so fucking pretty. Let me hear you.”

You’ve always had to hold back. Muffled into pillows, his palm of his hand as it clamps over your mouth.

The cry rips from you today, as you reach your peak. Eyes fluttering shut as the star-lines streak across your bare form - still bright, even as your vision darkens.

Your nails scrape against his skin, as he leans into you. Din’s mouth sealing to yours as you’re hauled into his lap, his thick fingers slipping free.

The kiss is messy, your mind still swirling as you reach down. Desperate for more, now that you’ve had a taste.

He pants into your mouth, “Don’t have to, cyare. This is-”

The words breaking off with a groan, as your fingers squeeze around him. His own need evident with how he throbs against your palm.

“‘s not enough,” You’re breathless, the dregs of pleasure settling low in your belly, “I’ve waited, we’ve waited-”

“Long enough.” He rasps, a flash of teeth in the darkness when you lean back.

Your nod is sharp. Determination in the pull of your shoulders as you lift up, angling his cock between your thighs.

A breath, and then you’re lowering yourself. The pressure you felt before is nothing compared to now - a muffled cry, as your nails bite into his shoulders.

As he stretches you open, even with how slick and ready you are. His own hands tug at you, trying to keep you from dropping down too quickly.

But you take him. You were made for him, after all. You decided that long ago. Even if you had joined with another, you’d never be theirs like you are his.

And you always were a quick learner. That competitive streak in you takes over now - figuring out just how to move in the cramped space.

That sting easing into pleasure, with the roll of your hips. The movement is familiar - you’ve sat astride him before, just never like this.

Never feeling this full, when your thighs are finally flush against his. Din’s hands guiding you like they often did - grasping at your waist, keeping your rhythm steady.

Even as it threatens to stutter, with just how good he feels. The angle you ride him sends him across the place his fingers found. Each drop of your hips sending you higher, eager to follow his murmured encouragement.

“You feel so fucking good,” It’s ragged and low - close to the tone he has when he comes, spilling across your belly, “Been waiting so long so have you like this-”

“Yours,” You sigh, again. Finally able to say it aloud, “I’m yours, we can have each other any time we want.”

Din groans at that, his hips bucking into you.

“Mine.”

It’s possessive. The hairs on the back of your neck standing up, as his fingers slip down again. Needing to know just how it feels to make you come around him, after imagining it for so long.

Your rhythm goes sloppy with his touch. Unable to figure out how to keep moving with your mind so clouded with pleasure. Chasing his touch as you bounce, head tilting back as his lips press against your throat.

Up, and then up, until he’s kissing you again. Your arms twine around his shoulders, curls tucked between pinched fingers as he brings you over the edge again.

Sharing a breath, as you moan into his mouth. His cock filling you as you clench down around him, almost as if trying to keep him inside as your orgasm pulses through you.

Din used to worry about monsters and beasts darkening your doorstep, never knowing he’d create one in you. Hungry like you’ve never known, eager for more even as your energy slips from you.

With his own desperation, he’s not far behind. Not with how you tight you are. Ready to give you everything, now that he finally can.

His jaw grits as he buries himself in you. Doing most of the work now, your legs leaden in your afterglow. Rutting his hips against yours, notching himself deep into where you’re wet and warm.

“Princess-,” Din rasps, like he used to. A low huff of a breath as you correct him.

Your lips at his ear, as you croon, “Riduur.”

“Fuck,” He groans at that, his voice dropping low, “Riddur, where do you want me?”

It makes you moan, the rough tone in his voice. How that name in his native tongue affects him just as much as you.

Your hips begin to move in earnest, skin slapping against skin. Those dark eyes on yours as you answer - finally able to express your hearts desire, after all these years.

“I want to feel you.”

His breath grows harsh, as your hips roll.

“Come in me. Please, Din.”

There’s no need for you to beg. He’s already there - a rough grunt as his hips near lift off the seat. Tugging you down and flush against him as he spills inside you.

You can feel him throb, as his warmth floods your walls. Threatening to spill from you, to leak onto thighs that are already sticky with your release. Sweat-dewed with exertion.

That heady ache of need fades, when you both come back down. It’s just bliss now, warm in your limbs. In his embrace. For the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re able to breathe.

The stars streak across his skin, illuminating pieces of his face. So like the stained glass back home, each feature split and soldered with darkness.

“Do you regret it?” His voice is low, barely audible over the hum of the engine, “Leaving with me?”

Your head tilts back, as you look at him again. A sight that you cherish, one you hope you can indulge in, but never take for granted.

And after all the questions that led to today - this one has been the easiest to answer.

“No,” You catch his hand, pressing it to your heart. Mirroring his words earlier.

“It’s always been yours.”

In every world - you would have gone with him.

Sometime amongst the late hours, you wind your way downstairs.

Fitting together in the narrow bunk, not minding the small space. Drifting off with a hand cradled against his neck. Thumb brushing his cheek, loathe to leave the warmth of his skin.

Soft dreams swirl in the moments you do sleep. In between the times when you wake - reaching for each other. Another hour spent twined together, re-learning every inch.

Not fearing the dawn, this time.

Because for once... your life is yours.

thanks for reading! and jana, thank you so much for hosting this event, I was so excited to celebrate with you! 💖

Su cuy'gar! - a friendly greeting (lit: "still live," i.e. "so you're still alive.")

vor entye - thank you (lit: "I accept a debt")

ner vod - my brother

ner riduur - my spouse / wife

ret'urcye mhi - goodbye