#if this is a repeat i sincerely apologize

[ghost-proofbaby]

hey ghost bestie, would u mind giving us an update on the new chapter of maroon? no pressure or anything but it has been the only story that occupied my mind since, just thought you should know 🫶🏻🥹

still coming along, im getting a new computer so my hope is once i get that i'll begin posting again in july!

that being said, it's been a lot of yearning for our favorite rockstar.

[ducktracy]

Hi 👋

Just had to say I had no idea there was a new Looney Tunes film out until you started posting about it. Where I live doesn't have a cinema but I went to visit my sister out of town and she lives near one so I am currently watching the trailers in said cinema waiting for TDEBU to start. Thank you for posting so loudly about the film because I would have missed out on seeing this otherwise since its a bit of a mission to go to a cinema for me atm

HEY THERE!!

AHHHHHH!! THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO HEAR!!! OMGGGG thank YOU for telling me!!! i'm sincerely so glad you could see it, especially with the lengths you had to go to!!! to hear that i could inspire you to go see it even in spite of the hassle is so so so touching and wonderful 🥲 i'm so happy you could go!! i hope you had a great time!! this really means a lot to me!!

[burningcheese-merchant]

would we hypothetically be allowed to redraw your pint art post of pepperjack becoming one armed in our style? ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

I saw another ask of yours pop up in my box today and thought "wait, didn't they ask me this already?" and lo and behold, yes. This is the original one lol. Mea culpa mea maxima culpa

Yeah absolutely! By all means! Everyone is more than welcome to redraw anything of mine, as long as you credit me for the original piece. I'm sure you'll do a better job than I did lol

[jestiamy]

maybe need to stop trying to learn other languages because I honestly think it's degrading my english speaking skills like. a somewhat noticeable amount already

[iliketomatosauce]

it took me so long to realize what a flannel is and I’ve reread all the riordanverse books like. Thrice in the past two months. I had to talk to a person for that can you imagine the horror (jk they were cool and I want one but also i need to take another iq test because there I’ve been walking past them for years and thought oh yeah that’s a CHECKERBOARD shirt seriously my brain is denser than an osmium nugget on Jupiter

[peachsayshi]

(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni) ok but do you know how quick sukuna would fold in an argument if he ever made you cry?

we know he can get there. we know he can be difficult to communicate. but picture this:

he barks another reply, his responses always so sharp. the frustration gets you riled up and you can’t help but sniffle, can’t help but let the welling tears finally fall. you turn your back to him, your shoulders slump and miss the moment where the realization strikes him, where all the irritation and anger inside him evaporates.

“you…you can be such an ass…” you murmur, choking out a sob as you wipe your tears.

you don’t want him to see you.

two arms are around your waist then, “I’m sorry,” he huffs, “fuck, angel, I’m sorry, please don’t cry…”

and you turn to his embrace, because you love him. because his apologies are incredibly sincere towards you, and you alone. his voice is suddenly so gentle, his words chosen ever carefully.

yes, he can be vicious and rabid - but not towards you. never towards you. the guilt eats him up alive.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, keeping you firmly against him. his chin resting atop your head, one hand massaging the back of your neck.

people say he’s incapable of this, but his love towards you is immeasurable regardless of their opinion. they don’t understand and they never will. but in a moment like this he will always hold himself accountable, reminding himself never to cross this particular line with you.

you should never taste his cruelty, no matter how natural it exists within him.

so, when he cups your cheek in his palm, his eyes drooping in regret, you know that he recognizes his mistake. his thumb wipes away the tears, his lips pressing to the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, “I lost my temper”

you squeeze your hand around the fabric of his clothing, another shaky breath leaving you. but when you gaze up at him from underneath your lashes, you know you’ve already forgiven him.

he rests his forehead against yours, another kiss follows but it’s a peck to your lips.

“you need to work on that,” you pout, your hands reaching for his jaw and he melts between your fingers like butter.

“I’m trying,” he exhales, mostly disappointed in himself. “I’m trying…”

[swearimnevergivingup]

so uh i'm thinking about ex-boyfriend!nanami. you broke up with him 3 years ago but he's never been able to move on. he's tried everything. everything under the sun, and none of it has ever worked.

he isn't even sure if forgetting you is what he wants. he thinks he wants to let you live in the spot carved out for you in his heart, whether that hurts him or not.

and when you run into him in the lobby of your apartment building? one thing leads to another and you find yourself splayed out on the couch obscenely, the oversized shirt you were wearing hiked up to your waist as you slowly part your legs for him.

the world blurs around you.

all you can think about is this very moment.

the significance of what you’re doing is entirely palpable to you. you’re inviting him in, not just to your house, but into your heart again. 

breathing heavily, your eyes follow his every movement in anticipation as his fingers dance across your inner thighs.

his hands slip underneath the waistband of your panties, two fingers sliding in between your slick folds. you tense a little at the sensation as he parts them, the rough pads of his fingers prodding the sensitive bud of nerves that makes you shiver and whine.

“god,” he groans. “i’ve fucking missed this pussy.”

you let out a little laugh at the foul language that slips from his tongue. it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice, and even longer since you’ve felt his touch.

“missed your cock too, kento,” you murmur, eager to show that you’ve been equally longing for him, if not more. you want to hear more of him, so you reach your hand out to palm at his erection. he’s rock hard, and there’s a little wet spot on his pants from the precum.

“fuck,” he mutters, tilting his head back. “it’s been a while.”

you giggle at that, a little woozy from the wine. “it’s been a while for me too.”

“n-no, you don’t understand,” his grip on your hips tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure. “you were the last.”

oh.

your eyes widen at that revelation, stopping your movements to fully look at him. “w-why haven’t you—”

for the second time tonight, you find yourself in complete disbelief. you were the last person he slept with? that had been more than 2 years ago - way more than enough time for things to change, for someone else to come along.

but then again, nanami’s always been a serious man, and by extension, that applied to his love life too. never one to seek out casual hookups, that man dated to marry. 

“i didn’t want anyone else. only you,” he murmurs. “that hasn’t changed.”

your heart is not the only thing that clenches at the raw sincerity in his voice. 

“say it again,” you whisper. “i want— i want to hear you say it again.”

“i only want you.” nanami must have realised how much you needed to hear that, the same way he had needed your confirmation earlier, because his voice is more resolute this time. “and this—” his hand moves to cup yours, guiding your movements as he slowly drags your hand over his cock. “s’all for you, sweetheart.”

one hand reaches for the back of your neck, holding you tenderly as he peppers kisses on your lips and all over your neck.

the other hand, though, moves deviously between your thighs, a singular digit plunging into your soaked cunt. 

nanami relishes the way you gasp into his mouth, back arching off the couch as all sorts of pretty sounds drip from your flushed lips.

i love you.

i still love you, after all this time.

he doesn’t say it out loud - no, it isn’t the right time. 

but he repeats it loudly enough inside his head, hoping that somehow, you might hear it too. 

a/n: this is part of my upcoming work: i never moved from where you left me (nsfw)

there are apologies to be made, lost time to reclaim, and parts of each other waiting to be rediscovered. and yet, you know him like an old song. you know the words, carved into the lining of your skin, you know its melody, a soft hum that echoes in the chambers of your heart. nanami kento is that lingering rhythm, that pained harmony, existing deep within the cracks of memory and longing - an unfading symphony in your soul.

comment if you would like to be tagged! <3

edit: some snippets here! taglist closed :)

[hot-patootiee]

Part 2 of this. And can you tell I had issues with my ex? Like holy shit I’m having flashbacks writing this.

Nancy stands up and walks over to Eddie though, and gently pushes him towards the door.

“Go fix it.” She demands.

Eddie makes a confused sound as he is gently pushed out of the house, having to push open the door or be squished into it.

…

When Steve’s doorbell rings again, he’s getting a little annoyed.

He swings open the door and Eddie is there.

Steve begins to close the door.

Unfortunately he is forced to deal with his feelings, so Eddie puts a hand on the door and pushes it open.

“Did you think we were dating?” Eddie seems almost accusatory in his tone, which immediately annoyed Steve.

“What do you mean by ‘think’ Eddie? I asked you out, you said yes.” Steve was still trying to shut the door in Eddie’s face, but he looked more angry than sad. “Unless this is some sort of strange apology and declaration of love, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“It is! It is! Just don’t close the door.” Steve furrows his brows and lets the door swing open.

Eddie stumbles in, tripping over the entrance and nearly falling into Steve.

Steve stares at Eddie, waiting.

“I thought you were just experimenting and I’m so sorry for thinking your confession was a joke.” Eddie says sincerely, shifting slightly on his feet in discomfort.

“You think everything I do is a joke. Everyone does! Poor little Steve Harrington gets hit in the head too many times and now is incapable of a coherent thought.” Steve finishes with a self deprecating laugh. His eyes are shining and Eddie can see the rage festering in them, the resignation transforming into simmering anger.

Eddie opens his mouth to refute it, but is cut off instead.

“Was kissing me a joke too? Am I too stupid to know?” Steve moves into Eddie’s face, crowding him before pulling back suddenly. A strong gust reminds Eddie the door is open and anyone close enough could hear them.

“No, no of course not. Shouldn’t we close the door?” Eddie suggests.

“You’re the dumbass who didn’t close it. There is no we in that.” Steve sneers at Eddie’s implication at Steve being incompetent.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Eddie murmurs, pushing the door hard and letting it swing shut. His shoulders are hunched, as if he was trying to placate Steve by making himself smaller.

“I thought you were different, I put up with everybody else calling me stupid all the time, because most of them are children, and I thought you, my boyfriend, was different. But, apparently, you think I’m too incompetent with my own feelings that you need to make the judgement for me.”

“I thought you were joking.” Eddie repeated, Steve was honestly beginning to hear the needle on the vinyl from how many times Eddie had been repeating himself.

“And when I kissed you, was I still just joking?” Steve probed.

“No, can you just let me explain for a second?” Eddie spat his words out quickly, knowing if he went slower Steve would continue to yell at him.

“No, because you’re charging in here with some half cocked apology to try to fix something, just because someone else pointed out that you should. You need to feel better, so you came over to apologize, without considering that I’ve been wallowing in my house for days because of something you did. Actually fucking apologize because you feel bad about putting me in pain, not because you want to stop being uncomfortable with your own actions.” Steve lectured, he massaged the bridge of his nose slightly in an attempt to alleviate his own frustration.

“What do you want me to do? How do I fix this?”

“Those are questions you have to answer yourself. Maybe apologize with something that screams ‘sorry for thinking our entire relationship was a joke’. If you come here with some fucking flowers or chocolate and think that that’s adequate, I will break your fucking guitar.” The wrinkles in Steve’s brow just became deeper as he threatened Eddie. His muscles trembled slightly as he reminded himself of how angry he was.

Eddie nods, looking slightly resigned.

“Oh, and your fucking behavior should change, treat me like a goddamn person. I pulled your ass out of hell, I’ve proved myself to be capable a thousand times over. Treat me like I am.” Eddie couldn’t help but focus on how Steve’s hands shook.

Eddie nods and begins to pull away from Steve, looking sad as he slowly moves to the door.

“What are you doing?” Steve looked genuinely puzzled, prompting Eddie to stop with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m leaving, I didn’t think you’d want me here.” Eddie shrugged, looking a lot like a kicked puppy as he whimpered. He then began to turn the doorknob to exit the Harrington house.

“What did I just say about making decisions for me?” Steve has his hip cocked and his hands resting on his waist in his signature annoyed mom look. Eddie freezes, unknowing of what to do.

“Come on, go to my room and wait, I just need to run the dishes.” Steve shoos Eddie, who quickly scampers up the stairs and slipped inside Steve’s room. He was unsure of what to do so he waited at the foot of the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

He isn’t sure how long he waits, but Steve finally pads into the room.

Steve pushes Eddie onto his back. Crawling inbetween his legs.

Eddie opens his mouth to express his confusion, but is interrupted by a firm “scooch” which spurs Eddie into backing up into the headboard. Steve follows quickly behind.

Steve tucks himself into Eddie’s collarbone. He settles easily, even though Eddie is still incredibly tense.

“Tell me the other thing you came here to say.” Steve demands.

“Oh darling I like you so much. I’ll stay with you forever, I’m so sorry for leaving.” Eddie rambles, like the floodgates holding him back had been released.

“Again?” Steve said quietly, barely louder than his breath.

“I like you a lot, Steve. I got the biggest crush on you. Never thought you’d ever like someone like me. I don’t deserve you.” Eddie ends with a damn near whimper, but Steve’s resolve didn’t change in the face of Eddie’s words.

“You’re right, you don’t. You left me and you were planning on leaving me again if I didn’t accept your apology. It’s been days and all I want is to be with my boyfriend.” Steve’s voice slowly tampered down to a whisper as he spoke.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” Eddie murmured shamefully.

“Yea, no shit.” Steve snapped.

“I’m sorry.”

“Your formal apology better be fucking amazing.” Steve countered playfully.

“I’ll do my best.” Eddie pauses for a second. “What if it’s not good enough?”

“Then I break up with you.” Eddie deflates slightly. Steve continues though. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t value me or respect me, I’ve made that mistake before.”

Eddie felt his stomach sink, but began to brainstorm on how to make it up to Steve.

Btw El and Will are making Brownies for Steve rn.

PART 3 IS HERE

Omg I’m such an ass, pt 3 coming soon if I’m harassed enough to do it.

Also, psa if you fuck up big, you need to actually show you’re sorry. Don’t apologize to make yourself feel better, apologize to make the other person feel better. Make an actual effort to not repeat your past actions. If someone doesn’t accept your apology, remember you aren’t entitled to their forgiveness. No matter how much society tries to act like you deserve it for simply apologizing.

Also if it isn’t evident, I was forced to accept a lot of apologies when I didn’t want to.

@stripey82 @genderfluidbitch @mensch-anthropos-human @c4tharsys @scoops-aboy86 @breealtair @raleighrox @wannabe-edgy-grandpa @flustratedcas @shoujo-wizard @polysdoitforscience @exasperatedsighohmy @piemaker93 @tinyplanet95 @skepticalqueen @sharingisntkaren @scarletyeager @crypticcrytid @midnightskeeper @wheneverfeasible @ancientwormcivilization @fucjinf-whatever-dude @estrellami-1 @queenofshenanigans @grilledcheesehasfeelings <- get out of my walls

@ellietheasexylibrarian @live-laugh-love-dietrich @turinspeachjam @me-ig7 @revevivant @motherofpirates @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @samsoble @legalmenace87 @thehanwen @bigspongey @thedragonsaunt @newagemyth @pentapoctopus @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @bumbledoubletea @blackbirdflyflyfly @what-if-a-dragon @reddiandbyler4life @i-think-i-thunk @gregre369 @fiddledeedee85 @ladykailitha

Rest of the mentions will be in the comments because fuck there is a lot of you.

[itelya]

Can I request ex military husband Sukuna and Toji reacting to their son calling y/n the b word? 😂 I just know they’d be furious and practically leap over furniture to snatch the kid up not knowing it’s a prank

a/n: ty for the request it was fun to write😂 also tysm for the 1k followers! 💗 ⟢﹒ masterlist

You're in the kitchen, chopping fruit, the sun filtering gently through the curtains. Your son is sitting at the counter, his elbows propped, his eyes fixed on you. Too quiet. Too focused. He has that look, that posture... the one that announces a monumental stupidity.

"Mom... you are a bitch," he says quietly.

The word falls like a thunderclap in your ears. You stop dead in your tracks, the blade still in your hand. Your gaze slowly rises, your eyebrow arches, icy. You don't know whether to scream, burst out laughing, or simply disown him right then and there. Your heart is between disappointment and anger.

In the living room, deathly silence. Toji, slumped on the sofa, opens his eyes slowly, and Sukuna, leasing on the armchair, raises his head so quickly that his neck cracks. Toji freezers, his eyes fixed on their son, the expression of someone about to go into battle. Sukuna stands up without a word, his jaw clenched.

They exchange a look like two soldiers who've just picked up an enemy signal.

"He didn't say that..." Toji breathes.

"He dared." Sukuna replies, already moving.

Your son immediately turns pale. He should never have done that, even for a laugh. "IT-IT'S A PRANK! A TIKTOK! I SWEAR! IT WAS A JOKE, JUST TO SEE YOUR REACTIONS!"

"A prank?!" the two men repeat at the same time, their voices deepening.

Toji leaps from the couch. Sukuna crosses the room at terrifying speed, and their son rushes out of his chair, fleeing toward the dining room as if his life depended on it. Hiding behind the dining table makes him forget one detail: no piece of furniture can protect him from two highly trained ex-soldiers.

"When did they raise you to think a word like that should be tested?!" Toji snarls, stepping forward.

"Do you want us to laugh too by sending you to a retraining camp in Kyrgyzstan for six months?" Sukuna adds with such menacing calm that it sends shivers down your spine.

"But you were laughing when I said 'shit' at 4 years old!" their son desperately tries, accused from behind the table.

"To think I was ready to give you my old service knife for your next birthday..." Toji snarls, his gaze dark. "But forget that. I'd rather give it to the dog."

Your son opens his mouth to defend himself, but Sukuna raises his hand sharply, cutting cleanly.

"You want to be smart? Fine. Apology letter to your mother. Three hundred push-ups, and while you're doing them, you keep repeating 'Sorry, Mom, I'm an impressionable idiot' over and over again."

Toji quietly snuck up behind him. He grabbed him in a flash, lifting your son with a firm arm. "You want to talk like an adult? You're going to live like a soldier."

"But I've seen other kids do it...!" your son complains, offering to climb out of Toji's enormous arms.

"A follower, too?" roars Sukuna, outraged. "I was a unit captain, not some pathetic TikTok sheep."

Toji chuckles softly, that sadistic little laugh you recognize all too well. "Let's start by shaving his head. It'll help him think."

Your son starts to cry for real, shaking like a leaf. He doesn't want to lose his beautiful hair. You approach, calm, gentle, your hand outstretched.

He turns to you, relieved. This is your only chance. His light. His mother. You gently place your hand on his head, stroking his hair like a promise... then you smile. "I'm the one who's going to shave it."

A cry escapes his throat, pure and sincere. "Mom, I'm sorry! I swear I'll never do it again! I love you! You're the best parents in the world! I'm too young to lose my hair!"

Toji and Sukuna cross their arms, stoic. They look at him, already deciding what to do with him.

"Too late, soldier. The uniform starts now."

[goaskangel]

I just got done reading your roommates! John and Simon and the extra with just John. I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but I was wondering if we could get an extra with Simon and reader? I imagine the specific part where he catches them mid masturbation one night with the vibrator, rough praises as he talked them through it, them writhing on their bed as they push the vibrator in and out. Maybe he noticed them getting tired being a college student and all with exams he takes over and pushes them over the edge with that final orgasm before inevitably throwing the toys out knowing that reader would have no choice but to go to him or John in the future. This has me in a chokehold i apologize for the repeat of information you’ve already written out but the scene would be so good written out I think especially as a opening to their sexual relationship and just overall.

i am taking requests and thank you for this one !! ^3^ continuation of this

roomate!simon just wants you to rely on him.

ever since you walked into the flat, meeting john as he helped you with unpacking, you waved at simon. a small smile at your lips, he could tell you were nervous. he hadn’t expected to care this much. not really. but the way you hunched over in your hoodie, looked around—like you were apologizing for taking up space—made something in his chest twist. but god, he was beyond excited. gave price a good slap on the back for finding such treasure.

he liked that you were shy at first, eyebags pulling at your lash line and heavy books in your arms. your fingers trembled slightly. he noticed. noticed the ink smudges on your soft skin, the way your sleeve kept slipping down your wrist. you looked like you hadn’t slept in days. he liked that, too. he knew tired college kids like you were all caffeine and sex addicted, but you had something else—something soft. you showed major gratitude like it cost you something, like you weren’t used to being helped. 

sure, he gave his bud a huge thanks, but it was more than just gratitude, it felt like more a promise that he’d control himself. back then.

he liked using your sweet sincerity. not in a cruel way, not exactly—just enough to get you feeding him cake on the couch. fork to mouth. bite after bite. you contained this sudden excitement pooling in your stomach. he chewed. he wasn’t around much, work kept him late. but the fridge stayed full. coffee never ran out. eggs or bread. that lemonade you like. you started staying out of your room more. started sleeping in, started acting like the place was safe. he watched it happen, almost admiring his work. watched you melt into the furniture. watched you forget to be careful. and, yeah, he liked that too. but he needed something more. get closer to you, stop being so subtle.

he knew you liked to masturbate. hidden in your room, if he or price came to knock, you’d take a little to actually open the door. the buzzing would stop, the blinds were always closed, the room was dark, and the sheets would be pulled over. sometimes pillows would be out of place. poor girl, he once thought, no one to help her.

and now you’ve forgotten to lock the door, simon forgot to knock and there you were, legs open with your hand down your panties. probably the most beautiful you’ve ever looked in simon's mind,  you’re frowning—not in a sad way, but just struggling to reach your high. before you see him and even apologize, he’s sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“shouldn’t hafta work so hard, bird.” he strokes your naked calf, much too casually for your liking. he sees the wet patch of your panties grow, he smiles, “take ‘em off, go on now.” you obey, slight disbelief in your eyes as you roll them down, tossing them as he keeps your legs open. “yer not jus’ a pretty face, then.” 

your face burns up when he rubs a thumb down the slit of your heat, moaning gently at the feeling of your clit being stimulated. he keeps you relaxed, telling you that it’s gonna be fine—he knows how your mind wanders. “jus’ wanna help a sweet girl like you out.” he tells you to use your bullet vibe, to fuck yourself with it. and you do, you take it back in your fingers and switch it back on. you maintain eye contact with him as you slide it inside yourself, you wished it was one of his fingers instead, maybe even his cock. he’s hard, too, you caught a glimpse and mentally frown. he wants you and you want him—can’t he just give it to you now?

“behave, bird. continue.” he noticed your lack of movement before you go back to twisting it back in and out. and then as if he read your mind—“come for me, baby, you want it? gotta earn it.”

fucking roomate!john

[vmlnrzmp4]

Hiiiii!! I've been waiting for your requests to be open to send in a request lol I love your blue lock dad series so I wanted to request Blue lock dads reacting to the tiktok prank where the mom tells the child to do something and the child tells the mom to shut up to get the dad's reaction.

I hope you understand what I'm trying to say 😭 Thank you <33

"𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘮𝘢."

a/n: this except that it's not a tiktok prank, the daughters are bratty for real. and im glad you like my works :)

itoshi sae

the second the words left natsuki’s lips, everything turned cold. sae, who had been scrolling through his phone, immediately stopped. he turned to look at his daughter with a firm look.

you sighed, shaking your head, "natsuki, that was so uncalled for."

but before you could say more, sae interrupted, "apologize."

natsuki stiffened, "but—"

"now."

he didn't yell and there was no anger in his voice. just firm disappointment.

natsuki swallowed, now feeling guilty, "...i’m sorry, ma."

sae looked away from her, "go to your room. i don’t want to see you right now."

and that hurt. more than his actual scoldings.

itoshi rin

everything froze. sakura never ever spoke to you that way, but today..."...what did you just say?" rin questioned, his voice was dangerous.

"i—i didn’t mean it like that—"

"repeat that," rin ordered firmly.

"i was just mad—" sakura tried to reason but was cut off.

"i don’t care if you’re mad. now will you repeat that?"

sakura stayed silent.

"that's what i thought," rin looks at you if you're alright, your eyes filled with sadness, "apologize."

sakura looked down, mumbling an apology.

"louder. look up."

"...im sorry ma."

isagi yoichi

"yuki," yoichi calls sternly, his voice was so so scary, "how could you say that to your mother?"

"papa, i didn't—i—"

"is that how i raised you yuki?"

the guilt hit yuki like a truck and she looked down, not wanting to see her papa's disappointed face. "...i’m sorry, papa," she whispered.

"don’t apologize to me."

she turned to you immediately, eyes filled with tears, "i’m sorry ma."

frustrated, yoichi runs his hand over his face and yuki sees the displeased look on his face and she couldn't help but let out a sob.

michael kaiser

for once, there was no teasing, no jokes, no laughter. michael was mad. "...repeat that," he asked in a stern but angry tone.

anne hesitated. "...papa, i didn’t mean—"

"repeat it."

she couldn’t.

michael scoffed.

you placed a hand on his arm, but he stepped away, "you know, anne, when i was a kid, i never had a mother who cared enough to argue with me. you? you have that. and you just—" he cut himself off, shaking his head, "go to your room, anne. just...go."

anne had never seen her father so tired, "...i’m sorry, papa," she sobbed but he had already turned away.

she then turned to you with teary eyes, "im sorry ma," she apologizes, her eyes telling you she was sincere. and that she didn't want her papa to be mad at her anymore.

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp @vellichorira @sapph1r3x @tamashithe2nd @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 [open]

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Afternoon Appointments

Warnings: SMUT. THIS IS BASICALLY JUST SMUT AND ONLY SMUT AND I WON'T BE TAKING QUESTIONS. MINORS DNI.

There is some fluff. Mated Eris and Reader. Unprotected sex (male and female receiving). Voyeurism. *Breeding?* they're trying to make an heir for the court so it's spice with the intent of getting pregnant. Also mentions of infertility and struggles to get pregnant. Oral, vaginal, fingering, take your pick.

Word Count: 6,201 - my bad.

Honestly, I just wanted to write something a little spicy since I've been drowning in the slow burns, but now I'm considering making this a shorter story as a slow burn palette cleanser, but it depends on how you all like it!

Summary: Eris, your mate, catches you between both of your court duties and is keen on ensuring that no time is wasted between the two of you. After being mated over a decade, you've been trying to conceive an heir, unsuccessfully and are hoping this delightful afternoon reprieve might finally be the ticket.

SMUT BELOW THIS LINE. BE AWARE.

Initially, you didn’t notice him as you walked at a brisk pace through the open-air walkways of the grand Autumn Court Manor. Your thoughts were consumed by the myriad of responsibilities you had planned for the rest of the day—consultations with court advisors to deliberate over a diplomatic journey to the Summer Court, sifting through an overwhelming stack of letters from neighboring villagers requesting a ceremonial visit from you and your mate for the anticipated harvest, and enduring the relentless pleas from courtiers eager to propose another extravagant party that you had little desire to attend.

Your mind was a whirlwind of tasks, repeating them quietly to yourself as to not forget to add them to the ever-growing to-do list in your office that you were oblivious to the familiar intoxicating aroma of woodsmoke and cinnamon that heralded the approach of your mate. Eris.

He was drawing near from the opposite end of the hall, yet your eyes were nearly glued to the ground as you continued to mull over how you were going to respond to the multitude of letters.

You collided with a solid wall of muscle, a soft “oomph” escaping your lips as you stumbled back, your cheeks flushing. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even—”

You looked up, finally realizing who you had so unexpectedly bumped into. Eris was towering over you, gazing down with a teasing smile emerging from him. His lips curled slightly, just enough to reveal a hint of his teeth, while his amber eyes shimmered, capturing the sunlight and making them look like threads of gold spun through them.

You let out a playful scoff, stepping back with a lazy grace.

“No, no,” Eris teased, his voice dripping with charm. “Please, do continue with your heartfelt apology for so boldly running into me.”

You rolled your eyes, a small snort escaping you as you shook you head and then lifted your head back to look at him again. “Oh, believe me, I am soooo deeply sorry for my transgression, my lord,” you drawled, your voice riddled with mock sincerity.

Eris released a rich, velvety laugh that resonated from deep within his chest. “Naturally, my lady,” he replied.

Your eyes fell to the floor as you brushed back the stray strands of hair that cascaded into your face. Eris seemed to sense the immediate shift in your mood. “But honestly, is everything alright, my love? You seem… preoccupied.”

You glanced back up at him, a soft, airy laugh slipping from your lips. “I’m fine,” you murmured with a gentle shrug. “Just jugging a lot of priorities today.”

A mischievous glint lit up Eris’s eyes as he closed the distance between you, maneuvering to press your back against the wall, his hands resting on either side of your face, enclosing you within his presence. “Do you know what’s been preoccupying my thoughts today?”

You tilted your head slightly, peering up through your lashes. “I doubt it’s anything virtuous,” you teased.

Eris’ voice was a sultry purr as he leaned closer, his scent enveloping you in an almost intoxicating haze. “Certainly not,” he whispered, his breath caressing your skin.

His fingers traced a languid path down your face, gliding over your jawline and neck as you melted into his touch. “I’ve been consumed—tormented, really,” he murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear with delicate finger, “by this almost insatiable desire to be utterly and entirely devoured by my mate.”

Your heart fluttered wildly, your breath catching as he leaned down to graze his teeth lightly over your exposed ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that so?” You teased, leaning into his soft kiss as he dragged his lips down the side of your ear, nipping at the soft flesh.

Eris responded quietly with a small groan of agreement.

You gently nudged against his chest, wriggling out of his firm hold with a teasing grin. “As much as I regret leaving you in despair, I’ve got a busy agenda today” you remarked, your eyes twinkling as he reached out, grabbing you hand again,” you noted, smiling at him as he reached out and grabbed your hand.

Eris swiftly drew you back against him, his strong arms enveloping your shoulders. “And nowhere on that oh-so-important schedule is a moment to indulge your devilishly charming, handsome mare?” he teased.

You tilted your head up, resting your chin on his solid, sculpted chest, offering him a coy smile. “Sadly, my assistant didn’t book any time for you today,�� you replied.

Eris rolled his eyes dramatically, letting out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “I’ll have to have words with that meddling female who seems determined to keep my beautifully enchanting mate just out of my grasp.”

He looked down at you, his smile radiating a warmth that sent a flutter through your stomach. Bending down, he brushed his lips against your tenderly before deepening the kiss with a more fervent intensity. His hands cradled your face, fingers threading through your hair and holding you still in a kiss that was all-consuming.

You didn’t even think about it, moaning softly into his mouth as he enveloped you in another long, shivering kiss. The corridor's dim light cast shadows across the stone walls, cold and unyielding against your back. His kiss caught you so off guard that he had you once again pinned against the rough, cool surface, his hands leaving your face to rest at your hips. His thumbs pressed and kneaded into the soft, sensitive skin, sending tiny shivers down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers weaving their way into the thick, auburn strands of his hair. Your nails lightly grazed over his scalp, eliciting a deep, resonant groan that vibrated into your open, waiting mouth.

A smile broke through the kiss as he leaned back, his eyes glinting with mischief as he raised a brow. “You’re going to really get me riled up and not let me have a few minutes of your time?” he asked teasingly, his voice a playful murmur.

You didn’t respond with words, just inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, and pulled him back by tugging gently on his hair, drawing him into another deep, consuming kiss. Eris slid his hands beneath your thighs, effortlessly lifting you higher against the wall, as if he needed to be even closer. But as he did so, and you felt the fabric of your dress slowly inching upward, exposing your skin to the cool air, the awareness of your very public setting.

You pressed a hand firmly against Eris' chest while he moved in to plant heavy, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, attempting to gently push him back. "Eris—" you murmured softly, your voice barely a whisper as his hands confidently squeezed and tugged at your thighs, his body rhythmically grinding against yours. When he didn't respond, you repeated yourself, trying to infuse a different tone into your breathless whisper. "Eris—"

He leaned back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intense, smoldering heat in his eyes. "What?" he asked, his breath coming in soft pants. "What is it?"

You glanced anxiously in both directions down the corridor, relieved to find it still deserted and echoing with silence. "Eris, as much as I would love for you to take me right here," you said, your voice a mixture of longing and practicality, "it is the middle of the day, in a very regularly used walkway."

Eris groaned, tilting his head back to reveal the taut, sinewy muscles of his neck, which beckoned you to sink your teeth into. He returned his gaze to you, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly smile. "But doesn't it just amplify the promise that the High Lord of the Autumn Court and his mate are so determined to provide their court with the next heir that they're willing to seize the opportunity at a moment's notice?" he asked, raising a teasing brow.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. For nearly a decade, you and Eris had been trying to produce an heir since your mating ceremony, yet success had eluded you, and the urgency to secure the future of the court with him weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You gave him a rather incredulous look. “My love, even though you have a storied past filled with daring exploits and more brazen partnerships, some of us still have a bit more of an upstanding reputation to uphold,” you replied, your voice tinged with playful reproach.

Eris let you drop down slowly, your feet gently returning to the polished marble floor as he gave you another long, lustful stare. His eyes were like burning embers, filled with a fiery intensity that seemed to melt away any resistance you had left. “I would say that it’s more than proper to truly show just how dedicated we are.” Eris winked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then began pulling you down the grand corridor.

You let out a mildly exasperated sigh, the sound echoing softly off the stone walls as he tugged you along. Yet, you followed willingly, unable to ignore the intense need that now roared through your body, urging you forward with a fiery insistence.

Eris led you back into the manor, saying nothing as he walked ahead, his hand firmly clasped in yours. His pace was fast enough, desperate enough, that you had to break into a slight, stumbling jog to keep up with him. Your laughter bubbled up, a soft, breathless giggle escaping your lips as you passed one of his advisors. The advisor attempted to stop and ask him something, but Eris, with a firm yet playful authority, simply said, “It can wait,” before continuing his determined path.

Finally, after ascending a winding set of stairs, Eris pushed open the grand, ornate doors leading to your shared chambers and practically propelled you through the threshold. You burst into laughter, stumbling over the intricate folds of your dress, your hand instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against one of the elaborately carved bedposts, while the other clutched your stomach as you gasped for air amidst your laughter.

Eris followed you through the doorway with a graceful, long stride, pulling the doors closed with a decisive thud and standing before them like a sentinel, his eyes gleaming with amusement as his own laughter slipped from his lips.

He crossed the room in a swift motion, his hands finding their place at your waist, effortlessly lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his torso. Even through the voluminous layers of your skirts, you could feel the undeniable presence of Eris’s hardened desire straining against the confines of his trousers. With a swift motion, you managed to kick off your shoes, sending them clattering across the polished floor as Eris pressed fervent, breathy kisses onto your lips. His hands supported you beneath your rear, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a passionate urgency.

Your fingers returned to entwine themselves in the silky strands of Eris’s hair, each tug eliciting a moan from him as he guided you towards the bed. The mattress welcome your entwined bodies, your legs still secured behind his hips as he positioned himself above you. His fingers worked deftly to loosen your corsets more intricate lacing. You, on the other hand were more successful endeavor to rid him of his trousers, revealing his toned, muscular thighs. Eager to free him from the last barrier, you tugged, begging at him to step back and let himself free.

He obliged, standing back from between your legs, taking his boots and pants off in one swift motion. His erection sprang free, hard, and throbbing in anticipation. It glistened at the tip with a bead of translucent fluid that seemed to invite you to taste it. He was every bit as breathtakingly aroused as you were and the sight of him only intensified your own desire.

As Eris neared the side of the bed again, lustful hunger filled his eyes. Pressing a hand into his stomach, you stopped him momentarily before rising up on your knees and lowering your lips towards his cock. His head fell back as you wrapped around him, gripping firmly while your lips pressed against the tip of his erection. You gave a few soft draws before opening your lips slowly and enveloping just the head of him. Eris let out a few soft moans, wrapping your hair around his fist as if to steady himself while his other hand cupped the underside of your chin, fingers digging into your soft skin as you slowly took more and more of him.

You didn’t often pleasure him in this way. Eris, however, took great pleasure in spending copious amount of time discovering the sweet secrets between your thighs. But today, seeing him so hungry for your touch—it ignited a fire in your that you couldn’t quite control.

As you welcomed him back wholly, you playfully nipped at the tender skin with your teeth, drawing back leisurely while Eris’s grip intensified while another moan slipped from his lips. His gaze found yours as you peered up at him through a sultry veil of lashes, causing his mouth to slacken open, a throaty sigh stammering out. As you carefully tightened your lips around the apex of his arousal, you sucked fervently before letting it escape your mouth with an audible pop.

Eris stuttered out a half formed, “fuc—” his breath hitching in surprise and pleasure.

You licked your lips while casting a glance up at him. Your hands were lost in their own exploration from his chiseled torso down his thighs, sharp nails carving a trail of scarlet lines on his skin as if branding him for your exclusive possession.

“You’re…divine, my love,” Eris groaned when your mouth once again claimed him.

The hum of affirmation that vibrated from deep within your throat sent waves of sensation rippling through him. The intimate sound echoed against his hardness, somehow making him harder as the pace of your movements quickened and the grip of your lips tightened around him.

As you teased him, driving him incrementally closer to release, Eris’ firm grip in your hair seemed more like a barrier. He held you back, preventing you from losing yourself completely in the rhythm. He restrained so that you could only take about half of him in your mouth at a time. You raised your eyes to meet his, his face twisted in delicious torment as you eased off, letting your tongue swirl about his swollen tip. His response was immediate, ragged moans escaping from between clenched teeth.

“What’s the matter, my love?” Your voice was thick with lust, mere inches from his cock as your saliva slicked down your chin. “You don’t want me to suck you off?”

Eris looked down at you from his towering height, chest heaving with anticipation. “Trust me on this, my love,” he rasped out, “my dick hitting the back of your throat nearly sends me to the edge every time. But I’d much rather save it all for more…fruitful purposes.” His words were heavy with lust, his gaze turning feral.

Smiling seductively, you let your lips slide sensuously over his hard cock once again before pulling back slowly. The taste of him lingered on your lips as he withdrew. “And where might that be?” You asked coyly.

Wordlessly, Eris collapsed to his knees before you and claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tasting himself on your tongue while attempting to unfasten the stays of your corset once more.

He paused for a moment, seemingly needing to concentrate on the task of his fingers before he finally answered. “Well, considering we’re trying for a babe, it feels sinful to not try and seize every chance I can to fill you up.” His gaze flickered up to meet yours, as if silently asking for your approval.

Gifting him with a sultry grin as the corset finally relented, Eris pushed it back off your shoulders and swiftly reached beneath the layers of your skirts. His fingers found your undergarments, tugging the fabric down your legs almost manically. Once they were discarded, he wasted no time in stripping off your gown until you were stripped as bare to him as he was to you. You reclined onto the bed, your knees raised to hide the dripping lust of your core from him, and propped up on your elbows, inviting his gaze.

He drank in the sight of you, naked and nearly begging for him, his own arousal throbbing expectantly in his hand. He gave himself a few rough strokes as his gaze roamed over every inch of you—memorizing each curve, each hollow, imprinting every detail into his mind.

You allowed your knees to gently part, revealing your wet, glistening valley to his ravenous gaze. The sight seemed to push him to the brink of his sanity as he sank back down, his palms tracing a fiery path down your trembling thighs. He gave his lips a quick swipe with his tongue, priming himself for the feast laid before him. As he pressed his mouth down onto your core, he drew out his tongue, dragging it up the full length, groaning at the intoxicating taste. Your head burrowed into the mattress, your spine curving seductively as Eris’s hands made their way to your lower back. His fingers hooked under the crest of you, thumbs kneading into your thighs, rhythmically clenching and releasing as he mapped your body.

His tongue flickered over the sensitive but at your apex, teasingly building you up before dragging it languidly in slow, agonizing laps. Over a decade’s worth of attentive learning—under your patient instruction—had made him an expert navigator of your body. He dipped lower, his tongue teasing at your entrance before spreading you open further with his fingers. His tongue drove deeper within you while his thumb caressed your clit, causing eruptions of pleasure that obscured your vision. Your urgent needs colliding and locking him into place with your tights as staccato breaths escaped from between your clenched teeth. The tightening grip of your legs around him only amplified his ravenous desire. Pushing them away gently to take longer laps with his practiced tongue, he withdrew his finger from its tantalizing dance at the top of your cunt to slowly penetrate you. Two fingers stretched and filled you, breaking what felt like new ground each time. Eris loved nothing more than watching your face in these moments—witnessing the furrowing brow and slack jawed ecstasy as he coaxed you open. “That’s it, my love,” he purred. “Let me open up that tight, sweet pussy.”

His fingers moved faster, eliciting a symphony of moans from deep in your throat as you hovered on the precipice of pleasure. Eris was acutely aware of your body's responses, his thumb strumming your clit in an intimate dance that mirrored the rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Your hands clenched white-knuckled into the sheets above your head, stark contrast to Eris' hands, which never wavered from exploring your body.

His gaze traced a path from the tips of your fingers down to your toes, which were clawing at the sheets with equal intensity. "Eris, please—" you gasped out in a raw whisper, the words half plea, half demand as you felt him deliberately holding back the climax you craved.

A knowing grin pulled at his lips even though you couldn't see it. “Hold on, my love,” he whispered back, his voice a silky promise in your ear. “Just a bit longer.”

Frustration and need had you biting your lip as you rolled your hips against his hand, trying to coax him into moving faster. But Eris had other plans; he withdrew his fingers completely leaving you achingly empty.

A mournful whimper slipped past your lips as the bed creaked beneath his weight as he stood up. His strong hands gripped your hips and yanked you down closer to the edge, causing an unexpected squeal to rip from your lips which made Eris chuckle deeply as he positioned you just right on the threshold. Curiously, you opened your eyes to find him stroking himself while eyeing the spot he so desperately wanted to be.

Eris had once confessed he could spend hours staring at your pussy with a fascination that bordered on obsession. His fingertips would skim lightly over every intimate crease and fold, committing every inch to memory. Hell, just watching him studying you like that could send waves of pleasure through his body strong enough to push him over the edge.

Now, as he stood at the foot of the bed, ready to claim you once more, you couldn’t help but remember his words. And you knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t be a lie to say he hadn’t brought himself to completion just by laying you bare on the bed and gazing longingly down at your spread legs.

You whined again, your body heavy with uncontrollable desire. Eris, tuning into your small groans of longing, cast his glance toward you while still working himself over, his lust-filled gaze meeting yours. “Is this what you want, my love?” he husked out.

Your eyelids felt dense, brimming with an animalistic yearning as you gasped out, “Yes—please gods yes.”

Eris threw you a wicked grin before aligning himself at your throbbing core, easing in at a torturous pace that almost tore a wild scream from your throat. His breath hitched as he delved deeper into you, like he was teetering on the edge of release right there and then. But finally, he was fully sheathed within you, casting a look of pure satisfaction down at you. He stayed rooted deep within as he rocked in and out at a slow rhythm making you writhe beneath him, pleading for him to quicken his pace. “Patience, my love,” he murmured heatedly, pressing his robust hand onto your stomach, anchoring you back onto the bed. “I want to savor this moment, and if I pound into you right now it’ll end way too fucking quick for either of us.”

Your whimper of disappointment morphed into a moan as Eris thrust all the way up to the hilt once more. Every single inch of him was pure ecstasy that filled you more than anything you possible. The first time he'd taken you to heights of pleasure unknown, there was fear realize he might split you in two but with slow seduction and a few heated moments spent priming you with his skilled fingers and sinfully wicked tongue, you knew he was meant for you. He was the only one who fit within like no other could — two pieces of an intricate erotic puzzle.

Eris leaned in, his muscular body arching over yours, his arms bracketing your face as he pressed his heated forehead against yours. He moved deliberately within you, his thrusts slow and purposeful, with each withdrawal almost total before he sank back into you, causing delicious toe curling friction.

Your hands found their way to the back of his head—your fingers threading through his wild hair and pulling him even closer. The growl that vibrated from his chest was raw and animalistic as he kissed you, turning everything slow, making it somehow more erotic than lustful.

You wrapped your legs around his chiseled hips, matching his rhythm. The moment your ankles locked securely behind him, Eris slipped his arms beneath your back and shoulders, pulling you up while he remained buried inside you. A surprised squeak escaped from you, followed by giggles as he rose to his full height—his strong, calloused hands holding you fast against him while he captured your lips in a deep kiss that tasted like sin.

He turned, the muscled strength of his back sinking into the soft surrender of the bed. Your thighs remained possessively wound around him as he shuffled upwards, resting his back against the headboard. You pushed your knees outward to straddle him like a carnal queen claiming her throne, his large hands finding home on the curve of your hips. His fingers burrowed into the soft flesh as he silently urged you to gyrate atop him. His golden eyes locked into yours, his voice dropping into a sultry rumble as he ordered, “Ride me.” A command that you were more than delighted to fulfill.

Sitting back on your heels, your hands wandered upwards to find solace in the tangles of your own hair. You shifted back up and down upon hum. Eris’s hands held court on your swaying hips, not gripping you tightly but savoring the pleasure that each motion evoked as your body slipped tantalizingly through his strong fingers.

Eris seemed to surrender to the pleasure, allowing his head to tilt back in ecstasy. His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he gulps of air escaped past his lips. Your hands ventured southwards, exploring the terrain of his chest and abdomen with slow, deliberate strokes. All the while, you watched him—as pleasure etched itself across his face. His mouth fell open slightly open, sporadic gasps and guttural moans filling the silence as you controlled the rhythm.

His hips picked up a primal rhythm beneath him, as if he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing. The tempo increased steadily as his fingers, imbued with desire, dug deeper into the skin of your hips. His body crashed into yours with a mix of hunger and desperation. His eyes were clenched shut, locking away the paradise he found within. He bit his lower lip hard enough to bring what you thought would be a sting of pain, but it was drowned out by the guttural sounds of pleasure that erupted from deep in his chest.

You leaned forward in response to his urgency, grazing your teeth gentle across the landscape of his neck—a different touch that the harshness of the grip he held you with. In a heartbeat he had taken back control, a male seemingly claiming his territory, pinning you in place as he made love to you.

The delicious friction between your body and Eris’s torso was bringing you dangerously close to the precipice. You could feel the distinct tightening of your muscles, a teasing thrill that started from the nape of your neck, creeping slowly forward, followed by a curious numbing in your toes. Your head sank forward, nestling into Eris’s broad shoulder as your nails clawed hungrily into the flesh of his opposite shoulder. “You’re such a good girl,” he growled in your ear, indulging every contraction in your body. His voice echoed twice as a whispered mantra, “Good girl.” His breath fanned over your ear as he coaxed you further. “Let it go, let my drown in it, my love,” pressing a fervent kiss into your tousled hair.

His words were the potent magic it took to send you spiraling over the treacherous abyss of pleasure, chasing that electrifying wave that coursed through your veins, leaving an unrestrained moan escaping past your parted lips. “I love you,” Eris whispered into your ear, his unrelenting pace continuing as he guided you through the tremors of release until you finally descended into a panting mess.

With desire still twinkling in your eyes, you nibbled at his shoulder, lavishly bestowing him with a sequence of licks and kisses, tasting his salt ridden skin and breathing in the scent of your mate. Eris absorbed every aftershock rippling through you while he kept his pace going, seemingly driven forth by the urgency he managed to elicit.

Another gravelly growl erupted from him before he spun you onto your back once more—this time fueled by something more primal instead of the gentle intimacy before. Lost in the delirium of pleasure, Eris plowed into you with a wildness that would drive you crazy. His body melded with yours—his hips driving recklessly as he cupped your head in his arms protectively. Your teeth grazed along the sinewy column of his neck as he released a low purr.

This time, Eris was teetering on the edge of his own climax as his hips faltered for a moment, catching their rhythm again with an insatiable speed. A sinful symphony of your bodies colliding with one another filled the room. Your legs once against entwined around his torso like a vine, clinging to him like a lifeline.

You leaned closer, whispering your own sweet demands into the curve of his ear, tickling it with your tongue and teasing bite. “Give me a babe, Eris.” The words were like liquid fire to him. His hand traced down your face, as if searching for the tender female beneath the wild one in his arms. His fingers cradled your cheek, the softness of his touch only amplifying the raw passion happening just inches away. “Let me carry our legacy. The heir to the court. The next generation of our love’s lineage.” As if possessed by another rush, his hands relocated from cupping your face to gripping the sheets with white-knuckled intensity as he panted out his lustful need.

“Please, Eris—” you pleaded through gasps and moans. Begging was music to his ears; he found it so damn sexy when you were on your knees pleading for him. “Give me what I want the most.”

Eris lifted his head, seeking out your eyes, to make connection before the inevitable release. When he locked onto your gaze, a shiver ran through him, causing his hips to shudder slightly as his eyes rolled back basking in the uninhibited pleasure. You felt him spill inside you—as if molten heat fused with the lingering aftershocks of your own climax.

When he had finally felt that delightful release, the waves of tingly, bone-jittering happiness faded and he rested his body on top of you. His lungs still catching their breath as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck. He gently brushed his thumb across your cheek, turning your face towards him for a sweet, lingering kiss before slowly pulling out and away, leaving an emptiness in his wake. But when he did, his eyes sparkled with such a genuinely, overwhelming affection, it caught you entirely off guard.

He grinned like he was tipsy. “I love you,” he whispered once more.

You giggled in return, your hand tracing the contours of his angular face and jaw, “I love you, Eris.”

He rolled to one side, his hand lazily wandering down your torso, drawing small, whimsical on your abdomen, where you had prayed to someday grow a tiny life inside.

“I have a good feeling about that one,” he chimed in.

You quirked a brow. “You think this is suddenly the magic one?”

He gave a light shrug, “It definitely felt like it could have been.”

“You always say that,” you teased, snuggling yourself in closer as his fingers danced up your arm, pressing another kiss to the crown of your head.

You laid in silence together for a few minutes, listening to Eris’ heartbeat slow down to the steady thumping you so often fell asleep to, his hands still exploring your body. He always had his hands on you somewhere if he could, like he needed something other than the mental tether that bound him to you, but you didn’t mind it.

You had many dreams about carrying Eris’s child. As his mate, it was one of your expected duties, to produce an heir to carry on the Vanserra lineage, to secure the next High Lordship, or Ladyship, times were changing and you would often tease Eris’ brothers with the idea of his daughter ascending into the position, sending them scoffing and rolling their eyes. But after ten years of unsuccessful attempts, fertility potions, aphrodisiacs, fool-proof positions, and you had no physical, tangible result.

You could picture it when you closed your eyes like looking into a mirror. Eris, standing in the windows of your chambers, surrounded by soft light as he looks down at a small bundle that coos in his arms. He sways lightly back and forth, the gentle breeze from outside pushing his hair from his face as he looks down at his babe with more adoration that any male could have for their child. He looks so at peace. He looks so beautiful. The babe in his arms could never be more deeply loved than by this male, your mate, and you’d given him that happiness.

You were yanked from your daydreaming by a light rapping at the door of the bedchambers—and the unmistakable sound of a male voice on the other side. A hesitant greeting from one of Eris’ advisors. “My lord—” then a pause as though listening for a response. “My lord, we’re scheduled to meet with the chamber of commerce in the next ten minutes.

Eris ran a hand over his face and let out a low growl that might have been an attempt at dramatics or actual irritation, while you burst into a stifled laugh tucked into the corner of his arm. “Be there. Just give me a minute.

The advisor hesitated, then said through the door, “My lord, I must insist we meet with you before the meeting—”

Eris cut him off, raising his voice. “You’re more than welcome to barge in. I will warn you however— that you will get a very full tour of both my body but also my mates. So unless you fancy joining us in the potential conception of my heir, I’d suggest practicing a bit of patience.”

The advisor didn’t reply and you could hear him taking small steps down the hall.

Your laughter burst out as Eris joined in with his deep, hearty chuckle. “You don’t need to torture the poor fellow any more than necessary,” you remarked, leaning up on your forearms.

Eris met your eyes, “If they’re going to work in my home and demand that they be the top of my priority list everyday then I’m going to have to start being more honest with them about what is truly happening behind closed doors.”

Eris gave you a small kiss on the tip of your nose before retreating from the bed. He found his discarded trousers while you rolled back, hugging your knees in what felt like a futile attempt to keep everything inside—a tip from the fertility healer. You rocked slightly on your spine as Eris appeared at the foot of the bed, trousers donned again but his shirt in his fist, leaning over the armoire mirror to fix his hair. He shot you a quick glance before pulling his shirt and vest back on before sauntering over to re-lace his boots.

“Plus,” he went on, “I’d argue this is one of, if not the most important parts of court business right now." Fastening his other boot, he added, “And you, for that matter. So if anyone has problems with how I’m spending my time, I’ll find them in contempt of court.”

You laughed and smacked his arm, earning a smirk in return. He rested a hand on your knee, gesturing to the position you had placed yourself in.

“How long do you have to lay like that?”

With a light shrug, you replied, “I’m not even sure it works, but the healers say I should keep everything inside for ten to fifteen minutes after we’re finished. Apparently, it increases the odds of implantation.”

Eris rubbed your knee slowly, smiling at you. “Do you want me to wait with you? Do you need anything? Water? Food?”

You shook your head, thinking him kind for the gesture. “It’s alright my love, I’ll just stay here a bit longer and then will get up and carry on with the day.”

He looked at you, his eyes full of longing and intense adoration. “I love you, so intensely, it makes my heart ache,” he whispered to you.

“And I you,” you replied as he leaned down to give you another kiss, long and savory.

He stood, walking towards the door and as he reached the doorway he turned and looked back at you, the same sappy, hopelessly romantic expression on his face. “You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked again.

You said with a big of feigned exasperation, “I’m fine, Eris, now go! Or someone is going to get brave enough to come in here.”

His hand rested on the doorframe as he smiled back at you. “I’ll see you at dinner, my love.” He noted and you nodded in agreement before he opened the doors and disappeared down the hall.

What he didn’t know was that part of the fifteen minutes of waiting also included sending out prayers to The Mother to finally let it all fall into place. You had a sinking suspicion that while Eris might be more than happy to take as many years as it needed to have a babe, the rest of the court might not be so patient, and it was your job to ensure it happened.

I need to be spayed. Someone make me an appointment at the vet. It's becoming a problem.

Part 2:

[wonysugar]

going down on a dork || aeri uchinaga

synopsis : giselle, a camgirl, decides to make a dork a special guest on her page.

pairing : camgirl!giselle x bicurious!femreader

genre : smut

tags : cunnilingus, lots of it i think, mentions of fingering, mentions of hetero sex? sorry LMFAO, fem reader is implied to be bicurious, kissing, making out, giselle records this shit on her old gen macbook, we love an aesthetic queen, anyways yeah lesbian sex that’s about it really

word count : 1.9k

a/n : 4am… I TOLD YALL I COULD DO IT!😭😭but yeah uhm here you gooo i kinda don’t really care about it..? like yeah i wrote this butjfrjjf that’s about it… not one of my bests! like honestly this was not worth the wait i made y’all go throughfjdmdn I’M SORRY🙏but yeah erm i’ll proofread tomorrow cause rn i’m fighting demons to not close my eyesss gootnight love y’all or whateva

btw sorry for the thing at the end LMFAOAO i got the idea and just had to, i sincerely apologize

“alright.”

the familiar girl, known online as giselle, backed away from the macbook, grin on her face, and sat back down on the bed with another person, eyeing them excitedly.

“alright.” repeated the other girl, fidgeting with her hands nervously as she sat up, before adding on, “c-can they see me?” earning laughter from the content creator before her.

“oh they’ll definitely see you, just not your face, obviously.” 

the stranger, labeled as the dork in the title of the video, seemed to be somewhat relieved by those words and allowed herself to relax more, leaning back onto the comfy bed and putting all of her weight onto the back of her arms. by getting comfortable, her neck now came into frame, her hair length became visible. 

“so,” giselle spoke softly, her eyes switching back and forth between fixing on the girl’s eyes and lips, that is, with a playful grin. “you excited?” 

that earned a nervous giggle from said girl, “honestly? not even sure what i agreed to do.” 

truth is, this was a recurring thing for the camgirl, and it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t known on campus for that exact reason, especially by a particular subgroup of girls; she, a lesbian, spends her freetime interesting other women, whether they’re bicurious or simply just bored, into having (mostly oral) sex with her, whilst also being consensually recorded in the act so she can diffuse it online, later on. that was her whole internet thing, among the more solo-esque type of content she put out every now and then.

she gave a respective codename to each girl, as to make sure they stay completely anonymous whilst also giving them a tiny description, something for the viewers to go off of. multiple examples of those immediately come to mind; cheerleader, mom, hell, one of them is even straight up called woman in stem.

now, she had great amounts of fun with all of them, obviously, and all of those one-time occurrences contributed in making her a couple of bucks due to the number of views, nothing to complain about. but in all honesty, they were all just girls at the end of the day. this girl? she couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was, but there was something about her, something that exhilarated giselle.

she knew she was gonna have a lot more fun with this dork, and it definitely showed through her giddy-like expression when she spoke to her, she was by far the most entertaining one she’s ever had to partake with, and she hadn’t even done anything to her yet.

yet.

despite the under-average quality of the macbook giselle always filmed her videos with, anybody could guess that due to the setting, the initial rendezvous was a cozy study session, with nothing but the slight yet bright daytime sunshine breaking into the room through the mostly curtain-covered windows.

the title foreshadowed it all, however, and all it took were those uncertain words to make giselle want to turn that short conversation, this whole hangout, into something else, something more. she crawled closer and pressed her lips against the dork’s. the kiss was slow and gentle, as well as being the only thing audible in the silent room at that moment. 

she pulled away from the first contact, then softly spoke out a “you’ll figure it out eventually.” loud enough that the shitty microphone picked it up, before leaning back in again, this time in a comfier position as to properly straddle the nervous girl that was under her.

to the latter’s own surprise, she returned the kiss that was placed on her lips; it was clear she would’ve wanted to do more than just sit there and take it, easier said than done. she wished to actually allow her own hands to explore giselle on a deeper, more personal level, essentially getting accustomed to the feeling of having her body in this close of a proximity to hers, but alas, that wasn’t going to happen for a while, especially since that would officially mark the day that she’s ever touched another girl in such a suggestive manner. the laptop camera recording their every move just further added onto the feeling.

giselle knew that, though, the nervousness that radiated from the girl she intertwined her lips with was so thick in the air that she could practically touch it if she tried. “come on, pretty girl, relax.” she whispered to the girl in between kisses. it obviously didn’t take long after that for the kiss to get hungrier and more heated, which eventually resulted in having her slowly slide down to the dork’s neck, now dragging her lips across and planting messy kisses there, as well as leaving gentle suckles and nibbles. “it’s just you and me.” she added, her hot breath on the girl’s skin.

if giselle were asked to describe that day in full detail, she’d spend at least ten whole minutes gushing and rambling about how fucking good that girl smelled.

the latter seemingly let go and eventually left all of the work to the more experienced woman, taking in all of what was being put on her, slowly learning to ride on the waves of intimacy. soon enough, a content giselle slowly ran her hand up the girl’s graphic tee and reached for the back of her bra, attempting to unhook it with one hand.

which, she successfully did, by the way; muscle memory always came in handy in instances like these.

much to the other girl’s disappointment, giselle pulled away from her attention-deprived neck, breathing heavily as she looked down at the already somewhat visible markings, admiring her work. “do you have a boyfriend?” 

confusion now occupied the majority of the dork’s fuzzy mind, “n-no..” she replied, still shaken up by the mere, previous things the pink haired woman had done to her already, “i wouldn’t be doing this if i did.”

giselle smiled, amused by that answer, eyes hooded with nothing but intent and lust as she stared, “then, are you talking to anybody?”

“well…” responded the other reluctantly, now thinking more carefully as to figure out what exactly to call the strange relationship she held with the boy whose face popped up in her mind. “i-i guess you could say that.” 

giselle traced circles around the nervous girl’s stomach, hand slipped under that tee, with her black and white acrylic nails, feline-like gaze still fixed on her lips. “when was the last time you saw him?”

“..yesterday.”

“yeah?” she asked for confirmation, slightly tilting her head in query before subtly leaning closer, “tell me about it.”

“well,” started the girl, looking away as her hands found and held onto anything, her fingers fidgeting some more and playing with the bedsheets she was laying on, twisting, pulling, keeping her muscles busy. she felt like she had to use her entire brain power to recall the elements of the past evening and properly form them into words. she had barely succeeded,  “h-he asked if he could come over, i said yes, obviously, and we… uhm—”

thrown off by the sudden movement of hands slowly pulling down her sweatpants, she went silent and turned back to the girl in front of her as she tried to compose her untamed thoughts. 

“you..?” 

“right.” visibly distracted by the risky contact, the girl further struggled to speak, “w-we.. uh, we had sex.”

giselle smiled knowingly, “well no shit, genius.” 

giggling as she now had completely taken off the sweatpants of the person laying before her, she continued, “i meant in detail; i wanna know everything.”

“oh.” sighed out the girl, both in relief of finally feeling giselle’s hands on her deprived skin again and in thought.

the pink haired chuckled, clearly excited.

this was exciting, both for the viewers and the two parties involved.

the video cut to a more intense scene, the somewhat awkward tension having evaporated into the air and leaving more space for hunger, and desire.

“m-mmh—“ 

with a long, slow and almost painful swipe of the tongue, giselle managed to completely obliterate the girl’s train of thought yet again, leaving her a whimpering mess. the taste of her slick coating the entire surface of her tongue.

“just from one lick? fuck..” she lowly whispered into her cunt, practically to herself, slowly panting into it like a hyperactive dog would. she carefully spread the slightly swollen, moist with slick lips as she stared. it was so pretty, all exposed, wet and vulnerable for her.

she made her feel this way.

and because of it, she couldn’t help but want to give it another taste.

“come on, keep telling.” she reminded the girl with a smirk, who happened to have covered her mouth with the back of her hand, “i’m dying to know more, you know?”

that’s when she fully leaned into said girl’s core, tongue first; leaving gentle kisses and suckles all around the very clearly aroused bundle of nerves before going to town. it was hard to see the details, but it definitely wasn’t hard to hear them and what was going. 

every wet sound, every kiss, every lick, every suckle, every noise that forced itself out of giselle’s throat; all of it was audible.

“h-he ate me out...” softly moaned the girl, now practically biting on her hand to muffle as much noise as she could. this was a college dorm, after all. “he had his lips around my clit a-and his fingers curling inside of me and— fuck.”

giselle was visibly smiling against the girl’s core before pulling away for a quick moment, “if it weren’t for my nails, i would’ve fingered you as soon as you laid on this bed, baby girl.”

giselle would never do that for any of the other girls, her videos consisted of cunnilingus and cunnilingus only.

perhaps the dork was one of a kind?

“i know..” she responded hazily, her voice hoarse and shaky, “you w-would’ve done it better than him.”

“that’s right.” that earned a smile from the pink haired, a prideful and cocky one, “you know me so well, don’t you?”

“mhm.” she said, letting out a whine as she nodded in response to feeling the camgirl’s mouth on her. her body slightly jolted with each contact, the way giselle’s tongue maneuvered around her fragile flower, experience and familiarity showing through her movements and eye contact, even through the way she held onto the dork’s thighs. 

the girl kept telling, essentially recalling every little detail about how the boy fucked her. that, despite being fucked out of her right mind and forgetting how to form words properly.

all of those events were enough to drive the girl closer to the edge after a while.

“ae—“ she stopped mid-sentence and quickly corrected herself, “—giselle i’m about to c-cum..”

the camgirl kept doing what she did best, if not more intensely than previously. she needed to see that pretty girl cum her brains out all over her mouth. she was gonna make it happen numerous times if she was presented the opportunity.

giselle needed to see how even prettier the girl looked when she came.

the orgasm itself hit her like a truck, a loud one at that. she had unconsciously grabbed a fistful of giselle’s hair and pushed her head closer to her pussy, grinding on her and riding out her excess of dopamine. 

the girl eventually let go, and the video ended after the camgirl pulled away and sat back up, staring at the girl. both of them looking at each other and giggling together, giselle’s dimples more prominent than ever. 

maybe they giggled from nervousness? maybe it was from excitement? 

one thing was for sure, though, giselle was quick to book an appointment with her nail tech as soon as she could.

[finalgirlmorgue]

ᰔ・︴ Jason is cold ｡°✧

𝜗𝜚 Genre: Smut 𝜗𝜚 Warnings: nsfw, mentions of female anatomy 𝜗𝜚 Jason Todd x Iceberg lounge waitress 𝜗𝜚 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REQUESTS 𝜗𝜚 Pussy eater Jason Brainrot -----------------------------------------------------------------------

𝜗𝜚 You're responsible for your own media consumption :)

Winter is cold, but Jason is colder. You thought you two had made notable progress. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. You had helped him before in a heated interrogation about some high profile criminal. In which he stood over you. Donning the sleek armor, helmet, and hood. Sharp jagged edges of his words, accusatory and calculated. He never touched you in those 6 minutes. Never raised a hand at you. A few words was enough to make you spill. To make you spill information you were not aware was stored in your brain. From then on you were his preferred server. His little spy who delivered everything he wanted to know. You sought his praise, you learned what he needed.

The clientele phased in and out. You brought out plates of caviar and daiquiris with olives and offered kind smiles and an ear to listen to the Gotham elite's rants about criminal life. Their troubles were yours too when they tipped you rent money for the week. You listened with an eye to their wallets.

That was a waitress's manifesto. Hospitality is an art form.

And so, when you saw the Red Hood that bleak night, all you could do was nod politely at him as he slid into a booth. He was a large man, he dwarfed the plush corner table that was supposed to provide privacy. You swerved in between servers. Dodging plates with drinks balancing delicately on them. You approached his table, sliding him a menu from under your arm.

"Hi there," You nodded curtly at him as you set the menu on the table. "Can I get any drinks started for you?" Your eyes glanced back to his face. He was watching you intently, like a shark scenting blood.

"I'll just have an old fashioned. Thanks."

You mentally jotted it down. It was common practice to memorize orders. professionalism was a highly respectable talent, especially in such a large venue. You moved off toward another group. A few tables away you noticed that he had not taken off his helmet or mask. But, his eyes kept following your every move until you disappeared into the crowd.

The slits of his eyes disturbed you the most. The mask dehumanized him. It was like talking to an unfeeling machine. The way he observed, how he held himself. A machine. There was no warmth in his eyes. You watched his fingers twitch, and the knuckles go white as his hands flexed around the curve of the table. He was capable of breaking someone like a Barbie doll.

When you returned with his beverage you set it down on a coaster, a bit of liquid splashing over the edge of the glass.

"Gonna take a few cents off for that?" He asked. Maybe it was a cruel attempt at humor. You didn't smile, still debating on his sincerity. Your eyes widened slightly and he chuckled beneath the breath. Like he knew what you were doing, panicking internally. You tried again, offering him a pleasant expression, "Apologies, Sir." You said. You waited for him to say something further, anything that indicated he would talk to you, but his eyes stayed on your own. He watched you silently until the silence got to be too much.

"They've got you trained like a dog."

"Sorry?…" You were staggered at the comparison but you tried to play along. "Like a dog," he repeated, "trained to obey orders. You're a yes woman for Gotham's Illuminati." He mocked. His fingers fidgeted, the gloves on his right hand slipping slightly.

"Well, I enjoy my work.." And now you had his full attention, looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate. "I've met a lot of interesting people."

"Honesty, If you would." He cut you off abruptly. He seemed amused by your answer. You took a deep breath and spoke.

"While it is… stressing," You admitted. You wanted to tell him that you had been through more stress than the average college student, and you had also faced far more threats than Gotham's most notorious mobsters, "it's nice knowing the ins and outs of it all." His lips quirked up slightly at this admission. But his attention turned to the rest of the restaurant. The diners seemed oblivious to your conversation, the noise drowned out by the music. No one seemed interested in what you had to say, save for the occasional patron who had heard the comment.

The Red Hood tilted his head towards the bar where a bartender was mixing cocktails. They looked delicious and colorful even as the light reflected off the glass surface. "Let me see if I can make you feel better." He rose gracefully from his seat and made his way towards the bar, taking care not to step on anyone as he passed. You followed him.

"Oh I can't drink on the job-" You began.

"Then don't. This will only last 5 minutes." He interrupted, waving off your protest. You followed to the bathrooms behind him, Hood entering first. After a few seconds, he came back and gestured you inside. Inside was a small area, dimly lit but clean and modern. With sinks that looked more like counters. On the opposite wall there were mirrors. Hood motioned at the counter. Not getting the message he grabbed you by your waist, pulling you forward and hoisting you onto the cold marble. You squeaked, your thighs sliding against the smooth surface as you landed on your ass. When you caught your balance, Hood was already moving across your thighs, his hands reaching into your pants. Your mouth went dry as you stared. He yanked at your zipper, your body jerking in surprise. You gasped, as you watched the black fabric slide downwards. Hood pulled off the slacks and threw them into one of the sinks.

He pushed his thumb into your underwear, pulling roughly at the cloth. "wait--" you managed to mutter between gasps. "H-Hold on. The.. um- door." You stalled.

"Locked tight. I checked." He assured you. A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. He dropped down to one knee, spreading your thighs farther apart as he pulled the masked down, shielding his lower half from view as his mouth was buried in your cunt. His tongue flicked out, tasting your wetness as he worked you open, gliding deeper each time. You whimpered as he nipped at your clit gently, tugging the sensitive flesh in the process.

"Oh god… this is so- a lot.. so much-"

You squirmed in embarrassment. He smirked at you as you struggled to find some sort of control. He continued to flick his tongue against your clit, making you pulse against the leather of his glove. A warm wet spot formed in his palm. Hood paused, licking his lips as he eyed your pussy hungrily. "I thought I was overworked.." He murmured. His thumb traced a line down your inner thigh until he reached the apex of your thighs. You arched up towards his mouth. You were panting now, "You seem tired."

"Mmm.." you mumbled and you could hear the grin in his voice

"Can't fuck you to sleep, not unless you clock out early." He teased, using his other hand to hold your hips tightly. "Call this a private service."

You nodded. As his tongue lapped at your pussy again you felt a rush of desire shoot up your spine, a shudder coursing through you. He pressed his face against the moist heat, letting out a groan. He slipped two gloved fingers inside you slowly as you moaned. You arched your pelvis into his touch. One of his hands slipped free from your thighs, resting over your knee, pushing them apart. You felt hot and feverish, sweat dotting your forehead, making your hair damp and sticking to your skin.

"should be paying me." He mumbled against your pussy, vibrations thrumming from his lips. He thrust one finger deeply into you. It sank all the way to the hilt before he withdrew it. You cried his name. That was all it took for you to lose the control you had over yourself. All of a sudden you couldn't think straight. All of a sudden you felt your muscles spasm as orgasm slammed through you in waves. You gasped loudly as you rode out your climax, your whole body shaking. Your legs fell open, allowing his nose to poke at your clitt. It felt slick with spit and your juices. He rubbed it against your folds, leaving a trail that tickled your sensitive tissue. You moaned quietly as he lapped up the salty moisture dripping down your folds and thighs. He licked at his finger before wiping it across his lips.

"There we are~." He purred. You shivered as his fingers stroked over your sex.

Reblong + Like if you got this far or Jason dies again

[sxcretricciardo]

you broke me first - L.N - pt. 2

part 1

•

It had been a month since the night of the concert—the night Lando showed up unannounced and left you reeling with his apology. You hadn’t spoken to him since, not because you didn’t want to, but because you were scared. Scared that letting him back in would undo all the progress you’d made.

But he hadn’t disappeared.

Lando found ways to show you he meant what he’d said. A bouquet of your favorite flowers arrived on your doorstep one morning, with a simple note attached:

“I’m sorry. I’m here when you’re ready. – Lando”

When you traveled to Paris for the next leg of your tour, a small care package arrived at your hotel: your favorite snacks, a candle that smelled like home, and a handwritten letter.

“I know I hurt you, and I’ll spend every day proving I’m not that man anymore. Take all the time you need.”

It was little things like this—unobtrusive, thoughtful gestures—that made you start to believe he might be serious.

One quiet evening after a show in Amsterdam, you found yourself staring at his name in your contacts. Your finger hovered over the call button for what felt like hours. Finally, with a deep breath, you pressed it.

He answered on the second ring.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

“Hi,” you said, your heart pounding so hard you thought he might hear it over the phone.

There was a pause on the other end—long enough to make you second-guess calling at all. Then, his voice came through, breathless and relieved.

“I didn’t think you’d call,” Lando said softly.

“I didn’t think I would either,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed. “But… you’ve been showing up in ways I didn’t expect. And it’s made me wonder.”

“Wonder?” he repeated cautiously.

You ran a hand through your hair, staring out the window at the glowing lights of Amsterdam. “If you really mean it. If this isn’t just… another mistake.”

“Y/N, I swear to you,” Lando said quickly, his tone desperate but steady. “This isn’t a game for me. Not anymore. I’m not that guy who stood in front of you and let you walk away. I know I screwed up, and I hate myself for it every single day.”

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest familiar but different this time—less sharp, more bittersweet. “It’s not easy for me to believe you, Lando. I need you to know that.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I don’t expect you to just forgive me overnight. I just… I just want the chance to show you. To earn back the trust I threw away.”

His sincerity cracked something in you, and for the first time in months, you let your guard drop, just a little.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Maybe we can talk. Start with that.”

The relief in his voice was palpable. “I’d love that. Anytime, anywhere—just say the word.”

“Not anytime,” you teased softly. “I still have a tour to finish, you know.”

Lando chuckled lightly, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you. “Right. You’re busy being the rockstar I fell in love with.”

Your breath hitched at his words, but you let it slide, pretending they didn’t affect you the way they did. “Goodnight, Lando.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

When you hung up, you felt lighter—hopeful, even. It was small, but it was a start.

The first time you saw him again was two weeks later, during a rare break in your tour. You had agreed to meet at a small café in London, far from the prying eyes of the public. It felt strange, seeing him sitting there, his hair slightly messy under a cap, a nervous smile on his face when he spotted you.

“Hey,” he said softly, standing up as you approached.

“Hi,” you replied, shifting awkwardly as you slid into the chair across from him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It was as if you were both figuring out how to exist in each other’s presence again.

“You look good,” Lando finally said, his voice gentle. “Really good.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Tour life has kept me busy. I think I’ve forgotten what sleep feels like.”

He chuckled, but then his expression grew more serious. “I listened to your album, you know.”

Your smile faltered. “Oh.”

“It broke me,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “Hearing those songs… knowing I caused that much pain. I sat there for hours just… listening. And crying.”

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “It wasn’t easy to write, either,” you admitted. “But I had to get it out somehow. Music was the only thing that kept me from falling apart.”

“I’m glad you had that,” he said. “But I wish I’d been the person you could lean on instead of the one who hurt you.”

You looked down at your coffee, stirring it absently. “Why did you do it, Lando? Why did you let me walk away that night?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because I was scared,” he said honestly. “I thought if I let myself feel how much I loved you, I’d ruin it. I didn’t think I was good enough for you, Y/N. And instead of facing that, I pushed you away.”

You stared at him, your heart aching at the rawness in his voice. “And now?”

“Now?” He looked you straight in the eye, determination etched across his face. “I know what I want. I want you. I want us. I don’t care how long it takes or how hard I have to work—I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not that guy anymore.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, and for the first time, you let yourself believe he might really mean it.

“Okay,” you said softly. “One step at a time, Lando. That’s all I can promise.”

He nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Over the next few months, Lando kept his word. He didn’t push you or demand more than you were ready to give. Instead, he showed up—consistently, quietly, and with unwavering patience.

He sent you texts after every show:

“You were incredible tonight. I’m so proud of you.”

Sometimes, he’d surprise you by showing up in the audience, sitting quietly at the back, cheering you on without fanfare.

When you had a break in your schedule, he invited you to his place for casual dinners—no pressure, no expectations. Just the two of you catching up like old times, laughing over silly stories and reconnecting in ways that felt real and easy.

One night, as you sat on his couch watching a movie, you caught him looking at you.

“What?” you asked, smiling softly.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I just… I missed this. I missed you.”

You didn’t respond right away, but instead rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around you.

“I missed this too,” you whispered.

It wasn’t until the final night of your tour—another sold-out show in London—that you realized how far you’d come. Lando was there, as he always was now, standing off to the side of the stage, his eyes never leaving you.

When you sang You Broke Me First, your voice steady and strong, you glanced at him briefly. This time, there were no tears—just a quiet understanding between you.

After the show, he found you backstage, grinning like a little kid.

“You were unbelievable,” he said, pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you,” you replied, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

When you pulled back, he looked at you with a seriousness that made your heart race. “Y/N… I know I don’t deserve it, but I love you. I love you so much it scares me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with emotion. “You’ve already started proving it, Lando. And I think… I think I’m ready to try again.”

His face lit up with a smile so genuine it nearly took your breath away. “You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you said softly, cupping his face in your hands. “But no more mistakes. No more running.”

“Never again,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you—soft, slow, and full of everything you’d both been holding onto for so long.

And in that moment, you knew: this was your new beginning.

[godzilla-barbie]

All in Due Time – Oneshot

Captain John Price x Reader

Summary: “Said you might be barking up the wrong tree, love,” he tells you kindly, but firmly, before adding; “Much too old to be running around with a young thing like you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you seem to be gauging his sincerity. And then you’re laughing again. “How young do you think I am?!” you ask, sounding a little bewildered, maybe even a little flattered, and that should have been his first tip off.

Notes: just john meeting his dream girl who is in fact the same age as him, he swears it. also john

Warnings: none, fluff mostly

Words: 8.2k

The first time he meets you, Price writes you off. Too young, too out of his league, too different from him. The second time you meet, at least one of those assumptions is proven wrong.

“What?!” you laugh at him, sounding genuinely confused. You’re at a mutual friend’s birthday party, their 40th. You’re a friend of the birthday boy’s wife, and John used to serve with the now retired Daniel, more than glad to see his mate making it to the big four-oh. Too many he’d served with didn’t.

John looks at you over the top of his glass, taking a sip before he rests it on the bar of the rented out pub, and turns slightly more to face you.

“Said you might be barking up the wrong tree, love,” he tells you kindly, but firmly, before adding; “Much too old to be running around with a young thing like you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you seem to be gauging his sincerity. And then you’re laughing again.

“How young do you think I am?!” you ask, sounding a little bewildered, maybe even a little flattered, and that should have been his first tip off. John looks you over, doing his best to keep his gaze neutral, but it’s a little hard when he’s looking at one of the prettiest birds he’s ever seen.

“Twenty-five… maybe twenty-eight,” he says matter of factly, waiting for you to give up the ghost and admit he’s guessed right, or at least close.

You only laugh again, throwing your head back and downing the last of the cocktail you’d ordered when you’d initially slunk up beside him.

“I’m thirty-seven,” you tell him, and it’s his turn to be surprised.

“Bullshit,” he says without really thinking, too taken aback to filter his disbelief. You eye him wryly and nod, before pulling out your driver’s liscence and handing it to him.

He eyes it carefully in the dim lighting of the bar as you order another cocktail.

“I believe an apology is in order, ma’am,” he says, genuinely caught off guard. You smile again, and this time it’s like he sees you in a brand new light. You aren’t some pretty young thing looking for… whatever pretty young things looked for when on occasion they approached him.

You shrug.

“Accepted, but you have to buy my drinks,” you tell him cheekily. Price is not normally a man who makes concessions or compromises, but this one he feels he can live with.

“Alright,” he says, handing you back your ID and signalling the bartender, who he promptly informs whose tab your drinks go on.

“I’m John,” he says to you then, holding out a hand, and you take it gently, a gleam in your eye.

“I know,” you tell him. “We have met before.”

John lowers his head some.

“And you remember,” he says it like it's a failure on his part, and to him, it is. Your smile widens just a little, but you lean in and nudge his arm.

“And you don’t?” your eyebrows bounce up again. Price has never spoken so quickly in his life.

“No, I do, I definitely do,” he says hurriedly, watching as your brows go even higher, and your grin turns a little wicked. His head lowers a little further.

“It’s okay, John, you thought I was a sugar baby,” you tease. Price doesn’t quite splutter, but he does open his mouth and close it again, cheeks growing warm.

“I did not,” he tells you, placing his drink back down and pointing at you. You chortle and take a sip of your brightly coloured cocktail. You tell him your name, and he repeats it back to you, tasting it in his mouth like a good whiskey.

“You served with Daniel, right?” you ask after a comfortable, but slightly charged beat of silence. Price nods, humming, but over the music, he’s not sure if you hear him.

“Danny’s smarter than me, though. Got out when he could,” he says with a chortle, picking up his glass again and taking a sip. You cock your head.

“Married to the job, then?” you ask, but despite your rather forward advances so far, you don’t sound searching, simply curious.

John frowns slightly.

“I– I try not to be,” he says, and it’s the truth. When his divorce had been finalised almost eight years ago now, he’d made a promise to himself, more than anyone else, to try and be more present in his life outside or work. He’d bought a house, a lovely little cottage style terrace a little ways outside of London, and he’d fixed it up nicely, given himself work and projects to do outside of the field. In fact, in the past few years he’d had to come to terms with the fact there was nothing more he could really do to his home short of knocking down the walls, and he’d considered buying another fixer upper, selling it on the cheap to a family or something when it was done. “But it comes with the territory,” he eventually goes on.

Your lip quirks just slightly, and you nod, looking away from him and out at the tables and throngs of guests.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s probably not even remotely the same, but my jobs fairly full on,” you say with the tone of someone who loved their job, but understood all too well the sacrifices it took to keep doing it. John leans back against the bar, and follows your lead, gazing out into the party.

“What do you do?” he asks.

“An events planner. Weddings most often, but all sorts really,” you tell him. When he glances over at you, you have a small smile fighting its way back to your cheeks.

“I love it, I really do, and I’m good at it, but sometimes…” you sigh. “Being pulled away from your personal life at all hours because of something gone wrong, or last minute planning meetings, scoping out venues…” you trail off, waving your hand in a circular motion. “Sometimes it feels like it never ends.”

John hums to himself. In any other context he could be mistaken for thinking he was speaking to a seasoned military officer like himself. You look back over at him, a wistful smile on your face.

“Doesn’t do wonders for the love life, I’ll say now,” your voice is wry, and he can’t help but return your smile at that, lifting his whiskey to you.

“I’ll drink to that.”

You clink his glass with a chuckle, and take a big mouthful of your drink.

“I imagine things are far more hectic for you than just a bride who’s bespoke dress doesn’t fit two days before the wedding.”

“We’ve all got our battlefields love,” he says sincerely, leaning over to you again, this time as if he’s sharing a secret with you. “But I tell you what, I’d take an enemy with a gun over an angry bride any day.”

You laugh at that, really laugh, and he shares a chuckle, but can’t quite drag his eyes away from you. Somehow, he gets the impression it’s been a while since you’ve laughed like that. He’s caught out staring, but you don’t say anything as you turn your body back to him, now closer than he remembers you being and you lean forward, your head resting in your hand propped up on the bar top.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” you say almost shyly. “But do you want to get out of here?”

John hears himself answering before he’s even fully processed your proposal.

–

Price forcibly stops himself from bouncing his leg under his desk, pulling his mind back to the mission reports in front of him. Despite this, his eyes flicker to the small clock on his desk and he lets out a huff, refocusing his eyes on the pages in front of him. It was 4:30pm, and the task force had only arrived back in London last night. Surely he could be forgiven for packing up early, leaving what's left of these reports for tomorrow.

But no. He’d send all his men home early before he left, and he knows for a fact Soap, Gaz and Ghost were still sat at their desks, so until they left, he stayed.

He makes it through the next two hours by placating himself with a cigar, focuses on that instead, and he knows he’ll thank himself in the morning, when he can officially start his leave, and not use up the day finishing off his paperwork.

Soap leaves around 5pm, and Ghost takes off shortly after. Gaz stops in on his way out around the same time, knocking lightly on his door and saying goodbye before he disappears for the next few weeks.

At 6:38pm a series of messages light up his phone.

Text: I’m not sure what you thought I meant when I said I needed the finalised table arrangements for tomorrow to transport to the venue, but that wasn’t a request, Jonathan.

Text: It is completely unacceptable, if you needed help or knew you couldn’t get it done, you should have called me.

Price stares at his phone in confusion. At first, seeing your name on his screen had brought a smile to his face, but as he reads the texts, he can only blink bewildered down at them. It’s strange, despite him being certain these messages are not meant for him, he feels a small twinge of guilt.

He calls you.

“John?! Hi!” you sound breathless on the other end.

“I think you texted the wrong John in your phone, love,” he says, slightly amused, but more intrigued about what the situation you’re in is. There’s some muffled sound on the other end of the line, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, you’re not at work are you?!”

Price chuckles, and sits back in his desk chair.

“Just got back, finished up my paperwork and am all set for leave. You couldn’t have mistakenly told me off through text at a better time.”

He hears your laugh on the other end, but it’s pinched and slightly distracted.

“I’m so sorry,” you say again, now sounding like you were struggling with something.

“Sounds like you’re in a bad spot.”

“Ah, this assistant I hired thinks when I tell him to do something it’s optional,” you huff, sounding like you’re really doing your best not to get worked up. “I have a wedding tomorrow, and the table arrangements needed to be taken up to the venue tonight, but they aren’t done at all, and he won't answer his phone,” you trail off slightly into a mutter, but he swears he hears something along the lines of ‘I’m going to fucking kill him’.

“You need backup, love?” he asks, already figuring out a plan in his head of how he’d help you through this crisis.

“John, you literally just got home,” you say almost pleadingly. He smiles. He didn’t know how to accept help either.

“Where are you, sounds busy?” He asks. You let out a groan, and rattle off the name of a wholesale crafts store. In no more than five minutes, Price is in his car and on his way to you.

The location he arrives at seems closed when he pulls up, but the light were still on, like maybe the staff were cashing up for the night. He approaches the doors cautiously, not surprised when they don’t open, but after a moment he rapps his knuckles on the glass, and a harried looking man pops out of nowhere and hurries over, unlocking a side entrance and poking his head out.

“I’m so sorry sir, but we’re actually closed,” the man tells him. Price gives him a friendly smile.

“I’m here to help my friend, a wedding planner? She–” he cuts himself off when he sees you practically sprinting up from somewhere deep in the aisles.

“Fred! He’s here to help!” you say puffily when you arrive, and the man, Fred, looks back at him with an apologetic expression.

“Sorry about that,” he opens the door wider, and stands aside, letting Price slip in, before he locks the door once more, and turns to you.

“Just give a shout when you’re finished up,” he says warmly, before returning to what Price assumes must be some kind of stocktake.

Your chest is heaving when he looks back at you, and no matter how put-together and professional you appear, you have a frantic look about you.

“John, I can’t thank you enough,” you say sincerely, and for a moment, he swears your eyes get a little shinier, before you’re blinking back any wetness that might be threatening to form. You close your eyes for a moment, and take a deep breath. “Cry later,” you say like it’s a joke, but he can tell from your demeanour that it’s likely true.

“Where do you need me?”

John is used to taking orders, he didn’t always obey them, but that was a different story. However, he finds it shockingly easy to fall into line with you, despite not fully understanding every third word or idea you threw out, but he realises quickly he doesn’t have to. You point to things you need, referring back to your phone frequently, and giving him numbers in exact, describing things he needs to fetch.

Regardless of your clear and apparent stress, you don’t get impatient or stroppy when he returns with the wrong width ribbon, in fact you seem to take a certain amount of relief in explaining to him the difference between a 2.5 inch and a 3 inch, besides the measurements, and what purposes each could serve in any given situation. It’s not information or knowledge he thinks he’ll ever really need, but he enjoys learning it from you, enjoys watching you grow a little more calm by the minute each time he asks you to clarify or re-issue an order.

You leave with about three trolleys worth of items, vases and faux-flowers and other decorative things he didn’t really know the name for. This world, the one you lived in, was so vastly different from his own, yet as you check out, griping with Fred about your current situation, and thanking him profusely, he thinks you’d look at his mission planning and recon and find it a walk in the park.

He helps you carry your things to his car, almost laughing outright when you announce you’re about to order a MAXI cab, but quietly enamoured with the way you don’t argue or try to insist when he tells you he’d driven and will take you wherever you need to go. Like a soldier faced with a sudden unexpected change in plans, you simply readjust your mission parameters, and help him load up the boot.

Once you’re settled inside, you seem to take a moment, pulling your jacket off, smoothing down your hair, and then you look over at him and it’s as though you’re only just noticing his presence for the first time.

“Hi,” you say almost giddily. John can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. “I’m sorry if I was bossy,” you say, like you’ve just returned to base and can now process the previous hours worth of events. John shakes his head.

“I’m a military man, love, you give orders, I’ll follow ‘em.”

Your face softens even more then, and you lean across the console, John eagerly meeting you, and you press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I missed you,” you say quietly as you pull back. John smiles wider.

Your one night had turned into breakfast the next morning, had turned into lunch the next day, and dinner the next evening. He’d spent approximately half of his remaining leave with you, and for those short few weeks had fallen into a comfortable kind of routine that felt dangerously easy. John hadn’t shied away from it though. Danger was his life, and while you had spent a lot of time with one another, nothing had felt too fast, nothing felt too out of line. You seemed to fit into each other's lives perfectly, John never complaining when you had to take a call or leave a date early, and you didn’t seem anything more than concerned for him when he was called away four days prior to his leave ending.

Any time he’d gotten to spend with you had felt good enough by way of simply being with you.

“Missed you too,” he says, settling back in his seat and holding his hand out over the glove box, squeezing when you tuck your fingers in with his, and he pulls out of the car park.

He takes you home, to your flat, remembers the way without you having to prompt him, and once you and your cargo are inside, bags and boxes littering every surface of your rather plush kitchen and dining room, you turn to him with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, John, you probably hear this all the time, but you really saved me tonight,” you say with a small chuckle, but your tone implying you think he’s about to leave. Price cocks his head at you, raising an eyebrow.

“You can thank me when we’re done, love,” he tells you, stepping closer, as if to confirm he isn’t going anywhere just yet. “What’s first?”

You look up at him almost exasperatedly.

“John,” you say, firmly now. “You just got back. I’m going to be up all night doing this, and driving them up to the venue at god knows what hour,” you sound like you’re trying to scare him off. Price doesn’t budge.

“Then we should get started, hmm?”

You scrunch your nose at him, and he smiles, dropping a kiss to your lips as he sweeps past you, taking the closest box and beginning to unpack.

–

It’s five hours later when all forty arrangements are finished. You’d changed at some point, disappearing into your bedroom to remove your makeup and replace your work clothes with some sweatpants and an old tshirt. John had felt honoured you’d trusted him enough to carry on unattended, and when you’d returned, you’d wrapped your arms around him from behind and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You’d told him the arrangement he’d just about finished in that time looked ‘perfect’.

“What time is the wedding?” he asks, standing back as you finish fluffing up and counting each piece for the second or third time.

“10am,” you reply, almost on autopilot. “But I need to be there at eight to oversee everything,” you inform him, a yawn interrupting you mid sentence. John hums.

“The families are all staying in town, just outside the venue, I’ve got a room there too. Had to come back when I realised…” you trail off, straighten, then shake your head.

John nods.

“Let's get these loaded up then?”

You nod, tiredly, but you don’t falter nor drag your feet as you help him carry each arrangement out to his car. He watches you intrigued and impressed when you return after the last arrangement is packed with a stack of the flattened boxes from the store, and you pull them apart strategically to brace and support the rows of vases, slotting the cardboard in between and around each one to keep them upright.

When you’re done at last, he closes the boot and looks down at you.

“You’ve done this before,” he states playfully, expecting the gentle elbow you knock him with but taking it anyway as you return to your flat briefly to collect your shoes, your purse and lock your door.

“What's the drive?” he asks when you’re both back in his car, his hand reaching out behind your headrest. You look dog-tired, and you yawn again, but pull out your phone and rattle off the address, some fancy estate in York. It’s almost a five hour drive, but John pats your knee, and sets off as soon as you’re ready.

“You mind if we stop off somewhere quick?” He asks, glancing over at you in the passenger's seat. The roads were clear for the most part, but he was still driving cautiously, taking each turn slowly. “It’s on the way, I promise,” he adds after a moment, and you blink at him owlishly, like you’re surprised he’s even asked.

“John, after everything you’ve done for me tonight, you could stop off at Disneyland if you promised we’d still make it back in time,” you tell him. Price huffs out a laugh, but takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“Won’t be long at all,” he assures you again.

His home luckily doesn’t take you far off trajectory, but he watches you perk up with interest as he comes to a stop on the street outside, throwing the car into park before he turns to you.

“Won’t be but a moment,” he tells you, then disappears.

You look up at the beautiful home, in a quiet, peaceful little neighbourhood, and you can’t help but smile. It’s not really at all what you’d expected, but you like it. You think if your life wasn’t so full on in the city, you’d like to live somewhere like it.

You watch as a few lights are turned on in various rooms, but he seems to be making his way upstairs, and faster than you really thought he might take, the lights are turning off once more in the same order they were switched on. Then he’s back at the car, carrying a dry cleaning bag that he takes and hangs from the hand hold above the back seat, before returning to the driver’s side and climbing back in.

You’re looking back at the bag curiously, turning to him when you can’t seem to divine through the black zipped fabric what it could be, though you suppose, there’s only so many options.

“Your outfit better not be the same as mine,” you joke, as he buckles himself back in, placing his hand once more on the back of your headrest as he checks behind him, before pulling out.

“Not unless you’re also wearing a needlessly complicated dress uniform,” he chortles, pulling out into the quiet road again and getting you both back on target.

“Needlessly complicated? Maybe. Uniform? Absolutely not,” you tell him with a tone that he thinks suggests he will quite like what you’re wearing tomorrow. You seem to think about something for a moment before you laugh to yourself. “My jewellery might outshine yours, though I certainly didn’t work as hard as you did for it,” you tell him, still chortling to yourself. John scoffs.

“After tonight, sweetheart, I’m tempted to pin one of those medals on you,” he has a laugh of his own when you roll your eyes and harmlessly shove his shoulder.

The drive turns quiet as the roads get darker, and the town passes you by. When he looks over at you only minutes later, you’re fast asleep, and John hums contentedly to himself.

—

Regrettably he has to wake you when you arrive at the venue. He doesn’t have any of the necessary authority to grant him access, but you jump out the car, with him standing closely behind and speaking in quiet words with the security guard at the gate, who greets you kindly and lets you in without so much as checking your ID. John figures you’d been down here over the last few days setting up the venue, that the guy knows who you are.

You climb back in the car, and make your way up the long driveway, where at the top, you direct him to pull off to the side. It was early now, around 4:30am, but still as dark as ever. Another security guard meets you around the side entrance, leading you into a massive ballroom already mostly filled with tables and chairs and place settings and decorations.

It looks lavish, utterly magical, and John can’t help but turn to you as you each carry a vase inside, the security guard trailing behind you also helping you unload.

“You did all this?” He asks. You roll your eyes, but smile at him, and give a small shrug.

“Well, the bride certainly didnt’t,” you tell him, sounding proud. He follows your directions, places each vase at the very centre of each table, back and forth, back and forth, until all forty are set and ready. You stand back, hands on your hips, but a slight slump to your shoulder. You check your phone.

“It’s five,” you say, the tiniest of whines in your voice. John smiles sympathetically at you, and draws you in by the shoulders, kissing your temple as you wind your arms around his middle and seem to fall into him.

“I’m so tired,” you actually do whine this time, almost like you’re on the verge of tears. John adjusts his arms tighter around you and hums, rocking you a little.

“Two of you still have a couple hours before the wedding,” the guard says from somewhere behind him, and John turns his head to send him a small smile and a nod.

“Come on,” he says to you, keeping you close even as he pulls back some, to get you walking again. “Let's get you to bed.”

The hotel is quiet. It’s a local place, with quite a nice pub down the bottom, and once he’s gotten you upstairs and to your room, you all but collapse on the bed.

“What time do you need to be up, love?” John asks quietly, pulling your sneakers off as you lie sideways on the bed, legs still hanging off, an arm thrown over your eyes. You groan a little at the jostling, but otherwise lay completely still like a rag doll, even when he briefly sits you upright again, removing your large oversized sweater, your face pressed into the crook of his neck as he holds you upright.

He knows you're not asleep, your eyes are still blearily open, but he might have been fooled for how quiet you are, how even your breathing is. Once the sweater is set aside, to be folded neatly once you’ve got your head on your pillow, John keeps you in place slumped against his front, gently trailing his hands up your neck to find the clasps on your necklaces. You shift a bit, ticklish maybe, and he can’t help but smile as he locks that information away, and keeps going, removing your simple gold chain, steadying you with one hand while he leans across with the other to place the jewellery on the bedside.

His fingers trace up to your ears, and you shiver again, making him chuckle lightly as you grumble tiredly at him.

“Earrings off?” He asks, receiving a small nod. He goes about that task too, struggling for a moment with the tiny pin and clasp, before finally managing to pull them apart, putting them aside too. His hands drop to your shoulders then, before trailing down to your arms, then finding your hands. He pulls apart from you just enough to bring the backs of your fingers to his lips, kissing each hand gently.

“What time do you need to be up?” He asks again.

You finally move on your own, crawling back away from him, though trying to keep one hand holding his, until you’re forced to let go. John helps you pull the sheets back, settling you beneath.

“Seven-thirty,” you croak, voice a little rough from lack of sleep and stress. John leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead, a little surprised you have the wherewithal to reach out before he can pull back, cupping his cheeks with both hands, and drawing him back to you.

You kiss him a little more deeply than he’s expecting, slowly, soft, like you have all the time in the world, and not mere hours before you need to be up again.

“What was that for?” He asks with a short chuckle after pulling away, his forehead rested against yours.

“For doing all this even though you didn’t have to.”

John swallows for a moment. He could easily tell you otherwise, but you’d both know it wouldn’t quite be true. He was bone tired, had barely slept since his return, and if you’d asked him hypothetically, this would have been the last thing on earth he’d have felt like doing immediately post mission. And yet it wasn’t just his training and drive that kept him going. You were right, he didn’t have to, but there was also no way he wasn't going to.

John smiles, and turns his head to press a kiss into one of your palms.

“I’ll wake you, seven-thirty,” he tells you. You hum.

He leaves you there, retires to the bathroom to shower the day off. When he returns to your dimmed room, he folds both of your discarded clothes and places them on a chair in the corner, grabbing his phone and setting the alarm, before turning out the lamp. The moment you sense him in the bed beside you, you roll toward him, settling in the crook of his arm, and it takes very little effort to mold himself around you, wrap you up, and press a kiss to your hairline.

–

You walk swiftly, even in your high heels, through the ceremony room, checking and double checking every detail, even as guests begin to filter in. It had taken everything in you not to drag John back to your room this morning after you’d both readied, and you’d seen him in that damn dress unifrom.

He may have found it overly complicated, and perhaps not fully comfortable, but you, you found it absolutely delectable. You glance back to him standing toward the back of the room, looking like he was standing guard over it. At last satisfied that everything is in its place and as it should be, you head back toward him, feeling a slight trill when his gaze snaps toward you, then back toward something else.

You falter for a moment, resisting the urge to look back over your shoulder to find whatever he’s looking at.

“John?” you ask as you approach. His attention falls back on you quickly, and this time it stays there, though you can’t shake the feeling that he seems… uncomfortable. “Are you alright?” you lift your hand to reach for him, but hesitate, and in your brief moment of pause, you watch him quickly take in your uncertainty, and even more quickly alleviate it by offering his own hand to you, drawing you closer.

John clears his throat a little and gives you a tight, rueful smile.

“My ex-wife is here,” he tells you quietly, but with a mirthless little chuckle. You blink back at him, not managing to mask your surprise. You have no judgement for him though, the fact that he’d been married previously is simply news to you. You squeeze his hand and lean in closer.

“You don’t have to be here,” you say. John lowers his chin at you, and he gives you an almost sardonic look.

“Messed things up the first time not bein’ here, I’m not making that mistake again,” he tells you, setting off a million butterflies in your stomach. You return his sardonic look though, and roll your eyes.

“You’ve already proven your point well enough by now, if you’re uncomfortable with…” you trail off, and look over your shoulder as subtly as you can.

“Green dress, left side,” he says, and you narrow in on a pretty blonde woman chatting amiably with some other guests. “And I’m not uncomfortable,” he assures you, making you turn back around. “Jus’ surprised to see her,” he adds.

You move around to his side, still holding his hand, and he brings it up again like he had last night, kissing the backs of your fingers, his moustache gently scratching against them. You lean against the wall much more casually than he is, and squeeze his hand.

“Good terms, then?” you ask curiously, now you know he’s not sweating to run out of here. John hums lowly.

“Yeah, by the end,” he speaks in a manner that sounds factfual, but he doesn’t hide the slight melancholy in his voice. You bump his shoulder with your own and nod at the pews subtly.

“She’s noticed you,” you tell him, making him smile down at you.

“I know.”

“You could talk to her, if you wanted,” you suggest. John shakes his head.

“I’ll let her approach me, if she wants. Days not about me. Or her,” he says and you have to suppress a dreamy little sigh.

“You’re a good man,” you tell him, and for a moment, his smile widens into a funny little grin.

“Sometimes,” he tells you, a little cryptically, but you brush him off.

–

The day carries on just as planned.

You rush around from place to place, John never far behind you, except when he somehow knows to stay out of your way, at which point you find him always nearby, but never lingering. You introduce your unknown guest to the bride and groom, both of whom seem happy, if not honoured, to have a ‘distinguished military man’ as their additional helper, and you even spy at one point, the groom roping him into a lively conversation with some of the other groomsmen.

He’s funny, and amiable, and perfect, and you’re forced to smile each time you see him.

Even later on in the night, when you spot the woman in the green dress approaching him on the sidelines.

He hugs her, but steps away quickly, and just like you had earlier, she comes to a lean against the wall next to him. You keep one eye on them as they appear to talk amicably, friendly even, a few smiles and laughs going shared between them.

Maybe for a singular moment you feel jealousy licking at your heels, but it fades quickly. There’s no longing or lingering looks between the two of them, no expressions of regret or sadness going shared. When another man approaches, almost cautiously, John’s ex-wife stands taller again, wrapping her arm around the new man's back and seemingly introducing him.

The two men shake hands, and then you watch on as a friendly, comfortable conversation ensues, only taken aback slightly when John’s gaze flickers past the couple he’s speaking to, and he gestures lightly over at you. Both of his companions turn to look at you, the woman in green smiles widely at you, and you straighten up, about to begin walking over, when somebody grabs your arm gently, and suddenly your attention is elsewhere, drawn to one more small fire you hurry away to put out.

John finds you some time later while you’re seeing off the catering staff. Most of the guests were gone now, the bride and groom certainly having disappeared a while ago, and when you turn to face him, you can see on his face just how tired he is.

“That’s a wrap?” he asks, putting his arm around your shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down over your skin when he feels how cold you are. You nod, and lean into his side.

“Yup, I’m all done. The service vendors will pack the place up. I’m off the hook,” you tell him. John looks down at you with a beaming smile.

“You did beautifully,” he tells you, before lowering his chin. “Sleep for three days?”

You laugh, and lift your own hand up to brush over his chest.

“Absolutely.”

—

It’s a few days later, and you’re lying in bed together, panting a little after your most recent exertions. Your head and half your body lay over John’s, your fingers running lightly over the hair on his chest.

“Would you ever think about doing this again?” you ask, still halfway lost in your thoughts. John looks down at you, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips.

“Darlin’ I think about doing this again all the time,” he says, making you scoff and smack him lightly. He laughs and leans down to kiss your temple.

“No, I meant– I was thinking about the wedding– would you ever get married again?” You hate how your voice has turned small, how he can probably divine all sorts of things from that alone. John hums, and shifts a little.

“I’m not someone who’s sworn off it, love, but…” he trails off, and when you look up at him, he’s frowning slightly. When he realises you’re looking at him, he smiles, a little ruefully, but you can tell he means it. His arms come around you a little tighter and he drops another kiss to your forehead.

“My jobs not so simple as just being in the army,” he tells you with a small sigh. You frown, intrigued now, and sit up slightly, resting on your forearms beside him.

“You don’t talk about work very much,” you say, prompting him. John nods and hums again, his hand still curved around your back traces up slightly over your bare skin.

“I’m in the SAS, love,” he tells you, making you pause for a moment. You look at him squinting, not that you think he’s lying but you cock your head. You realise he’d never told you, but you were friends with Daniel, you’d spoken about his former military career. You’d asked John when you first met if they’d worked together, he’d said yes.

“Fancy,” you say, recieving a laugh.

“Hardly,” John’s voice is a little tight, but he looks at you again, from where his eyes had wandered to the ceiling, before drawing his free hand over his face.

“I’m away a lot. It’s dangerous. There’s a very real chance one day I don’t come back at all.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and you frown even deeper, only stopping when his hand on your back moves from around you and comes up to smooth out the creases between your eyes.

“Anybody I…” he stops, pausing for a moment before he looks up at you and his hand moves to cup your cheek. ”You, you have to be okay with that,” he says at last, his voice solemn but firm. You place your hand around his own on your cheek, and move it, closing his fist so you can kiss the backs of his fingers like he often did to you.

“I think I’ve got enough to keep me busy, besides,” you kiss his hand again, a small smile blooming across your cheeks now. “I already knew you were SAS,” you tell him.

You watch John’s gaze turn curious and thoughtful. He’s trying to remember if he’d said anything previously that might have tipped you off.

“You worked with Danny, right? You told me when we first met.”

John’s features turn surprised, before accepting, and he wraps his arm around the back of your head and draws you in. You kiss him gently, soft, scrunching your nose a little at the feel of his slightly grown out facial hair.

“And you’ve put up with me anyway,” he says, like it’s been a massive sacrifice on your part. You roll your eyes and poke his cheek.

“John, no man I’ve ever been with has stepped up for me the way you did this past weekend,” you tell him sincerely. “If that’s what you’re like when you are around, that’s all I need.”

John kisses you again, sweeter this time, a peck, but you press back for more, and make him chuckle. You pull back, and gaze down at him.

“The answer is yes, sweetheart,” he says then, voice just barely above a whisper. “I have thought about doing this again.”

–

You move in together six months later.

Sort of.

You keep your townhouse in the city, and he keeps his house just outside of it. He stays with you during the weeks, brings some of his belongings, helps you rearrange your office and sets up a desk of his own. On the weekends and multiple days in a row you could work from home, you go up to his house and relax, he helps you move some things around, and you have more than one drawer worth of clothing in your shared bedroom.

John comes and goes, lucky enough to obtain some regular sort of schedule in that time, and more than a year after you first started cohabiting, you start getting the itch for more.

“Do you want to buy a house?” you ask over lunch. John pauses momentarily, halfway through chewing but he looks over at you curiously.

“We have two houses,” he says. You roll your eyes.

“I mean sell those, find somewhere in the middle ground?”

John frowns.

“Like where?” he asks, sounding slightly suspicious. You pull out your phone, and list off a few of the areas that you’ve been thinking about, somewhere quiet and homey the way he likes, but still close enough to the city it’s not such a hassle for you.

“Sweetheart,” he says in a slightly apologetic tone. “I dunno if we can afford that,” he says honestly. You like that about him. As much as John couldn’t talk about certain aspects of his life, the ones he could were never a closed book to you.

You hum at him. John wasn’t struggling for money, you know that much. His work paid well, it’d have to you think, but you had your suspicions for a while now that your work paid even better.

“Yes we can,” you tell him factually. You gesture at your kitchen. “This place has only gone up in value, and it’s already worth…” you trail off. You didn’t really discuss finances all that much, and now it comes to talking about it, you almost feel self conscious. You’d both agreed that instead of paying half each other’s bills, you’d both keep on paying your own ways, seeing as you spent more or less equal time at each other's homes. “I don’t rent this place,” you say then, realising, you’re not sure if he knows that. It had just never come up.

John’s eyebrows raise.

“You own this?” he asks, trying to sound curious but he fails to hide his bewilderment.

“John I–” you cut yourself off, not knowing how to explain this to him, but settle on facts. He liked knowing those, helped him get a clear picture of his situation and surroundings. “I think I make more money than you– substantially more,” you tell him, your voice almost sounding placating. “We can afford any of those areas twice over,” you say.

John stares at you, his eyes flickering over your face, before he sits back in his chair and, taking another bite of his pasta salad, begins scanning around your kitchen and living room like he’d never seen it before. You worry needlessly for a moment that you’ve insulted him, wonder if maybe he doesn’t like the fact you’re above him slightly on the pay scale. But then he looks back at you, a funny little smirk on his face and he lowers his chin.

“So this isn’t a question you’re asking me to make a decision on,” he says with a chortle in his voice. You roll your eyes and reach out for his hand which he gives happily.

“I am asking you. We sell our places and look for one together, put the money toward that. It doesn’t have to be an even split, I want to live with you properly,” you say. John squeezes your fingers.

“Well, don’t I feel like the kept man,” he chuckles. You roll your eyes again.

“Hardly, although, if you do want to quit your job and be my stay at home boyfriend, I wouldn’t complain.”

John shakes his head, giving you another little laugh.

“Any house we live in would be your house anyway, love. Yours and any little ones,” he says, making your stomach flutter furiously like it often did around him.

“Well, I’m definitely not carting any children back and forth across half of London,” you tell him faux-warningly. John shakes his head again.

“No, no, we’ll find a little place, good schools nearby, parks,” he perks up then, like he’s just remembered something. “We’ll get a minivan,” he tells you with an expression you know means he already knows your feelings on that.

You stare at him blankly.

“Like fuck we will,” you snap petulently, giving him the response he’s looking for and sending his head back with a hearty laugh. “You get one John, two if you behave,” you point warningly at him. John rubs his thumb over the backs of your fingers and leans forward again.

“Three?” He asks, seemingly testing you. You blink slowly at him.

“You can have three if and when you retire,” you tell him seriously.

John, for his part, doesn’t seem put off by this. He strokes his moustache thoughtfully.

“Two in the meantime, then?” he asks. You nod.

“House first. Then ring. Then two,” you tell him. John takes up your other hand too, your left, and raises it to his eyeline, searching like he’s looking for something that you both know isn’t there.

“First two can be in any order, I think,” he tells you, eyes flickering up to yours over your knuckles.

“First two are non negotiable, but can be completed in whatever order you choose,” you tell him, faux-haughtily. He brings your left hand to his lips then kisses over your ring finger softly before releasing it once more and returning to his lunch.

“I’ll sort it, love,” he tells you.

–

Price opens the door at seven in the morning, half expecting the movers to have arrived early. What he finds instead is Soap, Ghost and Gaz standing meekly on the doorstep. He raises an eyebrow.

“Told you he’d be up,” Simon says from the back of the group.

“And who told you where I lived?” Price wonders aloud, not quite glaring at his men.

Soap whistles loudly, looking up at the facade of the building.

“Swanky, Captain, real swanky,” he says, ignoring the question and wiggling his eyebrows.

“John? Is that the movers? They’re early,” your voice sounds from behind him and John steps aside, widening the door so you can see the three stooges on your stoop.

They must have heard the complaining he was doing last week about the first move, carting all his things from his house and into the new one, and heard a cry for help. Despite all evidence to the contrary, mainly the bored look on his face, Price thinks this is Simon’s idea.

“Cavalry’s here, love,” John says as you step into view, your face morphing from surprise into joy as you spot the men outside.

“Boys!” you say happily, bustling your way past John and outside to share hugs all around. Even Simon opens one arm to wrap you up briefly. “It’s good to see you lot again,” you say, stepping back to stand with John.

“Cap was complainin’ about the last move, figured we’d lend a hand with this one!” Gaz says. John doesn’t quite scowl.

“I wasn’t complaining,” he tells you.

You pat his arm, and look back at Gaz.

“Think he almost did his back out with the desk coming down the stairs,” you tell him, earning a snort from Simon.

“That’s the problem with mahogany desks, I hear,” Gaz says with a heavy lathering of faux sympathy.

“It’s not mahogany, it’s pine– it doesn’t matter,” John mutters, stepping back and ushering the three men inside.

Most of your belongings (and John’s) were already packed, each room with a stack of labelled boxes and a directory list. Each of your additional helper’s had come with their own cars, so the boxes get loaded up according to which rooms they belong, and the movers van when it arrives takes all the appliances and heavy goods.

“Fuckin’ hell, look’t this place,” Soap says shortly after you’ve arrived at the new house for the first trip of the day.

“It’s nice isn’t it?!” you say excitedly. Up until the first move last week, John had only seen the place in some extensive pictures you’d sent the last time he was away, although when he’d gotten home a couple weeks back, you’d taken a drive past the outside so you could show him.

“Weddin’ plannin’ really pays off, huh?” Gaz adds with a short impressed whistle. You laugh at that and nod.

“And here’s everyone thinkin’ you’re the one lookin’ for a bit of sugar, huh?” Simon says, sidling up, already with a box in his hands.

You scoff and smack the box.

“It was the only neighbourhood I could find that was close to work for both of us, and had good schools nearby,” you tell the boys as you meander up the front steps and unlock the door.

“Yer goin’ back to school?” Soap asks with no small amount of surprise in his voice. You turn around and look at him, baffled, when John siddles past, a box held in one arm, and he smacks Johnny over the back of his head lightly.

“For children, MacTavish.”

Soap doesn’t appear all that put out, even when Simon pushes past him next.

“You’re lucky you’re good looking, Johnny,” he says with a slight huff, checking the label on his box as he goes. Soap puffs his chest out, looking proud of himself.

“Ye hear tha’? LT thinks I’m good lookin’!”

Gaz eyes him evenly as he too passes.

“Don’t think that was a compliment, mate.”

You get all the boxes into their designated rooms by the late afternoon, order some food, get some beers, and by the time you’re seeing everyone off, you’re bone tired. John finds you in the bedroom, unpacking a few things. You’d made up a ‘go bag’ like he’d suggested, full of the things you use everyday, your phone charger, changes of clothes, your toiletries… and one other thing.

“Okay, I know we said we’d wait, but,” you realise your voice is echoed by his, and you turn around, blinking at each other. Then you realise he’s on one knee. Then he realises you’re holding a pregnancy test.

You blink at each other once more.