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#he is so handsome it is hurting my chest.
angelcent · 20 hours
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𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ S. GOJO
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summary. after a company dinner, satoru asks something of you. something you don’t see coming.
tags. smut, established relationship, femdom sort of, come eating, sub!gojo, humiliation, praise, unexpected mommy kink. 1.5k wc.
note. re-upload from two years ago. it’s not the best writing, but I wanted this fic on my new account. <3
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Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the position you’re in, and you should’ve known better. Should’ve known better than to think Satoru could no longer surprise you. He’s the most unpredictable person you’ve ever met, and you’re sure you’re spending the rest of your life with him. You’ve never felt that for any relationship you’ve had, but as you look down at him, you’re certain.
This is the handsome man you’ll marry.
“Y-you sure?” you stammered, playing with the hem of your mini cocktail dress.
His words add a heavy weight to your new heels, smooth and shiny black with a red bottom. They accentuated your bare legs, and now you understood just why Satoru was so insistent on you wearing them tonight. Why he was so impatient throughout the company dinner.
“Yeah,” he sighed, squirming in anticipation as he kneels before you. If anyone could see this powerful man asking this of you while on his knees, you’re not sure what they’d think.
Your eyes trailed down his body. His soft white button up is half undone, exposing his flushed chest. There’s a slight flash of his nipple piercings. The black slacks are stretched over his toned legs, thighs wide and cock tenting in the tight fabric. The bulge is big, making you bite your lip as you think about how it feels fucking inside of you. And he wants you to…
“Do it, step on me.” Satoru urges, leaning forward slightly to nuzzle against your belly. He looks up at you with his chin against your lower belly, pleading with his morning star eyes. “Why do you think I bought those pretty shoes for you? I’ve been thinking about this all night, baby. Please.”
Satoru likes spoiling you—it's been the case since the beginning of your relationship. Even before then. Not just with material things, either. He spoils you with his love and affection; the man is practically whipped, hanging off your every word. You have him wrapped around your finger. So shouldn’t you indulge him as well? He deserves to have his desires granted after all he's done for you.
With a bite to your lip and a shaky nod, you trace the bulge lightly with the toe box of your shoe. Satoru is very sensitive, so you add little pressure out of fear of hurting him. Instead, the opposite happens. You watch as his eyelids flutter shut, white lashes kissing the high of his cheekbones. How his breath begins to quicken at this featherlight touch—so light that you don’t even feel it.
Satoru's lips part with a rough groan, sounding all too pleased. “Yeah, fuck. Just like that.”
He’s so wanton that it makes your face heat up in embarrassment. Never did you think that he’d be into something like this…very into it by the looks of it. He lifts his hips up, blindly reaching for more friction against your shoe. Did he—he wants it harder? Does he want it to hurt? Based on his attempts to buck up against you made your palms clammy. Made you itch for something you never knew you would.
You pulled the tip of your shoe away from his clothed erection, feeling yourself get aroused at the sound of his whine at the loss. “Stop that.” you scold suddenly, reaching to run your fingers through his styled white hair and pull his head back, making him look up at you. He does so with a light hiss, glassy blue eyes opening in surprise at the unexpected rough treatment. “Don’t get greedy, or else I’ll stop. Got it?”
Even though your voice was unsteady—hesitant in the role you’re taking, Satoru was greatly affected by it. His eyes glazed over fully in arousal, cheeks reddening in shame as he sucked on his lower lip. He looked good like that. Now that the shock was wearing off and you were gaining rhythm, you began to notice how wet you were getting. Your cunt felt slick and hot.
Satoru began nodding in obedience, looking like an eager puppy. “I’m sorry,” he pouted, chest beginning to rise a little quicker. “Don’t stop, don’t stop. Please. I’ll be good…”
You cursed under your breath.
With a gulp, you released your hold on his hair. “Good,” you smile sweetly, pressing against his cock again. This time you used the sole of your heels, actually feeling something under you as you applied more pressure. You relished in Satoru cursing and moaning at the pressure against his erection. “See what happens when you’re a good boy for me?”
Satoru leaned in to leave a few messy kisses against your navel in appreciation. He was starting to look pathetic.
It was so hot.
As you began to rub up and down his cock, he pulled away from you to look down at your elegant heels stepping on him. You did your best to mimic the strokes you’d do with your hands, but it seemed even your inexperienced technique was enough for Satoru. A wet patch formed over his slacks after a while, and he moaned in shame at the sight of it.
Yet he didn’t tell you to stop, making you realize that he’s getting off on the humiliation.
“Does it hurt?” you mumble, releasing a bit of pressure. You watch as Satoru’s hands twitch and clench at his sides, wondering how much more he can take.
He doesn’t answer you at first, so you pull on his hair and shake his head a little to snap him out of it. “Sorry…yes—shit. It hurts,” he whimpers, licking his bitten cherry lips. His thighs spread a bit wider as he slowly loses what little composure he has left. “I love it. Give me more, fuck. Do it harder please.”
This time, when he begins to buck against your shoe, you don’t stop him. This time, you indulge him and step down fully on his dick. You’re practically soaking through your underwear, and you want nothing more than to rub at your pussy until you gush all over Satoru’s face. But the rush of power stops you, it disciplines you into a patience you didn’t think you possessed.
You’re not sure how or why, but you know that maintaining a composed demeanor as Satoru unravels is what he wants. It adds to the shame he’s feeling, that he’s getting off on something so desperate while you’re unflustered.
So you continue, you press your thousand dollar heels on Satoru’s dick and squeeze hard against it with the entire sole. You’ve been so good at your role the entire time, but you finally crack when you release a gasp and whimper at the sight before you.
Satoru is leaning back on his hands now, sobbing in pain and pleasure, head tipped back as he falls apart—his adam's apple bobbing. He bites at his fist for a bit, groaning when you pull back.
Your pupils dilate when you see the big wet spot on Satoru’s expensive trousers, a black pool on the dark fabric. He’s leaking and terribly desperate to come—could probably come just from getting his cock stepped on but…
“Please, please, I’m sorry!” he sobs in sudden confusion, ready to beg even if he doesn’t know why you've stopped. It's an arresting sight, his handsome face ruddy with tears while he begs for forgiveness. It spurs you on to keep it going.
“F-finish yourself off on my leg.” you demand shakily, hoping you’re not asking for too much. All you hope for is that he goes along with it, because it’s all you can think of right now. You want nothing more than to see it. He’s been such a pathetic mess, so why not end it off like that?
Without a fight, Satoru wraps himself around your leg, and begins to hump against your shin desperately. The weight and your arousal makes your legs feel like jelly, but you remain upright as Satoru fucks against your leg. You hear him unbuckling his belt and you gasp when you feel his hot cock rubbing against your skin.
“I’m gonna come, mommy.” he cuts himself off with a broken groan, still sobbing and drunk with pleasure. “Please, can I come? I’m being good?”
Your mind is spinning, and you’re not sure what to think. You haven’t been touched or stimulated at all, but you don’t remember being so turned on like this. Nothing else matters except the man below you, the love of your life. Your…
“You have, baby.” you agree, scratching lightly at his scalp the way he likes. He whines. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, Satoru. An adorably pathetic boy, hm?”
“Just for you—‘m good just for you,” he slurs, losing rhythm as he continues fucking your leg. His strong shoulders shake as he tries to hold back. It seems he's truly waiting for your direction to come. “Fuck everyone else, only you.”
There's a brief temptation to edge him and see how long he can last. But you're desperate, too. Satoru will come on command and you have to witness it. “Mhm, just me and only me. So come for me, Satoru. Show me how much you love mommy.”
The heady rush of power reaches an unbeatable high as Satoru sloppily continues fucking your leg until he lets out a loud groan, spilling over your shin. You breathe out shakily as you feel his hot come running down to your ankle, and Satoru is muttering praises at you.
As he comes down from his high, he looks up at you with adoration in his baby blue eyes. He’s so handsome and charming, body broad and strong. Yet here he is, getting off on his dick being stepped on by your heels and fucking your leg like a pervert. Not only that, but as you look down at your leg, you don’t recall him ever coming so much. Your eyes gaze at the clearish sticky come for a few seconds before words spill out of your mouth.
“Clean up your mess,” you order, sticking your messy leg out slightly.
And he does. Fuck, he does. Satoru leans down to lay his tongue flat against your leg, lapping up his own come off of your soft skin.
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vscabarca · 2 days
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can u do where the reader is a nursing student and has to do a test and makes gavi their “patient” since he’s injured. I can see it being so funny and gavi throwing a small tantrum. Etc Ty 🤗
nursing student - pablo gavi
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summary: you’re a nursing student and gavi is your "patient" to practice on.
genre: fluff
a/n: i absolutely have no idea about anything medically related, so everything here is made up🤣 and thank you for the request! i‘ve actually got two requests like that in my inbox so i combined them:)
———
„Do I really have to do this?“ Gavi whined, already being splattered across your bed, accepting his fate as your test subject.
You were an ambitious nursing student, currently studying for your final exams of this semester. You were specialized in sports medicine because of the internship you were doing at FC Barcelona. That‘s also how you met your boyfriend Gavi. You were the one taping up his ear as he injured himself against Osasuna.
„I just need someone to practice on, but I can also practice on Fermín if you want.“ You teased, knowing Gavi would become jealous quite quickly. As you predicted, he swiftly turned his head, giving you an annoyed glare.
„That was not funny.“ Gavi said, placing his hands behind his head, watching you as you prepared everything for your examination.
„Baby I was joking. I wish you were the test person during the exam.“ You chuckled and walked over to him, giving him a kiss for reassurance. He shyly smiled when you broke apart, feeling better after you gave him a small ego boost.
You put on your gloves and walked over to the side Gavi was laying at.
„Okay just tell me if I hurt your knee during the examination.“ You said. Gavi was still recovering from his ACL injury, so you were more careful than usual.
He nodded, then sat up to remove his shirt for your general body check-up.
Your eyes swiftly glanced over his toned body and you felt your temperature rise. After all it was difficult to concentrate when your handsome boyfriend laid there only with shorts on. To that, you knew he was going to tease you for becoming shy.
„Are you nervous?“ Gavi’s voice lingered in suspicion, his eyebrows were crooked. You rolled your eyes but he was right, you were a bit nervous.
You first checked his heart and lungs with the stethoscope and as soon you pressed it onto his chest, Gavi whined again.
„Amor it’s cold!“ He twisted around the bed, making you let out a chuckle.
„C‘mon it’s not that bad. You’ve done this a thousand times during medicals, do you complain there too?“ You scolded with a laugh and continued to listen to his heartbeat.
He gave you a side eye, pouting slightly at your words. You kissed his pout away a second time and looked for a flashlight to check his eyes. (a/n: i hope you know what I mean lol)
„Do you kiss all your patients?“
„Only the hot ones.“ You returned with a grin, to which Gavi let out a smile.
„Alright let’s check your flexibility.“ You said, trying to distract yourself from the teasing. After all you had to practice, there was no time to swoon over your man.
After checking his knees, being extra careful with his right one, you moved over to looking at the anatomy of the human body. This was also a big part of your exam, so it was the perfect time to look at an athlete‘s body.
„Okay so this here is the biceps brachii muscle.“ Your hand softly traced over his arm until you reached his shoulder. „…and this here is the trapezius muscle…“ you were in your own world, your gaze shifting from the textbook over to Gavi‘s body several times to see if you were right. Gavi smiled softly. He first wanted to tease you again about something, but as he saw you so concentrated, so focused on studying the right thing, he let it be and just admired you.
Gavi was proud to see you studying medicine. You were so smart, always giving him a massage or taping him up if something was nagging him after practice.
„Although I don’t like being your test subject and would rather cuddle with you, I can’t stop being so proud of you.“ You looked up, your cheeks red once again after hearing his words. A shy smile spread across your face as his compliments still made you nervous.
You stood on your tiptoes, textbook and anatomy long forgotten and grabbed his neck to bring him closer. His lips soon found yours and you both got lost in the sweet feeling of each other. Gavi brought you in a hug, quietly whispering into your ear.
„Can we cuddle now?“
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little-diable · 11 hours
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My Greatest Fear - Dean Winchester (smut)
Don't say I didn't warn y'all. Inspired by Benson Boone's new song "My Greatest Fear". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: Dean broke things off with the reader years ago, the biggest mistake of his life. But when Sam tells his brother that (y/n) is getting married, Dean knows it's time to make things right. He won't leave this life behind without being able to call her his once again.
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, ex-lovers to lovers, some angst, lots of fluff tho, reader is a runaway bride
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (3k words)
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Got a lot on my mind that keeps me up at night, I’m tossing and turning, thinking that my life’s gone to waste
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Dean shot the waitress a big smile as she placed his breakfast down, blushing as the handsome man winked at her. The older Winchester brother was too focused on his food to pick up on the uneasiness radiating off Sam, to focus on the sadness swimming in his brother’s pupils. 
“Fuck, that’s good.” Dean’s moans rumbled through him as he ate the greasy deliciousness, sipping on his coffee every now and then. It took him a while to lift his gaze, to allow his green eyes to focus on Sam’s untouched breakfast, forcing Dean’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion. “Not hungry? Shouldn’t you eat something after a long run?” 
“Mhm,” Sam’s eyes were focused on the window, unable to look at his brother any longer. His heart clenched in his chest, his mind was racing faster than it had in the past months, struggling to part his lips. 
“Sam,” Dean’s raspy voice forced Sam’s eyes back towards his older brother, unable to hold eye contact for long. “What’s wrong?” 
Dean had put down his breakfast burger while taking another sip of coffee. He patiently waited for Sam to speak, to spill whatever was visibly plaguing him. But Sam kept quiet, deeply inhaling as if he had to muster the strength to speak. Dean repeated his brother’s name, much quieter this time around, gentle almost – as if he had finally realised that whatever Sam was about to speak would hurt them both. 
“I received an email this morning.” It was a whisper, nothing more, words so obscurely simple that Dean couldn’t help but laugh. But Sam didn’t give in, killing Dean’s hope that Sam was simply fucking with him. Something heavy was about to claw through Sam, something heavy that could determine the outcome of this very day. “It was from Mary, (y/n)’s sister.”
Now it was on Dean to freeze, not expecting his brother to speak her name. Their eyes met, urging Sam to keep on speaking, to tell his brother about the email he had opened with shaky fingers, freezing in his step as he read the words she had written to him. 
“(Y/n)’s getting married, Dean.” Sam was forced to watch Dean sink back into the seat, arms crossed in front of his chest, uneasy eyes staring down at the table. And for a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the words sink in – words that had been Dean’s greatest fear ever since he had left her all these years ago. 
He had been stupid back then, too childish for his own good. Guided by his father’s words, he had dropped (y/n) and the life they could have lived together. His father had made pretty promises, telling his young son of women awaiting him, women he shouldn’t miss out on because of a marriage that would only tie him to (y/n), away from all the fun he could experience. The greatest mistake of his life, a mistake he hated himself for every single day. 
“That’s good for her. I’m happy she found somebody who treats her right.” The words pained Dean to speak, rolling off his tongue with a sharp edge that left Sam cringing. His hand found Dean’s forearm, gently squeezing his brother’s arm in a gesture so unfamiliar, Dean had to stop himself from shaking off Sam’s hand. 
“Dean, I’ve always loved her like a sister, I only want what’s best for her. But you’re my brother, I know how much not having her around scars you, I see it every day on your face. Get her back, try it at least.” 
Of all the things that I've been afraid to lose, my greatest fear of all is losing you
……
“I shouldn’t do this.” They were parked in front of the small church, eyes watching the big crowd of unfamiliar faces. Both Dean and Sam were wearing a suit, knowing that they had to blend in with the wedding guests to find their way to (y/n). “Why should she take me back? Why should she even listen to me?”
“Dean, if there is one thing I know it’s that she still loves you. Let’s get your girl back.” Sam was first to step out into the warm morning, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses as they walked up to the crowd. He felt Dean close, not daring to speak up with his choked-up throat, with his heart pounding in his chest, knowing that this would be his only shot to make things right for once in his life. 
“Mary!” Sam’s voice echoed through the air, eyes focused on the frame of (y/n)’s sister. The young woman flung herself into Sam’s open arms, chuckling into his neck as he held her close for a moment. A moment too long for Dean who was growing more antsy with every passing second. 
“Thank you for coming. She’s making a mistake, Sam. You’re my only hope with this.” The words left Dean frozen, confused eyes flickering between his brother and Mary. He hadn’t read the email Mary had sent to Sam, hadn’t asked any further questions about the man (y/n) was about to marry, trusting that he was somebody she loved. “Come, I’ll bring you to her.”
“What the fuck man?” Dean growled the words at Sam as he followed them through the crowd and towards a small house built near the church. Sam fell into pace with his brother, watching Mary lead them towards the place where (y/n) was currently getting ready. 
“Well, you didn’t think I’d let you do this without knowing (y/n) would willingly leave her fiancé, did you? I wouldn’t destroy her happiness just like that, Dean.” Realistically, Dean should have known that Sam wouldn’t just push him into this without knowing that there was a chance to get her back. Sam had hated him for a while after he had left (y/n), punishing Dean for breaking her heart at any given chance, a broken bond that had needed months to be repaired. 
“(Y/n)? I brought two special guests.” Mary’s voice echoed through the small cabin, ringing in the brother’s ears as they waited outside. Dean felt his hands tremble, forced to let go of deep exhales as Mary opened the door for them, allowing them to step inside. His eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s like a moth to a flame, and his world stopped spinning, unable to focus on anything but her.
It took (y/n) a second to react, seemingly confused about the appearance of the two hunters she hadn’t seen in years. She was pulled into a hug by Sam, giving Dean another moment to admire her, the white dress she wore – a sight he had only seen in his dreams, imagining this very day, with him waiting at the altar for her. Dreams that had evaporated into a hazy nothingness the day he had left her. 
“Hi, sweetheart.” She sank into Dean’s grasp, clinging to him as if he hadn’t been the man who had broken her heart all these years ago. He watched his brother and Mary leave the cabin, giving the two some time alone as they kept on holding one another. 
“What are you doing here, Dean?” (Y/n) mumbled the words against the fabric of his suit jacket, not caring about smudging her make-up, not caring about anything but the way Dean held her close – as if he hadn’t ever stopped holding her. Carefully, Dean let her go, needing to give them some distance for the words he was about to speak, knowing that this could escalate any moment now. 
“I can’t let you marry another man without telling you that leaving you was my greatest mistake. A life without you has always been my biggest fear, I was stupid, so fucking stupid, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have listened to Dad, I should have married you right that day. And I hate myself for not doing it, for letting you go when you have always been my whole world. I know there is no chance for me to make things right, and even though Sammy and Mary hope that I will sweep you off of your feet and bring you back home to us, I know I can’t.” Tears dripped from her eyes, tears (y/n) didn’t care to wipe away. 
“I hated you for years, you broke me, Dean. You took away my life, my friends, the people I had grown to love. You ripped my heart right out of my chest, and even though I tried to fight for it, to regain its strength, I miserably failed. I should curse you, should tell you to fuck off and never show your face to me again. But I can’t. For Christ’s sake, Dean. What are we doing here?” He cupped her face with shaking fingers, letting his forest-green eyes run over her gorgeous face. 
“I want to kill him for getting a chance to love you, time that has been wasted because of me. But I don’t want to take another choice from you. If you want to marry him, I will watch from the first row, hell, I’ll even carry your veil.” His voice shook as he whispered the words, growing tense as (y/n) rested her hands on top of his, still cupping her cheeks.
“And if I don’t want to marry him?” 
……
I'm scared to take another picture of you, 'cause I'm scared to have another thing that I can lose, oh, dear, who am I without you here?
“I thought you were taking me home, where are we going?” Her laughter echoed through Baby, eyes set on Dean’s grinning features. They had left the church a while ago, running away like she had secretly hoped they would. (Y/n) had always been a dreamer, a dreamer who had pictured that very moment since the day it had dawned on her – about to marry a man she didn’t love. A man who wasn’t Dean Winchester. 
“We’ve got another thing to take care of first, I am not losing any more time.” Baby screeched to a halt in front of a pink church, a sight that left (y/n) confused, and Dean and Sam chuckling. They made their way into the church, with her fingers interlaced with Dean’s, with her white wedding gown clinging to her frame, with his suit hugging his frame. 
“Dean, Sam, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you two around here!” An elderly man greeted them with a big smile. His brown eyes were drawn to (y/n)’s almost instantly, with a knowing smile growing on his lips – a smile that had an almost proud touch to it. “That’s her, huh? Took you quite some time, didn’t it.” “(Y/n), that’s Danny, an old friend of ours we met on a hunt. He could wed us, with Sammy as our witness, if you’ll have me.” Her heart had stopped beating, skipping a few beats as Dean’s words sank in. Her teary eyes found his and with a laugh clawing through her, she pressed a kiss to his lips, drawing a groan out of Dean, who tried to prolong the kiss for as long as possible. 
“I will always have you, Dean.” She was pulled towards the altar, unable to stop her tears from dripping as Danny began speaking a prayer she paid no attention to. All (y/n) could do was study Dean, the love swimming in his pupils, the way he looked at her as if she was his sun, alighting the darkest days with her mere presence. A soul crafted for his to hold onto, to love till their time together would eventually run out. 
“Do you have any rings?” Danny’s soft voice ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, about to whisper a soft, disappointed “No”, but before she could even part her lips, Sam excitedly spoke up. Her eyes watched the tall Winchester brother, how he reached for his breast pocket to expose a small envelope to her glassy eyes. Wordlessly he pushed it towards Dean, who opened it with an unwavering smile stuck to his lips. 
“I bought these rings years ago, sure to eventually push yours down on your finger. I am sorry it took me this long.” Her sob left Dean chuckling, exposing his also teary eyes to hers. She had held onto all these longings for years, mere dreams that were now finally turning real – as if she was just sleeping through another longing. 
But, you're here, now, and that makes it better, somehow
……
“Let me.” Dean’s soft voice filled his bedroom. He was standing behind (y/n), carefully helping her out of her wedding dress with his gaze focused on the ring clinging to his finger. The past hours had flown by all too quickly, turning her from a runaway bride into his wife. His wife. A title so unfamiliar, Dean had to fight against the urge to pinch himself.
His for eternity. His to love. His to worship. 
“I love you, Dean.” (Y/n) whispered her words as she stepped out of her dress, exposing her underwear-clad frame to his hungry eyes. She was pulled into a teeth-chasing kiss, a kiss dripping with emotions that made her feel all too dizzy, having to hold onto Dean before she could be ripped into another dimension. 
“I love you too, sweetheart. And I’m so fucking sorry for missing out on this for years.” He pressed her down on the mattress, giving her a show as he slowly undressed. Her body was aching for him, needing to feel Dean close after all these long years apart. 
“Stop apologising with words and show me that you truly mean them.” His lips kissed her chest, the valley between her breasts as he undid her bra, exposing her hardening nipples to his twinkling eyes. Dean could cum just from the sight of her naked frame, a sight he had only seen in his dreams for the past years, not daring to imagine being this fortunate again. 
“God, you’re so beautiful. I promise to worship you for as long as you want me to.” Dean’s raspy words vibrated on her skin, covering her body with goosebumps as he kneaded her soft flesh. His cock was pressed against her clothed heat, drawing moans from her whenever he moved against her heat, desperate for the kind of friction that left them both trembling.
“I need you inside of me, Dean.” Her raspy whispers left him groaning against her skin as she raised her hips to help him pull her damp panties down her legs. Just this morning, (y/n) had imagined this very moment, knowing that she’d think of Dean when her husband touched her, a loveless marriage she would have been trapped in. 
“Are you still on birth control?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, mind taken up by the feeling of his wandering hands, keeping her pressed against him. Dean's cock twitched against her naked cunt, brushing through her arousal-covered folds to coat himself, “I love you, and I’ll do my best to prove it to you for the rest of our lives.”
“I love you too, Dean.” He pushed into her with a groan, forehead falling against hers as she fluttered around him. It felt as if he had entered paradise, falling to rest on clouds covering his body. She was his Elysium, his safe haven, the one where Dean could be the truest version of himself. 
He moved slowly at first, both needed some time to adjust to one another after all these years, but the second their bodies relaxed, properly enjoying one another’s closeness, Dean began to move faster. Their bodies met with every thrust, eyes holding a contact so intense, (y/n) feared her heart would explode right in her chest. 
Dean was taking his time with her, this wasn’t a rushed fuck to make up for all the time lost, no, it was so much more. This was the purest form of love, a one-of-a-kind love both had clung to in lonely nights, with wandering minds and trembling hands. This is what they had been destined to have, years ago – a love they were now rediscovering. 
“You feel so good, baby.” He felt her clenching around his cock, drawing another gritty sound out of Dean. (Y/n) was long gone, pushed into another dimension where she only knew Dean, nothing but his love, his touch, his irrevocable longing for her. Sensations she was taken hostage by, unable to shake them. 
His warm fingertips found her pulsing bundle, circling it with just enough pressure to draw his name out of her. (Y/n) could feel her orgasm slithering its way up her body, whispering to her to hold onto her husband, and with her fingernails clawed into Dean’s shoulders, she came. He followed her right down the edge, moaning against her lips as their bodies were moulded together. 
“Fuck, we’ll have to do that all through the night, husband.” (Y/n) whispered the words as a few heavy pants left her, making a laugh claw out of Dean who chased her slightly swollen lips for another kiss. 
“Trust me, I won’t let you leave our bed for weeks, wife.” 
Don't know how the broken pieces fit together if you leave it, so, don't go, don't go, I would take your hand if I could reach it
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astrayas · 2 days
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Moody
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Pairing: Choso x fem reader
Summary: Your tense relationship with Choso comes to a head.
Warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal sex, bickering acquaintances to lovers
18+!
Ao3 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
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“This sucks.”
You sit up and scowl at the source of that complaint: Kamo Choso, a mysterious man straddling the line between curse and human. 
Today’s mission saw you hauling yourselves out to a shrine in the wilderness, where local rumors of a ghost haunting the surrounding forest spawned a particularly disturbing curse. And it didn’t go down without a long, tough fight, as the burning scratches on your arm attest. They pulse with every furious thump of your heart when you begrudgingly regard your partner.
With thick, black hair, deep eyes, and a finely tuned physique, Choso’s an undeniably handsome man, but a moody bastard nonetheless. A complainer. He’s done nothing but complain since you met him, which was when he first started taking Yuji’s place on missions with you for a reason only he considers good:
He doesn’t trust you.
You shoot him an irritated look. A muscle feathers in his sharp jaw as he stares right back. Dark, sleepy eyes lock onto you, assessing you, judging you. Again.
“Oh, you’re not having fun?” you toss back with mock surprise, narrowing your eyes. “Here I was thinking you liked these missions, considering how often you volunteer for them. How many times have you ‘saved’ Yuji from me now? Four? Five?”
“Doesn’t matter how many. It’s not enough,” he snarls. “And it won’t be enough until you prove you can keep him safe in a fight.”
Your chest tightens, and you glance at the zipper on your tent. You’re going to need some fresh air soon. At this point, his caution with you is just insulting. And considering what he’s seen you’re capable of already, considering the fact that you’ve kept him safe plenty of times, it even…hurts.
“You know, it’s the strangest thing. You don’t take precautions like this with other sorcerers. Sorcerers you know half as well as me,” you spit. You wiggle out of your sleeping bag with a wince and sit up straight. 
And because you know it’ll hurt, because he hurt you first, you twist the knife permanently buried in his side. 
“So are you sure you’re doing such a good job protecting Yuji?”
And like that knife just wedged itself a little deeper, he jerks back and grimaces.
“Watch yourself,” he seethes. He scrambles to his feet and follows right behind you as you burst out of the tent. “Don’t you ever question my devotion to my little brother. You have no fucking clue—”
“What your bond is like,” you finish for him. You’ve already heard this a million times. “Spare me the speech tonight, Choso. I’m…I’m tired.”
Your shoulders rise and fall against the weight of a heavy sigh. The higher-ups had warned you this mission would probably take all day, and they were right. It was well past sundown by the time you exorcised that curse. With your injury fresh and your energy depleted, you simply didn’t have the strength to walk back to the car parked miles away tonight. So once you found a decent clearing in the woods about halfway back, you pulled out the flimsy tent you’d packed—just in case—and started setting it up. 
Until Choso snatched the kit from you and just did the whole thing himself, at least.
You cross your arms, taking care to mind your bandages, and scan the area around you. Under better circumstances, with better company, this might not have been so bad. The weather is mild, the setting serene. Amidst the towering trees and twinkling, cloudless sky, only the crickets and the wind puncture the silence. It’s a nice night for stargazing.
But the circumstances are less than ideal, your stinging arm reminds you. And the company…
You’re already frowning by the time you turn to Choso, who’s glaring at you with his lips pushed out in a pout, hovering around you like a fly. You’re about ready to swat him like one, at least. You won’t be able to sleep with him just…watching you like this. Sizing you up. Hating you.
“Aren’t you tired?” you groan.
“No,” he sniffs.
“Liar. You just can’t fall asleep until I do, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, fuck you.”
“Fuck you back.”
You throw your arms into the air in frustration, rage, desperation, anything that might communicate how you’re feeling with him. But you throw them up with so much force that they fall right back down, leaving you hissing and wincing at your furious scratches.
Choso starts, one hand shooting out to grab your wrist while the other checks your bandage.
“Hey. Be careful, would you?” he grumbles. “That curse got you good tonight.”
You watch him with wide eyes as he inspects you. Was that…concern? 
“It’s not that bad,” you mutter. 
Really, it’s not. You only needed bandages, not stitches. And Choso certainly doesn’t need to be fussing with that tiny edge of cloth falling loose. You try to pull your arm back, but you only manage to drag him along with it. He huffs and mumbles a string of grievances you can’t make out while he tucks that loose piece under another.
“I mean it,” you insist, shaking your arm. He doesn’t relent. 
“Hold still,” he demands. “God, you never take your injuries seriously. If you can’t even take care of yourself tonight, then I’ll clearly have to do it for you.”
You sigh and tap your foot while he finishes up. 
“Come on,” you mutter. “Just because I’m not losing my mind over a few scratches, you think I’d let Yuji get hurt?”
He stands up straight again and regards you with one brow raised and his head cocked to the side. 
“Huh? What does Yuji have to do with—”
Choso chokes on the second half of his sentence, and his eyes shoot open. He clears his throat and takes a step back, staring up at the sky, before he restarts.
“...Yes. Yeah. Exactly. Learn to tend to your own wounds, then maybe I could trust you to have Yuji’s back.”
You watch him as he very pointedly avoids watching you, his neck craned back, his wide eyes glued to the stars. You swear you can see his throat bob before he crosses his arms tight over his chest. He doesn’t say anything else.
And neither do you. You’re too busy trying to identify the feeling bubbling in your stomach as you study the way his features catch the moonlight. There’s no way you’re seeing him correctly. Because if you are…then he’s blushing right now.
And if the warmth rising in your cheeks is any indication, so are you.
You force yourself to turn away and stare at the stars, too, desperate to push down that confusing feeling, as both of you stand there in an eternity’s worth of silence.
But eternity passes. And then it gets worse.
“...I hate camping,” Choso gripes.
Your eye twitches.
That’s it.
“Well damn, Choso, I wish you’d told me that before I packed up the tent!” you holler, throwing your head back, ready to scream at the starry sky. “Because out here, next to this reclusive shrine 20 miles from the city, I was actually planning to book us a 5-star hotel!”
Choso smacks a palm against his forehead and sighs. “Wait. No. I didn’t mean that like—”
“But I thought you loved camping!” You wave your bandaged arm in front of him. “I thought you loved exorcising curses and sleeping in the dirt!”
“I misspoke! I was trying to—”
“I. Thought. You. LOVED. Sharing a cramped tent with the sorcerer you hate most!”
“Would you stop?” he barks, turning to face you, his nose scrunched and his eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, okay?! I worded that badly! I was trying to…to relate to you. Sympathize with you. I know you’re not having fun, either.”
“...Huh?”
You stop and face him in turn. That storm inside you still rages, but the winds have hushed some. You’re quiet as you try to make sense of whatever storm of his own seems to be brewing in his eyes, especially as it contradicts his follow-up, spoken in a low, hushed voice.
“And I don’t…hate you. I’ve never hated you.”
You roll your eyes and huff out a laugh. “Ha! I didn’t know you could tell jokes.”
“I mean it,” he grumbles. He pushes some dirt around with his shoe. “If I really couldn’t stand you, you know, I never would’ve even bothered going on these missions in Yuji’s place. I’d have just found a way to keep you from getting paired up.”
“So, what?” you push, ignoring the uptick in your heart rate. “What does that change, really, if you still feel strongly enough to invite yourself here and judge and assess and berate me?”
Another pause sticks to the air. Choso’s brows furrow when he finally answers.
“Is that really how I come off?” he murmurs, his words low, hesitant. “Like I’m berating you?”
“Well, yeah…” you say. You cross your arms tighter around yourself against a chilly breeze. “Especially tonight. Thought you were gonna bite my ear off when you were wrapping up my arm.” You look down at it and pull it behind yourself. “Which I didn’t ask you to do, by the way.”
“Well, I wasn’t gonna let you just try to walk it off without at least disinfecting it.”
“Like I was gonna do that, either?!”
“Hell, you might have! You were more interested in setting up the tent. I mean, come on. What ridiculous priorities when your arm was—”
“There!” you bark, pointing a shaming finger directly at him. “There’s the berating! Right there!”
Again, Choso pauses. His lips knit themselves into a straight line, and he takes a deep breath as his eyes travel back to your arm. But this time, his gaze isn’t quite so sharp. It’s softened considerably, in fact, as it scans the edges of your bandages, his expression full of a tenderness you’re not sure you’ve ever seen from him before.
“Oh…” he mutters. “I hear it now.”
“Finally,” you grunt.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hmph.”
He raises his arms above his head in a big stretch before he starts inching back to the tent.
“I’ll…I’ll be more mindful of my wording in the future,” he continues. You regard him with a side eye. Going back to the tent doesn’t require shuffling so close to you. “I just…I worry.”
Another grunt and an eye roll from you.
“As probably the only sorcerer whose company I don’t mind…” 
You cock your head to the side and regard him fully. He’s never mentioned that before. And there’s that damn fluttering in your chest…
“…It’s important to me that you’re safe.”
Choso could be forgiven for thinking your lack of a response is simply more of the silent treatment you’ve started meting out tonight. Truly, though, as he casts one last, careful look at you before retiring to the tent, you realize that you simply…don’t know what to say.
You huff and hum and haw and stare straight up at the sky again, which has started to cloud. You tap your foot furiously against the soft dirt and let your thoughts run.
He wants you safe.
He bandaged your arm for you. He did it well.
He set up the tent without a word, insisting you shouldn’t do it with your injury. He did that well, too.
He takes Yuji’s place on these missions because…he worries for you.
…He wants you safe.
 Your eye twitches again.
And you spin around, stomping back to the tent with unrighteous fury, your lack of grace as you yank the zipper open alerting an already sleeping Choso to a new disturbance. He jerks upright, eyes bleary and half-closed, shooting open when they register you standing before him. You speak before he even opens his mouth.
“You like me,” you declare. You pull the zipper closed again.
He blinks a few times and clears his throat.
“...Yes,” he confirms. He rubs one eye and sits up a little straighter. You take a step closer to him.
“You like like me.”
He regards you with a smirk, a quick eye roll that communicates his indifference, despite the confession.
“That’s right.”
“You like me so much you go on missions with me not for Yuji’s sake, but for mine.”
Choso’s shoulders slump as he visibly accepts his fate. Not that he seems too bothered about it. Ugh. How annoying.
“Right again,” he mumbles, fighting a yawn, scratching his head.
Your limbs move without any input from your brain. They guide you of their own accord until you’re standing over him. He looks up at you, a little more of his attention focused. 
And certainly, certainly, your brain had nothing to do with your decision to not only stare him down, but to crouch until your legs meet the flimsy tent floor, straddled on either side of him. Choso, now fully and undeniably focused on you, fixes his eyes to yours and sits up straight again. Your breaths fight for space as you face each other, silent…
…And he dares to rest a hand on your thigh.
You jolt as some of your thinking brain comes back online, and you glance down at his hand. But you don’t move it. You only lean forward, letting your hips sink more fully against his. A breath hitches in his chest.
“You’ve been putting yourself in a lot of unnecessary danger for a crush,” you scold.
“I know,” he simply answers. His other hand rises to your face.
“Not to mention the stress you’ve been putting me through.”
“I know.” He pushes your hair behind your ear.
“You’ve been a real pain in the ass, honestly.”
“I know.” He hooks a finger under your chin and draws you in.
“Fuck you.”
“Please.”
And finally…his facade shatters. Beneath that moody mask lie glazed eyes and parted lips, flushing cheeks, shaking, hungry hands. Ready and waiting for your touch. Begging for it. 
And you, tired and irritated and irate with the aching desire you feel for that pain in your ass, find that you have no choice but to oblige.
When you lean in to kiss him, you don’t travel far. He’s already pulled you halfway there. He’s eager to meet you all the same, wrapping his arms around you and dragging you back onto the floor with him, pulling your chest into his as his lips capture yours and coax them open. His tongue is like silk as it travels the shallows and deeper corners of your mouth with precision, eventually meeting your own tongue with a greeting far friendlier than your mingling breaths shared earlier. 
And as your lips lock and mesh and acquaint themselves, the rest of your body follows suit. Heat builds in your throat and shoots down to your stomach, where it simmers and boils over into your core, which smolders ever hotter and forces you to grind against his hips in search of relief.
And whether due to your rage or this roiling heat or some combination of both, you feel no need for formalities before you paw at each other’s clothing. After you manage to remove most of them in a messy tangle, Choso stares up at you with reverence, desire, longing in his dark, sleepy eyes. 
And you realize you quite like seeing him like this. 
You lean down and closer to him, silently asking him to tell you how he feels. A sigh of adoration falls from him, which is the only pause he takes before he makes quick and easy work of your bra and tosses it somewhere to the side. 
And that marks the start of a conversation you could never share with simple words.
You close your eyes with a pleased groan when his calloused palms travel a careful path across your chest. They circle your breasts and massage them gently, thanking them profusely for the invitation. Your back arcs and your hands run through that disheveled black hair, giving it the slightest tug, asking his mouth to join. 
One of his hands lingers to keep mingling with your left breast as his lips brush past your collarbone and introduce themselves to the right, kissing around your nipple before drawing it into his mouth. His tongue circles it, flicks across it, lavishes it with attention.
The sensation drives the clouds inside you to gather and rumble, forming forceful winds that push your hips down and pull a needy mewl from your lungs. Choso’s fingers tense around your skin, as if to answer you, before he properly responds with a desperate, jagged whimper accompanying the jerk of his hips beneath you.
A plea that makes you smile.
You push yourself up only far enough to pull his underwear down and let his cock, already twitching and dripping, spring up. Nervous flutters overtake your stomach as you stroke it, appreciating its considerable length and girth, its warmth, every ridge and vein adorning it, nearly losing yourself in your study before Choso pulls you back with a barely audible whisper:
“Please.”
Your smile twists into something sinful.
“Please?” you purr, stroking him faster, gripping him tighter, relishing his ardent moans. “Please, what?”
“Let me…feel you,” he chokes out. “All of you.”
“All of me, huh?”
You let him go to rub yourself against him, your slick core gliding across him with such ease as your hips buck back and forth. His eyes widen, his lips fall open, praying for manna, for satiety. 
And as if he only just noticed he’d forgotten an offering, he finishes his request.
“And you’ll get all of me, too,” he entreats you, his flushed cheeks nearly glowing in the dim light. “No more bullshit, no more acts. I want to see you because I want to see you. Not because you need your hand held, not because I think you can’t watch someone else’s back. Because you’re always on my mind, and I’m tired of pretending you’re not.”
And as his prayer falls from his lips, as you hear the words you didn’t know you’d wanted from him for so long, your heart swells with new heat. With fresh feelings you’d denied yourself until now.
“Alright, it’s a deal,” you answer, lining him up with your entrance. “No more acts.”
But just before you lower yourself onto him, he holds you steady by the waist, glancing at your bandages again. 
“Your arm—”
“Is fine,” you reassure him. You hook a finger under his chin and guide his gaze back to your face. It makes it there, eventually, after a couple stops at your hips and chest. 
“All of me,” you remind him, holding his cock in place while you hover over it. He obeys, his eyes traveling over your body with zealous fervor, his hands grasping your hips tightly enough to keep you tethered to him.
You lower yourself onto him slowly, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head as he fills you up and stretches you out. He lets out a deep groan, his hands tensing around your hips before they make their pilgrimage past your waist and to your breasts.
The moment you adjust to his size, you swivel your hips and grind into him, trying a few different angles to hit that perfect spot. When you lean forward and rest a palm on his chest for balance, you feel that divine pleasure start to rise within you.
You release a wanton sigh. There it is. Paradise waiting.
You tuck your feet under his legs as well as you can to anchor yourself at that angle, bouncing at a sudden speed that has him hissing and grunting and clenching his teeth. He closes his eyes and lets you push your palms into his chest as you grind, swivel, clench around him.
And what a perfect angle it truly is. But your arm, which you’d kept anchored to the floor as you bounced up and down, begins to burn. It’s enough to put a gap in your rhythm and yank you back from those pearly gates. You scowl at it, cursing it for betraying you, right when you were getting so close. 
Choso, the devoted admirer he is, notices the problem immediately. And he doesn’t waste a moment fixing it.
“For fuck's sake,” he growls. “Your arm is hurt. Let me spare you some work.”
He doesn’t wait for you to protest before he lifts you off his lap and rolls you onto your back. He hovers over you, his arms forming a cage around you that you don’t want to escape. You let out a surprised gasp, but the rest of your body flows naturally with his: your hands run up and down his back. Your legs part. The moment he pushes back in, they wrap around his waist, demanding his full and unyielding adoration all over again. Now that you know the fullness, the satisfaction that comes from his ultimate show of devotion, you may very well need it now.
And he offers it freely. Fervent praise tumbles from his lips to your ears, every word exalting the softness of your skin, the melody in your moans, the divinity of your hips and waist and thighs. He’s worshiping you, truly worshiping you, as his hips slam into yours and his lips lavish your neck and his teeth graze your throat. And you have to wonder…
“How long…” you pant, “...have you wanted this? How long have you wanted me like this?”
“From day fucking one,” he forces out. His feverish rhythm never yields. His cock drags itself across your walls over and over, hitting every sacred spot, bringing heaven back within your reach. “From the moment I first met you…and found any excuse to go on that mission in Yuji’s place.”
You can’t help but snicker between labored breaths. You remember that first day. He did a masterful job pretending he just couldn’t trust you. Now, knowing the context, it’s almost a little—
“Funny, right?” he chuckles. He lifts his head, his deep eyes full of fealty as they lock with yours. “Or closer to pathetic, I guess.”
“Hey. I never said that,” you pout. 
“It’s a little pathetic,” he insists. “In hindsight, I could’ve just…asked you on a date.”
“Ask me when we get home,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs tighten around him, too, as do your walls around his cock, signaling just how close you are to elysium in his arms. “Then I’ll forgive you.”
“How merciful,” he teases, but the urgency in his eyes tells you he felt you fluttering around him. And that tells you, in turn, that he’s close to breaking, too.
So you both let your words fall to the wayside, letting your groans and moans and kisses and whimpers speak for you. He plunges into you without relent, granting you pleasure that just keeps building. What an irreplaceable type of pleasure, too: the way he feels inside you, the utter satisfaction, the completeness, the perfect, impeccable fit.
And finally, you fall into paradise, a vision so sweet it blinds you. Your eyes screw themselves shut as each euphoric wave overtakes you, your beatific cries washing over the silent night and your fingers digging into his skin. And it’s not long before he follows suit, his own climax undeniable among his hissing and cursing and jerking hips.
Both of you lie together in a silence that’s anything but; your heavy breaths and satisfied sighs and lingering moans fill the tent with plenty of noise, capped by his single groan as he rolls off of you. But he doesn’t leave you, not truly. His arms are still wrapped around you. He’s still got a leg tangled with yours. Like he’s not ready to let you go. Like he never will be.
Once you catch your breath, your exhaustion finally hits you in full force. Your eyes are already closing, the fingers you’d had caressing his cheek slowing to a stop when you decide to tease him one more time.
“It’s almost a shame,” you murmur. “Now you don’t have an excuse to wedge yourself into my missions.”
“Who said I would stop doing that?” he huffs. “Somebody has to look after those injuries.”
You stifle a laugh as he buries his face in your neck and pulls you in closer. Moody bastard.
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yrluvjane · 1 day
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hi gorgeous i hope you’re having a wonderful day!!
Can i please get a james x fem reader where it’s her birthday and she’s feeling down and like she’s getting old ( i turned 22 today and i wanna SCREAM) and ofc james is having non of that and just lots of hurt/comfort/fluff please
Happy Belated Birthday, hun! (I'm turning 21 in a few months) And I relate to this so much as someone who was forced to uphold too much expectations at a very young age, I had this problem ever since I was sixteen and I think about in a really cursed way - always ends up with me crying. Don't forget to enjoy it! You shouldn't be feeling down about it, because 22 is still very young! I'm sure James would tell you this too lol :)
You're feeling sorry for yourself, a little blue, your mind filled with thoughts of aging and loss. It's your birthday and you can't help but feel like time is slipping away from you. You've missed out on so much, and you don't know what the future has for you. You sigh, letting your head fall back against the wall. "I'm getting old," you mutter to yourself. "What am I even doing with my life?"
James walks into the large room, his eyes scanning the crowd for you. He spots you in the corner, near the snack table, looking a little downcast in the midst of all the joy and laughter. He makes his way over to where you're seated, a small box in his hand.
As he approaches, you look up to see James, looking as handsome as always, carrying a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
"Happy birthday, love of my life," he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.
You smile weakly, feeling a warm ache in your chest at the sight of him. "Thanks, James. That means a lot." Even then he frowns, noticing the sadness in your eyes. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
At your silence, he leans closer, pulling you into the hall, away from prying eyes and having you sit at a small bench. "You know you can tell me anything." his fingers push back your hair, tucking the small strands behind your ear.
You shake your head, looking up at him with a small frown on your face. "It's just…I thought I'd be excited for my birthday, but I feel like I'm already too old to be having fun like this."
James takes a seat next to you, placing a hand gently on your shoulder. "Nonsense. You're never too old to enjoy the things that make you happy," he says, his voice dripping with kindness. "Plus, isn't today all about celebration? You should be enjoying yourself."
You sigh, feeling slightly comforted by James' words. "I know. It's just…I miss the simpler days, you know? Back when we were students, and life wasn't so complicated."
James nods, understanding your sentiment. "I get it," he says, his eyes soft and filled with so much love and understanding it has you speechless. "But those days are gone, and we have to make the best of what we have now. If you live too much in the past, you'll won't have the time to live in the present. Here."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, handing it to you with a small smile. "Happy birthday, Love. I hope this makes your day a little brighter."
You open the box, a small smile flickering across your face as you pull out a beautiful, delicate gold necklace with a disc pendant . "James, it's…It's perfect," you say, your voice cracking slightly.
"Turn it over."
Your initials and James' are engraved on it, along with a date. James looks up at you curiously, his head on your shoulder.
He pulls away, looking into your eyes with a mix of tenderness and playfulness. "So, can you guess when this was?" he asks, his voice gentle.
You think for a moment, trying to decipher the date. Suddenly, it clicks. You smile, the answer coming to you immediately. "Our first Christmas, our first kiss." you say, your voice full of joy. James chuckles, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "That's right, Love," he says, his voice full of affection. "I wanted to give you something special to remember our special day by."
You place a hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the softness of his hair beneath your palm. "I love you," you say, your voice full of feeling. You lean in and give James a kiss.
He kisses you again, his lips soft and tender against yours. "I love you too," he replies, his voice full of affection. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling with happiness as he notices the lift in your mood. "Now, let's forget about the past and focus on the present, shall we? Let's celebrate your birthday together, just the two of us."
You smile and lean into James' comforting embrace. "I'd like that," you say, your voice quivering slightly. "Very much."
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HII can u write a fic or blurb about lando with a west asian girlfriend?? like him obsessing over her hair and features, learning about her culture and stuff, tysm ily!!
+ I think I typed down west Asian in my ask but I meant east 😭😭 if I said it correctly ignore this pls🙏🙏
Note: it's okay! No worries 🫶
"You're so beautiful, Y/N", Lando said as he brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling at the way it cascaded and smoothly guided down his finger.
"Stop it", you blushed, trying to hide your face on his naked chest, suddenly feeling shy as you heard his compliments despite what you had just done.
"But you are!", he argued, "your hair is so soft, your cheeks are one of my favourite places to kiss your face, but these lips are my favourite one", he kissed you, "and I love nuzzling my face on your neck because I get to kiss all the way from your jaw to your cheekbones", he did as he said, moving slightly to accommodate your bodies.
"You're handsome too", you smiled, kissing all over his face and tracing an invisible line to connect his freckles and moles.
"Not as beautiful as you, though", he tsked, smiling before kissing your lips.
.
"Baby, I have a surprise for you!", Lando said as he heard you come back home from work, "close your eyes!", he said as he stopped you in the hallway, not wanting you to go into the living room on your own.
"Oh, this sounds fancy!", you smiled, kissing his lips in a small greeting before closing your eyes, "lead the way and make sure I don't bump into anything, please", you giggled as he took your hands in his.
"So, you know how you broke the bowls last week? And the mug a couple of weeks ago", he began and he could see the blood rushing to your cheeks.
"I didn't do it on purpose, and I went to the shop to get new ones, but the lady said their next order is only arriving later this week!", you reasoned.
"I know you didn't, beautiful", he said softly, "anyway, I thought this week's date night could be at home instead and we could do Kintsugi", he sounded unsure of the pronunciation but he still went with it as you opened your eyes, seeing bags of broken ceramic on your dining table along with other supplies, "I saved the pieces that broke because I wanted to do this since I saw those kits in the shop we usually go to", he smiled.
"I thought you just didn't want me to get hurt", you squeezed his hands as you looked at the set up.
"Yes, that's partially true, but I've also wanted to save it because I thought we could do this - and I didn't feel like going out tonight because I wanted you all to myself and I think we have enough pieces to keep us busy - thanks to your butter fingers", he joked.
"Hey!", you pulled on his ear, "it's not like I wanted to drop them - those bowls are my favourites! Your mother got them for my birthday!", you added.
"Let's give them a new look then, shall we?", he said, "but you'll have to teach me how your grandmother taught you to do it because I'm only so good with craft work like this", he smiled, kissing the top of your head before you got ready for a hands on date night idea.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
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guiusse · 10 hours
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blondie - marc guiu
warnings: none that i know of, some curse words
ik i said id never write ab blonde marc guys cuz it physically hurts me but i tried anyways !! this one took suchhh a looong time but i hope u guys like it.
are you fkin insane? you texted marc immediately upon seeing the story of him proudly getting a buzzcut. one thing you've always liked about him was his fluffy hair, the way it bounced perfectly whenever he ran, the softness it had when you'd run your hands through it, the honey like color that you always told him you wish your kids would inherit and the way it just made him ten times hotter than he already was.
"absolutely mental." you exclaimed as soon as he walked into the bedroom, showing off his new hair with a smug smile. you stood up, looking up at him and touching the now buzzed and bleached hair. "i want to strangle you, can i strangle you?"
he laughed, giving you a side to side view of his hair. "you like?" he smirked, chuckling when you shook your head no. "i like? no marc, i'm going insane. just who in hell told you to do this?"
"i look handsome, no?" he said, his thick spanish accent lingering as he spoke, "you better hope your hair grows fast." you said in a jokingly threatening way.
"oh c'mon, does it really not suit me?" he groaned, holding your waist as you touched his head. "everything suits you, unfortunately." he still looked hot, he always does. this was just such a big change that you couldn't physically comprehend it.
"so you like it?" he smiled, leaving light kisses on your neck. "i don't hate it."
"i was going to put your name in red dye, show off who my girlfriend is" he said, pulling away from your neck a little, "horrendous idea. do that and i'll murder you, blondie."
oh boy, you sure slept that night - with marc, laying his head on your chest, his new buzz being ticklish on your face - hoping that his hair grew fast. just how long till you see brunette marc again?
𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔲𝔰𝔰𝔢 '24.
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hiskillingjar · 1 day
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just a doll on a string
Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Vaginal Sex, Intercrural Sex, Drugging, Dollification, Blood, Light Bondage, Vomit Mention Length: 2300+ words
a very kind request from @woofykill, thank you so much, angel!
my fic commissions are open, so if you want a fic of your own, enquire within!
"Huaah..."
You let out an unsteady moan as the sharp needle slid out of your arm, a bead of blood oozing out of the pinprick in your skin.
You didn’t know the name of the drug now pumping through your system, but you knew that it was probably (definitely) the reason you were immediately feeling dazed and confused, and your brain was feeling hot.
Unable to think of words to say (would you even have any, if you could?), your heavily made-up eyes, skin coated, painted with smeared eyeliner and black kohl, peered up towards Fox as he set the empty syringe down on his desk and approached you slowly, the heels of his shoes tapping metallic *clangs* on the filming room floor.
"There we go, that's it," Fox crooned, his voice low and horribly comforting as he swept a hand through your dark hair and urged your hazy eyes upwards, the handsome crease at the corner of his own crinkling with fondness and lust. "That's a good girl. You’re responding perfectly, darling. It feels good, doesn't it? I made sure that it would…"
"Mm," You moaned softly, keening up to his touch and pulling at your handcuffs (the same that bound your ankles together underneath your thighs). They were the soft ones, pink leather with padded, lined interiors. They were there to restrain you, to keep you still, not to hurt you. "You...ahh, you didn't need to…to drug me..."
"Ah, but I wanted to, sweetheart," He replied with a sharp titter (his practised laugh, the laugh of a showman), his clawed fingers idly tracing down your heavily blushed cheeks and over your full lips. "It's just so nice seeing you so docile for me...so dreamy, so lost...like I could do anything I wanted to you and you wouldn’t have the energy to stop me. It's really too adorable. How could I possibly stop myself?"
Your lips parted obediently (mechanically, like you didn’t have control over the gesture) for his fingers and, satisfied that you had done what he wanted, he pressed them down against your pierced tongue. His golden eyes were practically gleaming as you drooled messily down them, down his palm, down his wrist, letting saliva and spittle cover your lips, your chin, pool down and soak into the front of your white top.
"Look at you," He murmured, his voice thick with something akin to awe and lust in tandem. "So messy, my girl...I'm really going to have to get that fixed, aren't I?"
You gurgled helplessly as he pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, your dark eyes rolling back in your skull at the feeling of his sharp claws raking over your tongue and the delicate walls of your windpipe.
For whatever reason, though, the painful sensations that you should have been feeling, were expecting, were replaced by nothing more than hazy pleasure, and you could already feel cool wetness begin to soak into your panties as you gagged and spluttered around his fingers even more.
If you had the mind to, you might have felt ashamed that he had subdued you so easily, so carelessly. 
But your mind was far away now, and all you could think about was the daze of pleasure you were currently floating on.
"Yes, you're getting it now, aren't you?" Fox then added, settling down on one knee in front of you, his free hand reaching up to idly grope at your chest, fingers tracing over the semi-transparent spots where your drool was soaking in the worst, making the thin material stick to your skin and sheen through white. "You're...familiar with this drug, aren't you, sweetheart? You missed it..."
"Upfff..." You groaned, trying to press your teeth together as he forced his fingers deeper, almost deep enough to make you retch and gag.
And yet, it still felt...so good.
Mind-meltingly good, even, good enough that you had to press your thighs together to stop your cunt from throbbing so much.
"You know, if pain is making you this wet," He annunciates his point by forcing your legs apart again and pressing his knee against the wet fold of your cunt, relishing in the high whimper you let out as soon as he did so. "Imagine how good true pleasure would feel, how good it would feel to take my cock inside of you...you might just lose your mind, hm?"
Without warning, he then drew his fingers back roughly, hard enough to immediately trigger your gag reflex and force a small amount of stringy vomit from your throat and down your front.
God, even the stomach acid burning your throat felt good. 
Despite the pain, despite how much it should have been hurting, you were still moaning mindlessly and drooling like an idiot all the way down your front, your eyelids fluttering like a broken baby doll as you tried to acclimate yourself to the white-hot pleasure.
"Ahh, that won't do," He grimaced at the vomit stain with a shake of his head, wiping his fingers off on his trousers. "No no, it won't do at all. Messy girl.” He chided softly with a low ‘tut-tut’. “I'm going to have to get you redressed…you know, since you can’t look after yourself properly anymore."
As if on cue, you suddenly felt firm hands reach down to the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, unclip them with ease (he hadn’t even put in that much effort to bind you, it seemed) and wrestle the stained clothing from your lax body.
You didn’t resist in the slightest, of course, since all of your limbs were totally lax and malleable as the clothing was stripped off. 
You just hoped that you’d get redressed into something cute.
Fox simply stood in front of you and the firm hands, smiling with placid amusement as you were redressed into a tight tank top (adorned with a tacky graphic in pink and white and glitter, so different from what you’d normally wear) that clung provocatively to your full, pierced chest (clung a little too tight, your breasts were practically spilling out of the thing), and a pink, plaid skirt that wasn’t long enough to cover your backside, let alone your scarred thighs.
This was exactly the way Fox wanted you, though. 
Pliant, agreeable, and dressed like a total slut.
"Much better," He praised with a sharp grin and a nod, taking his slow steps back in front of you as your wrists and ankles were chained up once more (even tighter, forcing your chest and hips to jut forward, as if you were presenting yourself). "And you were such a good girl too, letting yourself be posed and dressed, just like a doll...such a sweet, little thing."
His fingers reached down, then, and rubbed against your now bare cunt underneath your skirt, evidently satisfied when he found it drooling with wetness by the way his ears twitched and his tail immediately began to wag.
"I think I should give you a reward for that, don't you?"
Once again, you felt the authoritative pull of firm hands on each of your bound limbs, as you were pulled up against a familiar foam wedge, your limbs widely splayed outwards in spite of your binds and your half-lidded eyes rolling up to the ceiling, to the single, swinging light bulb.
The air in the filming room was cool on your hot cunt, enough to make you tremble and your nipples swell with blood and perk up, though that was nothing compared to the amount you were trembling when Fox approached you again, unzipping his suit trousers and placing a firm hand on your spread thigh.
"Just look at you," He sighed happily, sliding a hand into his underwear (expensive, Armani or some other designer brand) and slowly jerking himself to full hardness. "A helpless little doll underneath me. Everything a man like me could want. It's difficult to resist, you know." He licked his fangs idly as he pressed the head of his cock against your slit, running it up and down and feeling your oozing wetness slick up his length. "Mmf…and I've never been very good at resisting, as you well know~"
You were unable to do anything else but lie back pliantly and tip your head back as Fox's slim hips pressed to yours and he slid his cock inside of you, almost immediately groaning at the tight clench of your kegel muscles around him.
You, at the very least, had enough of a mind to make this good for him, it seemed.
You let out a long and dreamy moan at the pulsing sensation of his cock inside of you, to which he took in a sharp hiss through his teeth as you clenched up even tighter.
He somehow pinned your body down completely with his own, keeping you still, and you relished the opportunity for him to be so close to you.
"God, your little pussy is so tight," He groaned lowly in the back of his throat, his hands on your thighs clenching as he forced himself entirely inside of you. You could feel the initial swell of his knot against your slit and your entire body ached for it to fill you completely. "You fit around me so well…like…” He gasped again, his ears tilting forward. “Like you were moulded for me.”
"Nghh..." You groaned, panting wantonly open-mouthed and tipping your head back again and again as your spine arched dramatically, the short chains of each of your cuffs jangling with each hard thrust of his hips.
"If I could do nothing but fuck you all day long, I would in a heartbeat," He was panting himself (he did have a good twenty years on you, after all, and you had enough of a mind about you to be turned on by that), his free hand reaching up to the front of the tacky tanktop you'd been forced into, groping and pawing at your breast while he fucked you like he was born to do it. "Mph...too good."
"Nfff..." You bit your lip hard to hide a delirious smile, as you felt him nibble and nip at your neck, his chest pressing to yours, his twitching ears tickling your cheek and making you giggle yourself. "Sss...hah..."
"Oh, sweet girl, you can barely even speak, can you?” He murmured with an eager grin, rubbing his face against the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, scenting you like a fox would (you would know that, if you had even half a mind about you.)  “Mm, if only you could see yourself right now, sweetheart…if you could see what I've turned you into."
"NGH!" 
The sudden flash of pain was a surprise, enough to make you bite your lip unexpectedly hard, as his sharpened claws pressed deeply into your skin, tearing the flesh and muscle of your thigh and breast, and forcing rivulets of blood to drown and paint your skin with gruesome smears of red.
"Good girl," He praised, eminently satisfied by your pained reaction, as he pressed his hips even harder against yours, like he was trying to force his swelled knot inside of you (you couldn't do it easily, after all). "Good, pretty, little doll..."
“Hurts…hah…” You gasped as your hips bucked erratically against his. “Mpffff, pleaseeee, more…”
In spite of the blood, the torn skin, the damaged muscle, the drugs pumping through your system, coursing through your bloodstream and melting down your brain, made the pain feel like burning hot, overwhelming, overstimulating pleasure, easily the best you had ever felt, enough to make your mind fuzz and blur, and your vision go white.
"Oh, that’s perfect," He growled raggedly, baring his teeth like a man starved and narrowing his eyes, as he pulled his cock from your cunt and forced your soft thighs together with a mean slap. "That's just-" He then slid his cock between them, lubing his erratic thrusts with pearly beads of pre-cum and blood. "Mff...fucking perfect."
"Fox...nghh," You mewled, gasping as the head of his cock kept grazing over and over the worst of his scratches (impossibly deep, deeper than you thought any knife could ever go), feeling like he was teasing and stimulating every nerve in your body all at once. “T-Too much, hah…”
"Mm, that's no good either," He purred villainously, grabbing your cheeks with one hand and forcing your head back to the foam wedge, digging his claws into the marred skin around your injured eye as he kept bucking against the soft flesh of your legs. "You're sounding far too coherent right now, love...what, has your cocktail worn off already?"
"Nghh..." You slurred mindlessly, your body growing tense.
"Hmph, do I need to give you another dose?" He then asked, tilting his head with a broad grin, before he lowered his face down to yours, close enough that you could feel the heat from his cheeks and his breath on your skin. "Do I need to dull your brain even more so you'll always be my dumb, little doll, hm? Is that what you need, baby?"
You could still feel how hard he was, even when he wasn’t fucking you...at least he was enjoying this as much as you were.
"God, your body is so hot right now...twisted little dolly," He let out a barking chuckle (his real laugh, the one that only you saw) and pressed his cock-head back against the worst of your cuts, forcing the skin to tear and rupture even more like he was trying to create another hole. "You like it, don't you? You like that I'm threatening you and thinking about the best way to cripple your mind...mm..."
He licked his jaws before he leaned in to scent you again, and pressed a hungry bite to your neck, lighting your body up with another electric shock of pure pleasure.
"Let's try another dose first, though..." He growled, pulling back just enough so that those firm hands could plant your shoulders still against the wedge and line the needle's point with the harsh bite mark.
"Maybe I'll have to schedule you in for a lobotomy after we're done here...at least if the drugs don't work~"
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hereforthe911buds · 9 hours
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so let's say at the wedding, Buck decides to come out to his parents before Tommy arrives. But before Tommy can get there, an emergency occurs that he can't leave. So he's later and later and later, until it's more halfway through the reception and Buck already feels like shit due to the hangover.
he sits at a table with his parents, Eddie within ear shot two tables behind them with Marisol. she goes to the bathroom, but Buck's parents are becoming more and more dismissive, to the point the comments are borderline homophobic/biphobic. Eddie can see Buck's stress level building before his eyes.
The one of his parents says "at least you're little thing doesn't have to take away from your sister's wedding." the hurt all over Buck's face, his parents disparaging what is him coming out. Eddie stands up and immediately walks towards Buck.
"Hey," Eddie reaches his hand out, "do you wanna dance?"
"w-what?" Buck studders, but Eddie doesn't wait for a response. He grabs Buck's hand and pulls him to his feet. His parents are shocked, but Eddie is guiding Buck to the dance floor. Honestly Buck feels a little relief that he doesn't have to sit with his parents any longer.
"I'm leading," Eddie orders as he places his hands on Buck's body.
"what are you doing?" Buck questions, but there is a giddyness in his voice.
"dancing with my friend," Eddie answers nonchalantly.
"you don't have to do this," Buck comments, though he doesn't know why he's so happy Eddie did.
"any excuse to give some parents the middle finger," Eddie shrugs off. Buck looks over Eddie's shoulder to his parents glaring, as if he is taking away from his sister's day. but no one else seems to care besides them. He looks back at Eddie.
"well thank you," Buck sighs, "What a mess of a day. I'm almost relieved Tommy didn't make it, not see me looking like I slept in a bathtub last night."
"what are you talking about? you really rallied. he'd find you handsome as hell," Eddie gleams, then suddenly feeling this tightness in his chest, as if he just realized he's dancing with a guy in front of everyone. and not just any guy. Buck, his best friend who he has a connection with like he hasn't with anyone before.
and now he's publicly dancing with him, and he didn't even think about it. Buck looked like he needed help, and also deserved at least one dance with how good he looked tonight.
oh god.
"and you look-" buck starts, but then stops himself because 1) he may have been about to call his best friend beautiful 2) Marisol is standing by her and eddie's table staring them down.
"uh your girlfriend does not look happy," Buck comments, causing Eddie's head to turn. the second they make eye contact, she hightails out of the reception hall.
"wait!" Eddie yelps as he chases after her. he feels bad leaving Buck there, but his girlfriend is obviously mad. But it's not like he was dancing with a girl, he was just offering some support by slow dancing with his guy best friend.
it is sounding gayer and gayer the more Eddie thinks about it. he's not far behind her but as she stomps through the entrance way, Eddie sees Tommy heading in the opposite direction.
"Hey Eddie!" Tommy starts, but then see Marisol storm past him with Eddie trailing behind, "uh, bye Eddie." wanting to avoid whatever confrontation is happening, he continues into the hall.
as Eddie steps out the building, he looks over his shoulder to see Buck embracing Tommy, looking so elated that he finally appeared.
and Eddie doesn't know why but he feels like he got punched in the gut.
"Marisol!" he calls out.
"I want to go home," she commands.
"yes, let's go home and talk-"
"no, I want to go to my home," she cuts him off, "my car is at yours. either drive me there or I'm taking an Uber to get it."
"it was just Buck," Eddie tries to distract.
"no, it was only Buck," Marisol points out, "we barely even danced, and then you-"
"Eddie, you're in love with your best friend," Marisol states firmly, "I don't care how he feels for you, but I don't want a boyfriend who obviously likes someone else more than me."
"So are you taking me home or not?"
and there goes the longest car ride of Eddie Diaz's life.
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jokerownsmysoul · 1 year
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In this house we love Arthur's brown polo shirt. this is a stan account in case you were wondering
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he really said that 💀💀💀 what a man 😍
#have i already posted this clip? idfk man it's 6am gimme a fucking break /lh LMAO#ahsjkahs he's so sassy sometimes 👉👈 it's really funny and adorable and cute.. and extremely attractive-#also he's so strong!!!#i think about him all the time sjdhsjdh i cant wait to play x.enoblade all day#... after i drag myself out of hed#*bed#last night i had a great night! im just.. so tired...#closing night of a musical! we all hugged and laughed and cried and posed and took pictures and all that and it was so wholesome#but.. so much singing and dancing.. almost every day.. and we kinda went all out yesterday- my body is so sore LMAO i dont wanna get up!!#but hey... dont gotta get up when i'm snuggling d.unban yeah?#my plushie of my wifey a.qua also sits on my bed every night so it's so nice to wake up and see her there! i love her sooooooooo much!!!!!#point is. d.unban is the best sjdhsjdj he's strong and loyal and brave and funny and sooooo handsome!!!#he's my newest f/o but he's the only thing on my mind always!#also.. since im all sleepy... his chest makes for a really nice pillow#i refuse to put a shirt on him in my file because. um. hahahaha. 😳#but it also means im constantly fantasizing about laying on and feeling his bare chest#he gives such good cuddles and he's so comfy too! s/i is always super careful about not accidentally hurting his injured arm#whenever they're cuddling or kissing or doing anything else#she does like kissing it though. the scars are so beautiful.#ash rambles 💚#also his voice is just so pleasing! sometimes he and s/i (and the other party members) poke fun at each other since s/i is#the only character that doesn't talk in british LMAO d.unban has never really heard anyone talk like her before but he loves her voice hehe#he's just such a sweetheart! and he's sooooo strong too!!!!! i'm always in awe whenever i watch him fight#god i love long haired swordsman so much! shout out to my beloved f.elix! love you babe#anyways good morning and i love d.unban! i'm going back to bed lol#your f/os love you all actually <3
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buckyalpine · 3 months
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40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.
Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.
You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.
Bucky was in love.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"
“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"
“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.
"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.
He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.
How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.
So much closer.
-
"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"
You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.
“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.
"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"
"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.
All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-
“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"
You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.
“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”
His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.
"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.
Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.
-
You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.
"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.
"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.
You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.
"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"
He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.
"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.
"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.
But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.
If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.
You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.
"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.
Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.
Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-
“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.
“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"
"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.
"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.
"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .
“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”
His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.
“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.
“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-
"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"
-
And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.
There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.
It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.
The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.
Everything was perfecttt.
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ervotica · 5 months
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please don’t go, i love you so
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pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader
warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey
note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!
hunger games masterlist
Coriolanus is possessive.
It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.
It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.
It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.
He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.
There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.
You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.
“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”
His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.
“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.
He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.
“Nothing. I have you.”
“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”
He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.
“Coryo,” you pant.
“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.
“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.
You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.
“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”
The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.
“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”
“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”
“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.
“Wanna show me just where you belong?”
8K notes · View notes
nanaslutt · 6 months
Note
Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before
of course ml!! tysm for asking <3
part 1 here~
contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔
“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows
gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck
both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,
“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying
“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging
“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,
“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child
“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”
satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right
he was a truly unforgettable fuck
“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,
“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall
he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,
“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left
“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,
gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,
“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,
“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,
“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,
“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,
“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,
“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,
your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,
“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru
continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features
“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing
coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,
“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”
———————————————————————
almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,
gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,
“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,
“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,
“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat
“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip
satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling
your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more
“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,
suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls
the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,
“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath
“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high
“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,
“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm
gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out
“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,
getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,
“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,
and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue
geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,
“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass
all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,
he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever
geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls
you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,
suguru coming around to sit by his head
when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face
gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,
“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps
geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”
9K notes · View notes
saetoru · 7 months
Text
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ 4:08 AM — GOJO SATORU.
contents. fluff, established relationships, sleepy n cuddly toru :(, just needed to write this to cope with the 236 manga leaks i guess. i just love him tons sobs i need him happy and loved and peaceful
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“hey,” you poke satoru’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble under your cheek, “toru?”
“hmm?” oh. he sounds a little tired—maybe you should let him sleep.
“you awake?” you ask anyway.
“am now,” he mumbles—well, he’s already awake, so you might as well indulge in it now. “need somethin’, sweetheart?”
“jus’ missed you is all,” you pout—that makes him grin despite the way he yawns, all wide and smooth even as he fights the sleep in his eyes. you feel just a bit guilty, reaching to cup his cheek and running a thumb over his eyelid carefully.
“yeah?” he chuckles quietly, “‘m right here. you still miss me?”
“yeah,” you whisper, “always miss you. even when you’re right here.”
satoru’s grinning into your cheek as he leans down and presses a wet kiss to the skin—he can’t possibly be mad that you’ve woken him so late. he can’t be mad when it’s you, and it’s him, and it’s each other.
sleep can wait, there’s always time for that later. but there’s never a moment where he wants to risk counting on later when it comes to you.
“what’d you miss about me?” he hums, nibbling on your earlobe as his head buries into your neck. you shift, letting his body tuck against yours as your arms wrap around him—he feels safe like this, somehow. infinity doesn’t make him feel nearly as secure as the way your arms do, tight and warm and made just for holding him.
“dunno,” you murmur, “everything.”
“love me that much?” he asks cheekily, “me sleeping right beside you isn’t enough?”
“no,” you huff, “you can’t pay attention to me in your sleep.”
“my needy baby,” he snickers, rubbing circles into the small of your back with his large palm. he’s warm against you—you can feel the rhythm of his heart as it beats against your body. he’s pressed so close to you, that not even air can slip through the cracks.
truthfully, you don’t know why you wake satoru. you don’t know why you can’t sleep—you just know that you need him. here. now. always. forever. more and more and more and even more.
“toru?” you ask quietly, making him hum as his eyes droop back shut slowly—he must really be tired.
you stare at him fondly, stroking his hair as he sighs happily at the feeling. and then you press a kiss to his forehead, to his cheek, to the corner of his eyes where they crinkle when he smiles, and to those lips of his that always find yours no matter how long it takes.
he always comes back to you. always. he never won’t—that much you trust.
“got somethin’ on your mind, baby?” he asks slowly, voice thick with sleep. you giggle, scratching at his scalp as he smiles lightly.
he dozing off—you watch him, hopelessly endeared.
“i love you,” you whisper, “need you to know that. love you so, so much. kay?”
he cracks an eye open—stares at you like you’re the reason his heart ever started beating, like you’re the only one that could ever command it to stop. every inch of his face is laced with love so gentle, you can see the way it makes his skin glow.
you love him. you’re sure he loves you. that’s all you need to know it’ll be fine. everything else is an afterthought—just as long as you have satoru.
“woke me just to confess your love for me?” he gasps, “you’re down bad. real, real bad. i must be a super handsome, totally awesome boyfriend. i do try,” he says cheekily.
you giggle, rolling your eyes as you pinch his cheek.
“be humble, you jerk,” you say exasperatedly.
it sounds more like you’re in love. too much fondness slipping into your voice that it might make your teeth hurt from how sweet. satoru’s always had a sweet tooth, though—he accepts your love graciously, like it’s never too much.
if fact, it might just not be enough. he needs more, more, more.
“can’t,” he says slowly, yawning again, “you waking me up just to love me is a bit ego boosting.”
“this was a mistake,” you scoff—its playful, it’s fond. it sounds like deeply falling headfirst.
“aw c’mon,” he pouts—and then he’s brushing his lips against your neck a he clings closer to you, curling into your body with his six-foot-something stature as you pull the blanket tighter around him, “love you too. what was it you said again? oh, right—so, so much.”
“good,” you hum, nodding in satisfaction. “you better.”
“i do,” he chuckles, “can i sleep now? or are we gonna start talking about all the things we love about each other? cause i can stay up to listen to that, of course.”
“go to sleep, you idiot,” you scoff.
he grins. you press one last kiss to his forehead as you count the soft breaths he takes while he falls back asleep.
you love him—it’s all you ever want to do.
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i cried while writing this and i cried thinking about the leaks and i cried while reading the leaks and i cried and cried and i’m tired of crying. gege when i catch you gege 🔫
12K notes · View notes
pucksandpower · 2 months
Text
Theories of Relativity
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors
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The Olive Theory
When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)
You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.
As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”
Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"
You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”
Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"
You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.
Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”
The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”
“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.
Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.
“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”
You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”
Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”
You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”
The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.
After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.
You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”
Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”
You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"
“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.
You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”
Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”
The Bird Test
If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time
The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.
You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.
You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.
As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.
“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”
Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”
You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”
Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"
“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”
As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.
Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.
“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”
He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”
You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”
Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”
The Orange Peel Theory
A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship
Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.
Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.
“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"
Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”
He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.
You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.
“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”
“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.
“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.
Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.
“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.
One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.
You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.
When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.
Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”
You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.
Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.
The little things that mean everything.
You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.
You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”
Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”
He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”
You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”
Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.
“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.
Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.
You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.
The Invisible String Theory
An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)
The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.
Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.
Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”
You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.
Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”
You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.
Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”
He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.
A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.
Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.
“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.
Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.
“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”
Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”
Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.
Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.
It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.
You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.
Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.
He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”
“Soulmates,” you whisper.
You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.
Meant for each other. Destined, even then.
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