#OF. COURSE I love him he’s so awful come on

[kissktten]

itoshi rin

rin loves his cutesy girlfriend.

you’re just so adorable!! your hand clasping his, tugging him along as you practically bounce with each step you take. rin promised to come with you to the store— so, here he is, trailing behind his petty girlfriend as she smiles so brightly.

it’s almost laughable, really. a tall, stoic soccer player and probably the girliest girl around. and if rin’s being honest, he loves it!

he’s more than happy to kneel down in the middle of the street, slim hands reaching to adjust the cute frills of your socks before redoing the buckles on your adorable little mary janes.

and rin definitely doesn’t mind holding all your bags, shaking his head at you and insisting it’s fine, and that he can hold them, when you try and tell him you can carry them yourself.

rin has also become your backup whenever you’re at stores.

“i had it first!” some lady shouts at you, her ugly nose scrunching as her hands curls into a fist. “give it back!”

you can tell that she’s only so territorial over the dress because she wants to sell it for triple the price on one of those dumb websites.

“i was literally holding it and you tried to snatch it away from me.” you deadpan, looking back at the woman with an unamused expression. like a cute little copy of rin, if you look close enough.

“liar!” she shrieks in that annoyingly loud voice of hers, and her bony hand curls into a fist— is she going to . . . ?

too bad for her, you have a boyfriend that is definitely not going to let his girlfriend get punched over a damn dress.

his hand grabs her wrist, and the glare he sends to her speaks volumes. guess she didn’t need the dress that much anyways, because she’s quick to scramble away— leaving you, and rin, victorious.

when you get home, rin’s feeling almost excited to watch your little fashion show. it’s a tradition the two of you have— after every single shopping trip, you need to put on everything you get and show off a little.

rin loves it. he loves you.

“very cute, baby.” he’d say, a hand lifting up to adjust the frills of your new skirt. “the colour is nice. a new shade of pink?”

he’s become surprisingly good with colours. at the start of your relationship, it didn’t matter to him— pink was pink and white was white. but now, he’s able to notice even the smallest changes of shades. you’ve trained him well !

rin has also just resigned himself to becoming your personal accessory tester.

“awe, you look so handsome!” you coo, fixing one of the many bows you had clipped into his soft hair. “my little princess.”

yes, in this relationship rin is the princess. the pretty princess, actually.

“thank you, lovely.” he hums, hands gently smoothing over the fabric of your pants. you’re staying at home today, so you haven’t changed pyjamas yet— but you still just look so cute!

of course, rin always has to match with you. wearing cute little pyjamas with paw prints everywhere, the light pink all pretty and cute and so very out of place for a man like rin.

masterlist.

note: i’d like to write more of rin x his cutesy pretty girlfriend . . . should iiiiii???

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Omg i love your stories so much!

Can i make a request of Teen daughter of Charles of (do you remember that picture where Charles was standing on the side cause the fans were taking pictures with Alex? His face still makes me laugh) basically like that, maybe they are in Monza, and as we know Charles is the Ferrari prince, but the fans giving all the attencion (asking for pictures, pictures, yelling for her) while Charles stands on the side (all the drivers + wags are probally cackling at this kkk)

A Weekend to Remember

The sun was already shining brightly over the Autodromo Nazionale Monza as Charles guided the car through the bustling entrance, a familiar excitement buzzing in his chest. But this time, the nerves and anticipation weren’t just about the race. This year, his daughter, Yn, was sitting beside him, her eyes wide as she took in the chaos and beauty of the Italian Grand Prix.

"You okay?" Charles asked softly, stealing a glance at her while maneuvering through the crowds.

Yn turned to him, her face lighting up with a smile. "I still can't believe I'm here," she admitted, her voice full of excitement. "Mom almost didn’t let me come."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "I know, believe me. I had to beg for hours. Your mom worries too much."

"You do know you’re like, insanely famous here, right?" Yn teased, raising an eyebrow.

Charles sighed dramatically. "Ah, so you think I’m famous now, do you? I’m just doing my job."

Yn laughed, the sound bright and warm. "Come on, Dad. These people love you. It’s crazy."

As they pulled into the paddock entrance, the crowd’s energy was palpable. The sea of red—Ferrari caps, flags, and scarves—was impossible to miss. Even after years of driving, the love from the tifosi still amazed Charles. But today, all of it felt different. Better. Because his daughter was finally here with him.

When the car came to a stop, Charles exhaled slowly, glancing toward Yn again. "Ready?"

She nodded eagerly. "Let’s do this."

As soon as they stepped out of the car, the noise swelled. Fans cheered his name, waving banners with his face plastered across them. Charles instinctively placed a protective hand on Yn’s shoulder as they moved toward the entrance.

A group of fans rushed toward them, phones in hand. Charles smiled warmly, greeting them with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. "One at a time, yeah?" he said, already posing for selfies.

Yn stepped to the side, watching with a mixture of awe and pride. It wasn’t the first time she had seen her dad in this environment, but seeing the fans’ adoration up close was something else entirely.

"You okay?" Charles asked between pictures, his green eyes checking in on her.

"I’m good," Yn assured him. "It’s just… wow, Dad. They really love you."

He laughed softly, squeezing her shoulder before turning back to the fans.

When they finally made their way toward the pit lane, the crowd seemed to grow louder. Charles kept Yn close, guiding her through the familiar chaos of Monza. But just as they approached the Ferrari garage, something unexpected happened.

A group of fans rushed toward them again—but this time, their attention wasn’t on Charles.

"Yn! Can we get a picture with you?" one of them called out, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Yn blinked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Me?" she whispered, looking up at her dad.

Charles looked just as surprised, his mouth twitching in disbelief. "They’re asking for pictures with you," he murmured, almost to himself.

Another fan beamed at Yn. "Please? You’re amazing!"

Yn hesitated for a moment before glancing back at Charles. "Is it okay?"

Charles chuckled, still processing the situation. "Of course, if you want to."

She smiled and turned back to the fans, posing with them as they eagerly snapped selfies. Charles stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he watched the scene unfold. His daughter—his little girl—was out here, posing for pictures like a natural.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

"Problem, mate?" a familiar voice teased from behind him.

Charles turned to see Pierre approaching, a knowing grin on his face.

"Not a problem," Charles replied, though his expression gave away his confusion.

Pierre clapped a hand on his shoulder. "My goddaughter’s an icon. What did you expect? She’s got the charm—it runs in the family."

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. "She’s not even supposed to be the famous one," he mumbled.

Pierre laughed. "Good luck with that. I think the Tifosi just adopted her."

After Yn finished taking pictures, she skipped back to her dad, her face glowing with excitement. "Did you see that? They actually wanted pictures with me!"

Charles felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest—a mix of pride and nostalgia. For a moment, it was like she was little again, running toward him after spotting something exciting. He reached out, pulling her into a hug before he could stop himself.

"I’m proud of you," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity.

Yn tilted her head in confusion. "For what? I didn’t do anything."

Charles shook his head, hugging her a little tighter. "Just for being you."

She laughed softly, leaning into his embrace. "You’re such a softie, Dad."

"You’re going to give him a heart attack at this rate," Pierre teased from the side, clearly enjoying the show.

A few more drivers had gathered, and Charles could hear the quiet laughter behind him. Max smirked from a few steps away. "You okay, man? Need a minute?"

"I’m fine," Charles shot back, though the fondness in his voice was undeniable.

Carlos strolled up with a grin. "Your daughter is stealing your spotlight, mate. How does it feel?"

Charles just shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "I don’t mind. She deserves it."

Yn beamed up at her dad, squeezing his arm. "I still can’t believe I’m here. Thank you for convincing Mom."

Charles softened, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anytime. I wanted to share this with you."

As they stood there—surrounded by the noise of Monza, the teasing of friends, and the love of the tifosi—Charles realized something. No matter how intense the race weekend got, this moment with Yn would be the one he’d hold onto.

And if the fans wanted to adopt his daughter as their newest icon… well, he couldn’t blame them.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoy reading this. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[pluckyredhead]

Do you think Dick has a favourite brother?

I LOVE THIS QUESTION. I'M GOING TO ANSWER IT AT UNNECESSARY LENGTH.

But for the tl;dr crowd: yes, 1000000%. It's Damian. Dick would not admit this under pain of death, even to himself, but it's Damian.

THE LONG VERSION:

So Dick and Jason are not close and never have been. I always sort of blink in bewilderment when people say they are, or were when Jason was Robin, because they are demonstrably not, and that's what's interesting and tragic about them.

The fact of the matter is that Dick simply wasn't around very much when Jason was Robin. The Doyleist reason for this is that he wasn't really being treated like a Bat character: he was a Titans character, appearing in Titans books, with only the occasional cameo in Batbooks. He and Jason get along very well in Jason's first origin story (when Jason was a circus acrobat and his parents were eaten by crocodiles); in fact, Dick tells Bruce he wants to adopt Jason and Bruce is like "Not if I adopt him first!" But after that, Dick simply...wasn't there very often.

If you need a Watsonian reason for this, it's pretty easy to extrapolate one. Dick and Bruce were not getting along well during this period, so of course Dick would avoid Bruce and Gotham. And yeah, I think it's fair to assume Dick felt some kind of complicated feelings about Bruce having a new Robin, especially post-Crisis when Bruce made Jason Robin without Dick having any say or even a warning that it was going to happen. I tend to headcanon that he resented Jason a little, but was mature enough to know that it wasn't actually Jason's fault, and partially decided to stay away so that he didn't take that out on Jason. But Jason, a smart and sensitive kid, interpreted this as Dick avoiding him because he didn't like him.

And then Jason died.

Dick took that hard, and I think it was less "my brother who I had a close relationship with died" and more "this child followed in my footsteps and it killed him and I wasn't even there for him when I had the chance." To me, that absolutely forms the subtext of the relationship he develops with Tim.

Not at the start. At the start, once "A Lonely Place of Dying" is over, he's as checked out with Tim as he was with Jason. The Doyleist reason is the same - Dick literally just wasn't supposed to be in Batbooks too much - but the way it plays out is sometimes really funny in an awful way. Like in and just after Knightfall, when Bruce gets his back broken by Bane and is like "I've known Jean-Paul Valley for two weeks and he barely has any training, most of it done by my extremely new 13-year-old Robin...I think I'll make him Batman." And then Tim's dad and Tim's dad's doctor, Shondra Kinsolving, get kidnapped, and since Bruce has been aggressively romantically pursuing Shondra to the point of it being uncomfortable and inappropriate, he's like "Okay going to rescue Shondra! I mean, your dad! I'm taking Alfred with me! Tim, you're in charge of Gotham and Jean-Paul byeeeeee!" And then JPV immediately gets unhinged and violent and tries to kill Tim and Tim keeps calling Alfred like "Um can you please come back and help" and Alfred's like "No" and Tim's like "Okay well did you at least rescue my dad?" and Alfred's like "Also no." Anyway Dick finally comes to Gotham and Tim is like "THANK GOD, HELP, BRUCE MADE AZRAEL BATMAN AND HE'S TRYING TO KILL EVERYONE, I NEED AN ADULT" and Dick is like "He made someone who isn't me Batman??? 😡😡😡" and then just...fucks off back to New York and leaves Tim to deal with it. Very out of character, VERY funny.

BUT ANYWAY. Then we get to around 1996 and 1. Dick is no longer on the Titans which has a whole new lineup and 2. there's an editorial shift emphasizing the Batfamily. This is where the line really expands: Robin (started in 1993, but still pretty new), Nightwing, Birds of Prey, Azrael, eventually Gotham Knights in 1999 and Batgirl in 2000. Dick moves to Bludhaven and spends way more time in Gotham.

This is when Dick looks at Tim, says "Is anyone gonna big brother that?" and doesn't wait for an answer. All of a sudden he's behaving in a way that suddenly feels in character for him (although the idea of Dick as a big brother/mentor...really wasn't a thing for him prior to this era, so it's more of a new development that feels correct in retrospect). He's training Tim, he's giving him advice, he's teasing him about girls, he's coming up with inside jokes, he's giving him noogies. It's like he watched a bunch of 80s sitcoms to learn how to be a big brother and applied his research accordingly.

And Tim? Tim absolutely blossoms under the attention. Tim, who has been adultified by every other adult in his life since he was, like, eight, is getting treated like a kid. Tim, whose parents are never around, and don't pay attention when they are around, has an adult he looks up to who wants to spend time with him, for fun. Tim, who has hero worshipped Dick Grayson since he was...well, according to the math, he was one (1) year old so let's ignore the math, but he was small, is now basking in the full force of Dick Grayson's off-the-charts charisma. This is the best thing that has ever happened to Tim. This is the dream.

I want to be clear here: I think Dick's extreme reversal here is a delayed reaction to Jason's death, but I don't want to imply that he doesn't care about Tim as an individual. He loves Tim as much as Tim loves him. Tim's good opinion is incredibly important to him. This relationship goes both ways.

Annnnd then both of their lives fall apart extremely rapidly, and Damian shows up, and Bruce dies. And Dick tries to get out of it, but ultimately it ends how it has to: with him accepting the mantle of Batman, and responsibility for Damian.

The relationship Dick has with Damian is nothing like the relationship Dick has with Tim. Tim is his little bro. Damian is his baby. He's fourteen years older than Damian and as much of a parent figure as a sibling figure. And Damian is difficult and exhausting but Dick slowly, slowly coaxes a degree of trust and affection out of him that even Bruce will never achieve. And he can only do that by making Damian Robin, which means Tim has to stop being Robin.

This is where Dick and Tim fall apart, because what they need in this very vulnerable moment is so diametrically opposed, and neither of them are wrong. To Dick, asking Tim to step down - or up, from Dick's perspective - from being Robin is a compliment. Dick fought to free himself from Bruce, to become his own man with his own name, and so asking Tim to do the same thing is a show of faith in Tim, in his skills and experience.

Whereas Tim's hero-worship has always been for Robin, not Batman, and every glimpse he has had of a future beyond Robin has always been a dystopia. But more importantly, Tim has just lost his father, his stepmother, his mentor, his girlfriend, and his two best friends. He desperately needs to be able to lean on Dick, the grown-up he admires the most, and instead, Dick is kicking him out of the nest.

In other words: Dick is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "I need you to help me by being a fellow adult." And Tim is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "But I need you to be my adult." And they both get a no.

This is water under the bridge now, and they've healed even though they've never really talked it through because Bats don't do that (although what I wouldn't give for a Nightwing/Red Robin miniseries where they do everything but talk about it). But I do think Tim looks at the closeness and affection between Dick and Damian and feels some kind of way about it to this day, because it's so clear to everyone that Damian is Dick's favorite...but Tim remembers when he was Dick's favorite. And what Tim doesn't see is that Dick values him as a genuine partner in a way he will never quite achieve with Damian, because to him, Damian will always be his baby, even more so than he is Bruce's. (Dick is Bruce's baby, actually, not Damian. In this essay I will...)

(I could see a really interesting dynamic developing between Jason and Tim here, as the ones on the outside of that mutual appreciation society, but sadly the comics have never gone there. Alas.)

Finally, I think the relationship between Dick and Duke is very much "I just work here." Like, Dick is grown, he's out of the house, he's largely matured past the Bat-drama. He likes Duke but he doesn't feel the compulsion to brother him the way he did with Tim, and Duke doesn't need the mother henning Damian did.

IN CONCLUSION, and hooboy, sorry anon, most of this wasn't at all the question you asked:

Duke and Dick get along fine but aren't particularly close.

Damian is Dick's precious baby and always will be, even when Damian is an adult and annoyed by this treatment (but privately kind of loves it because he is a princess at heart).

Tim is Dick's buddy, his pal, his equal. If Dick were ever going to talk something through with a sibling, it would be Tim. (But that would require Dick admitting that everything isn't perfect or asking for help, so it'll never happen.)

Jason and Dick can't be in a room together for five minutes without fighting and Dick finds him wildly frustrating, but they will throw down for each other. When they aren't punching each other.

(And to answer the corollary: Damian's favorite brother is Dick. Tim's favorite brother is also Dick. Duke's favorite brother is Tim by default, since he doesn't know Dick very well and Jason and Damian are both too annoying, but really he's closest with Cass. Jason's favorite brother is Ace and he has communicated that often and loudly (but really it's probably also Dick).)

[soldiersgirl]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝟏-𝟖𝟎𝟎-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐞 .ᐟ

summary — ben isn't willing to learn a lot about new, modern society and it's "made-up" words, but when it comes to you? he wants to finally give it a go.

cw — fem!reader x soldier boy, 18+ smut (mdni / wrap it up), phone/facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), fingering, jerking off, dirty talk, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, good girl, sweetheart, love, angel), daddy kink, self-tasting, swearing.

word count — 2,580 words

during your time babysitting the infamous supe, who had also somehow become your boyfriend, you had fallen into a comfortable routine of teaching each other things about your eras. his lectures talked about the high-roller parties and the actresses he got into scandals with, the golden age of cinema (aka the movies he starred in) and the high passion of a war-torn america. however his lectures soon progressed into how to properly enjoy a good aged whiskey and an assortment of pills.

whilst you diligently spent your time trying to educate and update him on everything he had missed over the past 40 years, or so, in the company of the russians. everything from slang, fashion and popular culture to the most important; how to use the phone and internet. no modern man could function without that and despite how stubborn soldier boy was, to his dismay, you were more. and no matter how much he denied loving it, he really did.

after weeks of pestering him, begging him to let you give him a crash course, he finally agreed. or rather yelled that "if it got you off his fucking case, then he would." so, you started off gently with a flip phone, which you thought couldn't be easier to use. no one breaks a flip phone. except for ben. he grunts and curses as he presses the keys multiple times, his attempt at typing before swiftly breaking the phone in two and chucking it into the corner of his living room with precision.

"the buttons were too fucking small." he defends himself before settling back into the couch and stared at the tv, ignoring the dumbfounded look painted across your face. the next day you skip into the living room with a new gift and smile widely at him as he rips open the packaging and scowls at you as he pulls out the newest smartphone.

"the fuck is this? portable tv? can't watch shit on this fuckin' thing! where would i put in the vhs?" he mumbles as he examines the device before haphazardly throwing it on the kitchen table, where you scramble after it. good thing you had gotten that deal on screen protector and hunters green phone cover, matching ben's suit.

"adapt or die, grandpa." you scoff. "this thing is gonna become your life after i've shown you how to use it." you wave it in his unimpressed face. "you can stream shit on netflix, watch your movie clips on youtube, listen to that awful shit you called music on spotify and, most importantly, order anything right to your door with amazon and uber eats." you pat his head and he swats your hand away before grabbing the phone and frowning at it. he sighs and looks up at you with those puppy eyes that harden under your hopeful grin.

"i don't know fuck about shit or shit about fuck, but what i do know is that those are all made up words." he lowly chuckles, brushing away his bangs.

"oh beeeen..." you sigh and sit down next to him. "listen, you'll be able to call or text me whenever you want." you flutter your eyelashes at him. "send videos... pictures." you trail off, tracing your finger over his veiny arms, hoping he'd get the message. but as he always does, he understands it at face value and just grimaces at you.

"why the fuck would i want that? not some snivellin' pussy who needs to talk to his girl all the time." he scoffs. with that, you snatch the phone away, stuff it in your bag and look back at him with a frown. the rest of the evening, unfortunately for ben, was spent with you giving him the silent treatment as he slowly grovels his way back into your good graces and begrudgingly accepting the smartphone all while you snuggle up to him and explain the ins and outs.

despite your best efforts and loudest protests, you were stuck at home as ben had decided for you that you weren't allowed to put yourself in harms way, not now that you were his girl. thankfully, teaching ben how to use a phone significantly eased your heavy heart when he went away on missions, now you didn't have to rely on butcher to tell you whether or not he was alive, and that prick barely checked his phone to begin with.

you lounged around in ben's signature blue new york giants button up alongside your go-to order for sushi and new girl, your favourite comfort show, blaring on your tv before you settled in for another uneventful evening; whilst ben and the boys got to have all the excitement and fun. as the evening dwindled on after watching god-knows how many episodes and doom scrolling on your phone, you found yourself reaching a new height of boredom and loneliness. you had gotten so used to ben that whenever you had a moment alone, your thoughts wandered to him immediately.

his distinctive earthy scent as he towers over you. your fingers graze over your white cotton underwear as you tease yourself. his cocky smirk as you whine and moan underneath him, at his mercy. you push against your bundle of nerves and you can't help but let a small whimper escape you. the way he fills you like no one else and fucks you like his hunger can't be sated. you slip your fingers under your waistband and lose yourself in the feeling of your fingers delicately rubbing over your needy clit. you hum in pleasure as you let your imagination take over and allow your fingers to explore yourself as you bite into your lip to quieten your whimpers when you quickened your pace.

PING!

"fuck." you groan in annoyance as you pull your hand away from your aching pussy and reach out for your phone. you had been waiting to hear how the mission went from ben and finally, it seemed he had a second to spare for you. you scoff inwardly as your eyes glance over his message, as if you hadn't been waiting anxiously for hours to hear from him and this is what you get.

bennie boo<3: wyd

you: why are you texting me like you're a horny teenage boy and not my boyfriend??? you: try again and maybe i'll actually talk to you

as the grey tick turned to blue, indicating that ben had read your message, you can picture the theatrical way he would roll his eyes and huff at your tone of message and you can't help but giggle.

bennie boo <3: my beautiful princess with a disorder bennie boo <3: talk to me, wyd

"asshole." you whisper to yourself as you knew that ben sent that message with a smug smile plastered across his face, anything to get you riled up. you don your own sly grin as you type truth about what you were doing.

you: touching myself and thinking of u, ofc???

"bennie boo <3" flashes across your phone and you laugh out loud, that man never denied himself of any pleasures and you knew he'd be desperate to see you fall apart for him. you let him suffer for a few seconds, keeping him on his toes as you laid down in your bed, readjusting your top so the valley of your breasts peeked out underneath his top and checking your makeup before answering.

"what took you so fuckin' long?" his rough voice floods your ears and your smile automatically widens.

"i miss you too, ben." you sigh.

"yeah, yeah. whatever, you know i miss you. blah blah." he sighs on the other end. you can hear his bed sheets rustle as he gets comfortable in his motel bed, still wearing his supe-suit trousers and his usual white, tight wife-beater. his shield, guns and supe-suit top were strewn around the room and a 6-pack of warm beer stood unattended on his nightstand.

"how did it go?" you sigh as you mindlessly twirl your hair, imagining your big, tough boyfriend lazily lay on his bed, his strong hands wrapped around his phone and the other around him.

"cut the bullshit." his voice was strained. you had him exactly where you wanted him. it was almost too easy. you shook your head and giggled into your shoulder before feigning ignorance.

"what do you mean, babe? i'm just aski–"

"don't fuckin' make me repeat myself." he interrupts. "touchin' yourself without my permission? you're in some fuckin' trouble, you know that, don't ya sweetheart?" you heard the familiar sound of his zip being pulled down and a soft sigh followed swiftly. "what were ya doin', love? huh? touchin' your pretty pussy and thinking of me?" his tone softens as he coaxes your sins out of you like a trained priest at confessional.

"mhm." is all you can manage as ben's shallow breathing is all you can think about.

"yeah? want to show me how, baby?" he chuckles darkly. before you can answer, you hear him swear and furiously tap on the screen before whispering to himself "which fucking button... motherfuckin' technology." you cover your mouth to hide your laughter, but ben hears and breathes out a tirade of curses as he struggles. you press the camera button and there he was. tired, frustrated and as handsome as ever as he lets his eyes glide from your face down to his top that practically swallowed you up and let out a loud groan. "fuuuuck, baby." he runs his hand over his face, freshening himself up.

"i'm wearing those cute panties you got me, you know. the ones with the lil bow on front." you admit as you tilt your phone down and teasingly pull up the top and reveal them to him. so white and so pure; a contrast to the wet patch that was pooling in them as you watched his tortured face. your fingers dance over the top, fiddling with the bow and circling your clothed clit. you keep your eyes focused on him as you notice his composure falter and his phone slightly shake as he slowly jerks himself off.

"take them off. now." he dictates, his tone rough and his voice hushed. you waste no time in peeling them off, pulling them down your legs and revealing a string of cum between your slick folds and damp underwear. ben sighs heavily as his eyes rest on your needy pussy as it begs for your attention, for your touch. "fuckin' touch yourself for me. show me what you did. be a good girl for daddy, c'mon." you lick the tip of your middle finger before connecting it your yearning clit and rub it in swift and quick circles as you watch ben's lip twitch and his eyes widen with desire. he furiously taps his screen again. tap, tap, tap. followed by a harsh whisper of "how the fuck do i turn this shittin' camera around?!" suddenly, a filter appears over ben's face and a groan, that came from a place of utter exasperation, pulls you out of your pleasure. a loud laughter erupts from you as ben's face had been transformed into a dog's and his anger was only escalating by the second.

"babe," you say through gritted teeth to contain your laughter. "press the left button and then the middle one." you calmly explain, only getting a grunt from ben in return before he turns the camera around and you stop in your tracks. his muscular hand wrapped his already-leaking thick cock, each vein prominent and the tip a deep shade of pink. his experienced fingers graze over his tip and he shudders at his own soft touch before he leisurely rubs it and resumes his iron grip at the base.

"yeah, that fuckin' shut you up, didn't it? cock-hungry whore." he sniffs as he jerks himself off, each stroke slow and calculated. "touch your pussy for daddy, baby. wanna see." your fingers return to your clit and in unison, you both let out pained whimpers as you wish it was one another's hands on your bodies. "how does it feel baby, hm? wish it was daddy's hands instead, don't you?" he spoke with a playful lilt before spitting into his hand and continuing his lazy pace as his piercing gaze watches you toying with your swollen clit.

"yes, daddy. i wish you were here, filling me up. fucking me like the good girl i am." you whine as you unconsciously buck your hips and apply more pressure to the frantic pace on your glossy bundle of nerves.

"good girls don't touch themselves." ben states matter-of-factly.

"daddy," you huff. "i was always thinking of you, though." you snivel as your fingers slowly glide down and slide with ease into your weeping cunt. with a loud moan you push them all the way in and curve them to hit the spot. a tirade of curses tumble past your lips at the sensation.

"so fuckin' dirty, oh my god," ben mutters through a soft exhale. "fuck yourself on those fingers, slut." you thrust them into you at a feverish pace, searching for your much-needed release as ben urges you on, encouraging you. "c'mon, show daddy how much you miss him. show me how wet you are, show me." you pull out your fingers and he marvels at them, covered in your slick. "yeah, baby. put them in your mouth, tell daddy how good you taste." you flip the camera and obediently wrap your lips around your glossy digits, batting your eyelashes at the camera as you suck on them, moaning at the taste.

"god, i taste so good, daddy." you hum around your fingers as your tongue dances over them. "wish you were here to taste me." you pout.

"when daddy comes home, he's gonna fuckin' devour you, baby. just you wait, you won't be able to think straight when i'm done with you." a soft groan tumbles past your lips as your fingers find their way to your entrance and massage themselves against your soft, velvet walls. bens pace picks up and all you can both hear on the line is your muffled whimpers and ben's shallow breathing. as your peak finally draws closer, you throw your head back in pleasure and grimace as your muscles tighten and clench.

"i'm so close..!" you whine.

"cum for me, bab–" ben's voice suddenly cuts off and you whip your head up in surprise. you freeze immediately and drop your phone in disbelief. he forgot to charge his fucking phone, again. you curse under your breath, clean yourself up and grumble in frustration as you turn your attention back to your tv show, unsatisfied. ben, on the other hand, had lost his shit, chucked his phone into the wall and sending it through to the neighbouring room. hughie peeked his head sideways and stared through the phone-shaped hole in his wall at a fuming, half-dressed ben.

"give me your cock-suckin' phone!" ben yells as hughie just stares before slowly nodding and handing it to him through the hole with a hidden smirk. "wipe that smirk off yer fuckin' face, asslicker. i swear to god." ben growls before settling into his bed, typing in your number and waiting impatiently for you. finally, after the third ring he hears your soft voice. "let's finish what we started, angel." he murmurs with a shit-eating grin as you giggle on the other end.

a/n: this is kind of the second part to perv!reader x soldier boy that you guys loved so much <3 HUGE shoutout to @emeraldcrs (ily!!) for the idea, i had so much fun with this and enjoyed making it a bit funny too, hehe -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @dulcescorderitas @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei @rositaslabyrinth (comment or inbox me to be added)

[folkwhoreberry]

Can u make an Oscar x reader story where they’re childhood best friends and reader is like a famous singer or something and they’ve been hinting about their relationship but no one even knew they had a connection

This was super long 😭 sorry if u don’t understand

Steering Hearts

oscar piastri x reader

or... the one where you swear you’ll be moving on with his favourite athlete

word count : 1.7k

warning : reader wrote “good graces” by sabrina carpenter, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : good graces by sabrina carpenter

🐨☘️

sweat dripped down your forehead, but you didn’t mind it, not even one bit.

with the microphone in your hand and the blinding flashes coming from the crowd, chanting your name and lyrics as you sang, how could you?

you stood in a line with your backup dancers, singing your hit song from your latest album, ‘good graces’.

“I’ll tell the world, you finish you chores prematurely,” you sang into the mic as you danced, “break my heart and I swear I’m moving on with your favourite athlete.” and that was the line that made the crowd scream. all because of a simple hand movement you did while singing - your free hand moving in circles imitating a steering wheel.

one simple hand movement - and the internet went crazy. because you wore an orange bodysuit while doing so. and lando norris and oscar piastri just so happened to be in the crowd.

an hour later the concert finally finished, you said your final thank yous to the crowd and crew before going backstage, where you were met with your manager and assistant, handing you a bottle of water and a towel to wipe of the sweat.

“you absolutely smashed it out there!” you manager praised you, a big smile on her lips as she patted your back.

you smiled and nodded and response, too out of breath to talk. you leaned against the nearest wall and kept drinking your water, until a familiar figure appeared in the corner of your eyes, along with another person trailing behind them.

“you did amazing, love!” oscar immediately said after coming close enough to you, his arms wrapping themselves around you without caring about the sweat covering you. “aw, thank you, osc.” you responded with a smile. “hey, it’s my nickname for him!” lando said from behind oscar, to which you rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue at.

“you’re tiring, aren’t you?” oscar whispered in your ear, making you hum in agreement. he chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to play with the ends of your hair. “so should we go back to the hotel?”

——————

the next morning was a mess on stan twitter. rumours of you dating the mclaren so-called ‘playboy’ lando norris were circulating all over the internet.

there were pictures of him and oscar going backstage after the show, videos of you smiling and waving to where the two boys were during the concert, sightings of the 25 year old filming you on his phone while you performed, and of course the orange outfit you wore that night, a colour that is often associated with mclaren, lando’s team.

——————

a week had passed since then, everyone somewhat calmed down from it, only sparking when lando was asked about it in interviews.

now, it was the morning of the australian grand prix - the first race of the 2025 season, and also oscar’s home race.

the paddock was full of excitement, reporters walking around with their cameramen and microphones, fans eager to meet their idols, and the drivers just trying to peacefully get from one place to another.

and there was you - walking through the paddock with you manager, just casually talking to her and occasionally turning to wave to a camera pointed at you pf take a picture with a fan.

“miss l/n, miss l/n! is it true that you’re dating lando norris?” one of the reporters asked you, pointing a microphone at you to hear your answer. you just smirked and snickered, ignoring g the question. “then why are you wearing a mclaren jacket?”

they weren’t wrong, you were wearing a mclaren branded jacket, white leather with their logo on the back, which you wore to support you boyfriend of course. you just kept on ignoring the cameras as you made your way to the mclaren garage, which luckily was the first one out of the rest of the teams. you walked inside, where you were met with oscar, who promised you he’ll meet you at the entrance.

“hey there, love. how was the drive here?” he asks you kindly, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you further inside, to the front of the garage. “alright, not too much traffic.”

he hummed in response, leading you to the secluded spot he prepared for you in the back of the garage to watch the race.

“I gotta go get in the car now, darling. cheer for me, yeah?” oscar said with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before he moved aside to take his gloves and helmet, walking to the front of the garage towards the track, where the national anthem will be played before the start of the race.

the race started just minutes later, and your heart was beating with each turn oscar took and each place he gained or lost.

after almost two hours the race ended, and you were happy that your boyfriend ended the race with no missing kind of any serious injuries, not even caring what place he finished in.

you watched oscar’s car roll into the pit lane and saw him climb out. you were glad he was safe, your heart finally settling after nearly two hours of tense turns and overtakes. the mclaren garage erupted in applause, but you stayed in your secluded spot, waiting for oscar to come over.

a few minutes later, you saw him approaching, wiping sweat off his forehead with a towel. his smile brightened the moment he spotted you, and you grinned back, leaning against the wall of the garage.

“how was that?” he asked, his voice still a little breathless from the race.

“you were incredible,” you said, stepping closer to him. “I swear my heart was in my throat the entire time.”

he chuckled, pulling you into a quick hug, the scent of sweat and fuel faint on his race suit. “you’re always so dramatic,” he teased, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“I think it’s justified,” you quipped, lightly smacking his chest. “especially after that last turn. I was ready to jump on the track and drag you off myself.”

oscar laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’m just glad I didn’t give you another heart attack. next time, I’ll make it easier for you.”

you smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back. “well, go do your interviews, mr. piastri. I’ll be waiting for you back here.”

“yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” he said, giving you a wink before heading off toward the media pen.

you found a spot near a screen in the garage to watch him and lando give their interviews. they stood side by side, casual as always, but you knew they were in for the usual bombardment of questions. sure enough, one interviewer didn’t waste time.

“lando, there’s been a lot of speculation about your relationship with a certain singer. any comment?”

lando smirked and shot oscar a sideways glance. “oh, we’re really doing this again?” he said, crossing his arms and pretending to think. “well, I can’t blame people for talking. she’s a fantastic performer, you know?”

oscar snorted beside him, shaking his head. “he’s full of it,” he added with a grin. “no relationship there, sorry to disappoint.”

they both shared a laugh, shrugging off the question as the interviewer quickly moved on to race-related topics. you had to bite back a smile as you watched the whole thing unfold. the internet was going to lose it - again.

——————

the next day, you had a concert in the same city, and once again, oscar and lando made an appearance. as the show started, the crowd was electric, and the energy only grew when you hit the chorus of your song, ‘good graces.’

“break my heart and I swear I’m moving on with your favourite athlete,” you sang, throwing in that same steering wheel motion you did at the last show. the screams from the audience were deafening, and you couldn’t help but grin at the chaos you’d created again.

you stole a glance toward the back of the venue, where you knew oscar and lando were. it was hard to miss them, even in the dim light of the concert hall. oscar had that proud, supportive look on his face that never failed to make your heart swell, while lando - well, lando was grinning like the mischievous devil he always was.

once the concert ended and the cheers died down, you headed backstage. it wasn’t long before oscar and lando followed, dodging a few cameras as they made their way through the halls.

“well, if it isn’t the star of the show,” oscar teased as he approached you, his smile lighting up his whole face.

“that’s me,” you said, still catching your breath from the performance. “did I live up to your high standards?”

“always,” he replied softly, stepping closer to pull you into his arms.

just as you leaned into him, you felt a flash of a camera, and before you could react, oscar’s lips were on yours. it was a quick kiss, nothing too showy, but the click of the camera and the flashing lights around you meant only one thing—the internet was about to go wild.

“oh great, here we go,” lando muttered from the side, raising an eyebrow at the photographers. “guess we’ll be dealing with questions about this tomorrow.”

you and oscar both laughed as you pulled apart, but deep down, you knew this was going to cause another storm online.

sure enough, overnight, the internet exploded with headlines, pictures of oscar kissing you backstage, and a new wave of speculation about your relationship. it was everywhere - your fans, his fans, random gossip accounts.

the next morning, after a quick talk with oscar, you decided it was time to put an end to the rumors once and for all. you posted a simple picture on your social media - one of you and oscar, arms wrapped around each other, lips interlocked, and of course a cheesy caption.

oscar did the same, posting a cute picture of the two of your from a random cozy night-in you had, paired with a caption you made him change three times because of how oscar-ish it was.

the response was instant - fans flooding the comments with excitement, support, and some playful teasing.

lando even chimed in, posting a candid picture of you he took with the caption “wrong papaya mate guys”.

you couldn’t help but laugh as you scrolled through the reactions. it was all out in the open now, and honestly? it felt pretty damn good.

————————————————————————————

a/n : took me so long to write it (two days lol) but oh my godddd am I a sucker for singer!reader it feeds the oc’s in my head

[samsblades]

✶ natural — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluff & smut, sorta sunshine!reader, post-hunting!au, passing mentions of monsters hunting and guns, nightmares, illness/fever (reader gets sick), consensual somnophilia, oral (r!recieving), swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, love), mostly unedited, 5.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : five times that you and sam are woken in the middle of the night, and one time you get to sleep in.

when you moved into this apartment with sam, you were both worried about having neighbors. you have the middle complex, so there's people upstairs and downstairs. overall, it's actually been pleasant. it feels nice and normal, and you're pretty sure that no one suspects that you and sam were previously monster hunters. mostly because none of your neighbors know that they exist. maybe it's a bit strange that you're a little older now, and just starting your lives, but you've just told everyone that you and sam didn't like what you were doing before, and have decided to start over.

the downstairs neighbors are delightful. lina and isa are just a bit younger than you and sam, brought you homemade bean and rice as a welcome, and told you about the fantastic panadería just a few blocks away. your only complaint might be that their music gets a little loud, and their luckily infrequent yelling matches in furious spanish are even louder.

it's the upstairs neighbors who bother you more. riya is nice, but you think they're too hot and too cool for their boyfriend nate. of course, that's not the problem, nor is it any of your business. for the record, though, sam agrees. it's more so about the middle of the night sex and the poor quality of whatever bed frame they made the awful choice of purchasing.

the first time they woke you up, it had been less than a week since you'd moved in, and none of the paranoia from your previous life had even begun to wear off for you or sam.

your heart is thundering at the first loud bump that wakes you. sam's hand finds yours just as yours looks for his. your other hand is searching blindly for a gun on your beside table that isn't there. it's in the drawer, still nearby, but hidden now and less accessible than you used to have it. you and sam sit up, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark and ears tuned for any other noises that might be out of place.

another thump nearly makes you open that drawer, but your now sharpened senses register that it's coming from the apartment above you. the next realization is that the sounds are rhythmic, and you just barely catch the sound of a muffled moan.

with that, you collapse back onto your pillow with a light laugh, eyes still bleary with sleep.

"goodness," you say through a breathy laugh, the headboard of their bed banging against the wall with complete insistence. it sounds unstable, honestly. "i think they're actually going to break the bed."

sam laughs with you, laying back down as well and turning on his side. his arm wraps around your waist and he buries his face into the side of your neck, nuzzling your warm skin with the tip of his perfect nose. this is followed with a soft kiss, as usual. you grin. sam can't see or feel it, but he knows it's there. that smile of yours and another soft laugh when the wall receives a particularly harsh bang.

"think this'll happen often?" you lament. "will we have to tell them to get a new bed frame? or have quieter sex?" it's sam's turn to laugh, a sleepy sound that suits him much better than anything loud or bloody.

"might," he murmurs into your skin, all soft and tired now that he knows there's no threat. for a few awful seconds, he thought some monster or hunter or whatever possible enemy had come to ruin your attempt at normalcy together before you'd even finished setting up all the furniture. he's happy that it's just the neighbors with a wobbly bed frame.

almost abruptly, the noise stops. you wait in quiet for a few moments to be sure that you're really being granted silence.

"they're done already?" you tease with a whispery laugh. it's not that sam doesn't have the skill to get you off quickly, or you him, but you tend to last much longer together. quickies aren't your go-to, even if they're required sometimes. now that you have your own place and are starting to settle down, you don't imagine things starting and ending that fast. as for last night, it felt like forever, in the best of ways.

you and sam are courteous enough to have a sturdy, quiet bed, though.

꩜｡⋆

you sleep light when you're feeling poorly. little things like the soreness of your throat or the movements of your upstairs neighbors wake you easily. so a sharp gasp from sam and the tensing of his muscles certainly pulls you out of your sleep. your eyelids seem to stick shut for a moment before fluttering open, and you shift in his arms. his slightly labored breathing goes silence as if he's holding his breath, likely worried that he's woken you and hoping that if he's quiet enough now you'll fall right back asleep.

"nightmare?" you whisper, voice course and barely audible. you resist curling your arm around his middle in case it's one of those dreams that makes touch difficult for him.

"sorry," he murmurs, answering your question with the tone of his voice rather than his words. he sounds tense and tired, and you know definitively now that his dreams have been unkind to him. you wish he'd never apologize for accidentally waking you. it's not as if you don't do the same sometimes.

"don't be sorry," you insist, as usual. his arms tighten around you, and you take it as a sign that you can do the same if you like. instead of slipping around his waist, your hand reaches up to settle into the soft hairs at the base of his neck. you pull his head close, pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering long. he's still all tense and closed off. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want. but talking about it won't… it won't make everything come back. talking about it won't change what we have now, you know that. we're allowed to talk about it. any of it."

"i know," he says, sounding like he doesn't really know it. you give a soft sigh, but don't push it. maybe you'll talk about it later, when he's ready. it's hard to focus on learning to live again when you're still haunted by the past. sometimes it's easier to just let the past be, to know that there are monsters in the closet, but keep the doors shut anyway. the understanding you have of each other has to be enough, and you've found so far that it is.

"you okay?" you decide to ask instead, voice as soft as it can be while your throat hurts like this.

he nods, then tilts his head up. "i'm okay." his lips find your chin as a reassurance, a promise. "it wasn't… as bad as it could've been." he's calming slowly, melting into your hold, so you suppose he's not lying. it's true that you've seen him worse.

"doesn't mean it wasn't bad at all," you murmur in protest, but not with any force. you follow it with another kiss to his hairline. "think you'll be able to fall back asleep?"

he hums in confirmation. "i'll be fine. but what about you? your throat still bothering you? do you need some tea?"

you give him a hum of your own, but it's not really an answer, just a little noise in response to how sweet he is, always more concerned for you than anyone else. your voice comes out as a grumble, "i think it's getting worse," you admit, "some tea might be a good idea, since i'm awake. i'll get it myself though, you go back to sleep. i'll be quiet."

a huff of air leaves his nose, tickling your neck. "you're funny," is all he says, like it's preposterous to suggest that he go to bed while you make yourself tea. he's too much of a gentleman to let you do that, but you also feel his hold on you tighten, just a bit. he doesn't want to be alone, even just for a few minutes. there is no comfort in being alone in the dark.

you retort with a gentle, "you're right, i'm hilarious. c'mon. since i'm letting you make me tea, it had better be good." he sits up with you, one of his hands still on your waist. his fingers slide to your lower back as you untangle yourself from him and the sheets, and he follows suit right after. he pads through the hallway behind you, overtaking you in the doorway into the kitchen with his hand brushing over the small of your back again before opening the cupboards for a mug.

he doesn't need to flip on a light because the blinds are open and the moon is bright tonight. so you watch him move through the shadowy room, preparing the tea that he knows you'll like the most right now. he makes a cup for himself too, liking the feeling on your eyes on him, never leaving.

the tea does a fine job of soothing your throat for the time being, and calms sweet sam's frayed nerves. he's had awful nightmares for as long as he can remember, but sometimes they're even more haunting now that his days are full of nice things. last week, you took a free ceramics class at the community center together. there's a few plant pots with herbs on the tiny fire escape balcony, and when you're not busy working to get better jobs, you sit and read novels that have nothing to do with hunting monsters.

your pinkies are linked across the little dining room table as steam rises from your mismatched mugs. the table is only outfitted for two, because you could only afford two chairs. that's alright, though, because you don't have anyone to invite over besides maybe the downstairs neighbors. but sam's starting to make friends with someone he volunteers at the library with, and unbeknownst to you, your bright friendliness is making your coworker want to hang out with you after your shared shifts. maybe you'll get a set of plastic chairs to use when there's guests.

꩜｡⋆

sometimes, loads of tea and vitamin supplements aren't enough to keep a nasty cold at bay. despite how nicely sam makes you several cups of tea a day, you're truly and fully ill now.

you're woken in a fit of fever, head fuzzy and cream-colored sheets sticking to you with sweat. for once, your body heat permeates more thickly than sam's, who always runs warm. an achy sigh leaves your parted lips, and your clumsy hands fight to push the plush comforter off your tired limbs.

your restless stirring wakes sam after a few moments, who props himself up on one elbow and runs a hand through his hair, immediately searching for the reason you're awake. his eyes adjust to the dark quickly to catch sight of the light, involuntary pout on your lips. before that even, his hand brushes over your upper arm and he feels the heightened heat of your skin.

"oh, baby," he whispers, reaching over to drape his palm carefully over your forehead. he doesn't have to say anything cliche, like 'you're burning up.' it's quite obvious on its own. he just pulls the thicker blanket from your body, but settles the sheet over you to prevent any chills. his thumb lightly brushes over your cheek. "that any better? i'm gonna get you some tylenol."

you only give a noncommittal hum, but he takes it as permission to leave you for just a moment. if you weren't so uncomfortable, you'd fall back asleep before he even got back. instead, you lay there, senselessly missing him and too exhausted to move.

he returns with tylenol as promised, along with a glass of water and a cool, damp rag. he sets the pills and glass down and carefully settles the rag over your forehead, earning a soft sigh of satisfaction from you. underneath the fabric, the furrow between your brows lessens just a bit. with all the gentleness in the world, he slips his hands under your head to tilt it up and brings the lip of the glass to your mouth. you drink as wordlessly instructed. he sets the water down for a moment and replaces it with one of the two pills. your lips part when he brings it to your mouth, then the cool glass is touching your skin again. both pills go down just fine, and he's settling your head back onto the pillows.

you fail to notice that he's brought the thermometer with him too until he asks you to open your mouth again. "just gonna take your temperature, honey," he murmurs softly. you give him no hassle, letting him tuck it underneath your tongue. when he pulls it out, he gives a little sigh. "definitely a fever, but it's not so bad," he tells you, taking your hand in his before pulling it up to his lips for a kiss to your knuckles.

"come back to bed," you grumble, giving him a weak tug.

"i think you'll get too warm," he protests kindly, "i'll just sit with you."

"there's no chair," you tell him, as if he doesn't know, "and i want you in bed with me. please?" you manage a little smile to try and convince him, looking sweet and tired and a little pitiful too, in the way that's so endearing it makes his heart hurt.

"i'm sorry, but i don't want to make your fever worse," he insists, voice still as gentle as it ever gets. "i'll bring a chair from the kitchen, okay?"

"but it's the middle of the night," you sigh, your smile slipping. it's too much effort to keep it there. "sleep with me."

"honey. it's already five in the morning. you know that's not too early for me," he says. it's true. in the past, sleeping until five would be a luxury for him. but you don't really care, and it's not the past anymore.

"you're crazy," you tell him, a little furrow settling between your brows.

"i know," he murmurs sympathetically, unfazed by your feverish accusation.

"it's too early for me," you complain. "won't you come back to bed with me? please?" of course, sam has known this entire time that he'd never beat you. it's just a matter of how many times he can deny you before he inevitably caves to your pretty eyes and hoarse voice. your soft 'please' has him ready to wave the white flag for peace; you're going to tear out his heart at this rate. but then your voice quiets even further, like you don't quite want to be heard despite the fact that you need to be understood. "i want you to hold me."

in the blink of an eye, he's kissing your cheek with a soft sort of determination. he doesn't even move a full inch away before he's whispering, "okay. alright, it's alright. i'll hold you. don't worry." then, his long limbs are slipping back under the covers and curling around you until you're settled on his chest, one hand still holding the cool rag over your forehead and your head carefully tilted so you can breathe easier.

he soaks up your heat, and the bottom sheet grows practically damp with your combined sweat. but he doesn't mind one bit, because you fall back asleep, looking far more comfortable and contented than before, for a while.

eventually, he does have to untangle himself from you because a frown settles on your lips and you turn restless in his arms again. he refreshes the cool compress to dab away your sweat and press to your hot skin. after a moment, he decides to prepare a second one for the back of your neck, and maneuvers everything so gently that you never wake until your body decides it must have water.

you wake with a little moan that he'd find sweet were it not an indication of your discomfort. he gets you more water, then lulls you back to sleep with his touch until it's time for another dose of tylenol.

꩜｡⋆

this moan is sweet, still hoarse and quiet, but only from sleep rather than sickness. your sounds start as little huffs of breath, a sigh here or there as his hands trace down your body and tug at your underwear, soft and quiet as to not wake you right away. he wants you to wake to the feeling on his lips on your hot, wet skin.

you most certainly do wake to that, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body gains awareness and your mind catches up to it. sam hums into your sensitive pussy as he feels you rouse, his hands gently holding your legs apart. he gives your thighs a sweet squeeze, then wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, softly at first to pull another noise from your lips.

he's easily successful, a quiet grunt leaving your lips as your tired arms reach down for some sort of contact with him. aside from his face buried in your cunt, of course. one hand finds purchase in his hair and the other curls around three of his fingers, holding his hand there against your thigh. your hips squirm as his tongue laves over you, your movements sluggish with sleep.

"sam," you sigh, out extra sensitive after just waking up and too tired to have complete control of your body. you're not loud, but you're noisy, letting out sweet and unfiltered sounds almost every time you breathe out. he gets more insistent the longer you're awake, letting his hunger and desperation show. his grip on you tightens, and his nose bumps relentlessly against your clit as he eats you out like he'd swallow you whole if he could.

the pleasure is overwhelming, overpowering, and you can't seem to keep a steady grip on him. your hands are still weak with sleep, so you continuously tangle and untangle your fingers in his hair, torn between pushing him away so you can breathe and pulling him closer so that the feeling will never stop.

"jesus," you groan, "please!"

"i got you," he mumbles, quickly so he doesn't have to stray from his task for long at all. "so good. so good for me, you taste so good."

"y-you couldn't.. hahh, help yourself, could you?" you pant out, eyes squeezed shut.

"never," he agrees before giving your clit a suck that tugs your back from the bed and pulls an extra pretty whine out of you.

"fuck," you sigh, "mmm, feels so good. please, sammy." really, you're not begging for anything other than for him to keep going exactly as he is, and and you know he has no plans to do anything but that. he loves this just as much as you do, possibly more. he's a damn addict, so much so that it wakes him up in the middle of the night.

the way he sweetly strokes the inside of your thigh with his fingertips is an easy contrast to the way his mouth moves against you, shameless and ravishing. your hips buck up into his face and your feet scramble for purchase on his hips to try and stay grounded. your thighs tremble with the effort, and sam moans right into you, beyond obsessed with the way you sound when you're sleepy and desperate and overwhelmed like this. it's no wonder he can't help but wake you like this sometimes, you sound like heaven, look like heaven as his eyes adjust to the dark and a sliver of moonlight finds its way into the room.

he gives you everything you need and takes everything he wants all at once, sending you over the edge with a sweet hum and relentless tongue. you clutch him close for a moment of hot ecstasy that may have lasted forever, then sag like a rag doll into the sheets. like always, he can't resist breathing you in, deep and long, and giving one last swipe of his tongue that sends a shudder up your spine.

your eyes flutter open and closed, exhausted by the pleasure and an already tired body. you swear you're still half-asleep, but in the way that you feel like you're floating, mind and body all fuzzy, soft, and satisfied. he stays tucked between your legs, sleepy too, despite being the one who was so ravenous in the first place. his head rests on your thigh, one hand still holding yours, and the other drawing stars over your hip bone.

he presses a kiss to your sweaty skin, his soft as ever and wet with your slick. "i love you," he whispers, "sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night." it's not the first time he's woken you like this, and you certainly hope it's not the last.

"i love you too," you murmur back, voice still raspy. "it's okay. love it when you wake me up like that. feels so good, every time. you're so pretty." you say that last part for no reason at all, other than it being true.

sam feels like blushing. "you're so pretty," he retorts quietly.

"thanks," you smile softly. to him, you shine like the sun, even in the dead of night. you're such a wonderful accompaniment to the moon, he thinks.

꩜｡⋆

neither the moon nor the sun show themselves much during the winter months. it tends to be quite cloudy here. the cold, on the other hand, is pervasive. and you and sam have discovered the horrors of having a landlord who's doing everything he can to avoid paying to fix your unreliable heating system. since it's not completely dysfunctional, he is most definitely stalling.

until it is completely dysfunctional, an issue that is made known to you at about 3:47 in the morning. the first thing you think is that sam must've accidentally stolen all of the blankets like he does sometimes. they'll get wrapped around his long legs, he'll roll over, and the whole plush comforter will go with him, leaving you exposed to the night air. but when you blindly reach for the blanket, you find that it's still snugly laid over you. that's when you begrudgingly open your eyes in confusion. your fingers are cold. the tip of your nose is honest-to-god freezing. and your feet. your poor, poor feet that have slipped out from the blankets and been left for dead in the cold air.

you're not the type to get grumpy. but you are now. you tuck your feet in and curl up against sam's back, seeking out his warmth. but it's too cold to ignore, so you shake sam's shoulder.

"sam, wake up," you groan, cursing his inconsistent sleeping style. sometimes he's the lightest, worst sleeper out there. other nights, he's impossible to wake. as he grows more accustomed to living a safer life, he gets more of those nights where he sleeps like a fallen log. you shake him again and he wakes with a grumble.

"what is it?" he asks as soon as he's awake enough to speak, voice gravelly. "god, it's freezing." he sits up groggily and immediately regrets it. you regret it too, because it leaves more of you exposed too. you chase after him, tucking yourself under his arm and against his chest.

"i think the heating gave out, like really gave out," you complain, trying to steal his body heat. he wraps his arms around you without any qualm, rubbing up and down your arms in attempts to warm you. he knows you get colder than he does most of the time.

"no kidding," he mumbles, pressing an absentminded kiss to the top of your head. "i'll get the space heater and hopefully that'll be enough until the morning." the light annoyance in his voice is indicative of what he plans to do in the morning. that is, call the landlord and demand he gets the heating fixed right away. it's not like the two of you have anywhere else to go without traveling farther than you'd like to. it pains you to let sam untangle himself from you, but the promise of more warmth is enough for you suffer without him for just a few minutes.

he returns with the space heater that you keep in the living room. the bedroom is usually warmer when you keep the door shut, but tonight, that makes no difference. he plugs the heater in, as close to the bed as he can at a safe distance, then wraps the blanket from the couch around your shoulders before climbing back onto the mattress.

despite the cold, you smile at him sweetly and contentedly as he gives you the extra blanket. he's so easy to be in love with.

he anticipates the way that you tuck yourself into him the moment he's laying down with you. and it's not as if he doesn't want you in his arms as much as you do, so he most certainly welcomes it. he settles one hand on the back of your head and pulls you close until your nose brushes against the soft skin of his neck. one of your legs sneaks between his, and he hooks his ankle with yours.

"i guess this is what it's like to have normal people problems, huh?" you whisper, your breath fanning over his neck. he'd love to kiss you senseless right now, but he's too tired and he's pretty sure you are too.

"yeah," he sighs, sounding relieved. "yeah. beats… beats the other stuff."

"even though it's really, really cold," you agree, smiling. he can hear the smile in your voice.

"even though it's really, really cold," he echoes. "it'll warm up."

he's right. this sort of thing passes. it gets better. the space heater serves its purpose, eventually warming the little bedroom enough that you can fall back asleep. the tile floor of the kitchen is hell in the morning, of course, and you spend the rest of the day in the library together after convincing the landlord to have everything fixed.

the weather warms too, and the relentless cloudiness fades into bright blue spring mornings. the blinds are always left closed on friday nights so that the rising sun won't wake you early on saturday mornings. it's been a blessing. sam still wakes up early sometimes, but sometimes he sleeps in late with you.

no alarms go off this morning; you and sam were up late last night watching a movie you found at the library. he really prefers vhs movies, but he'll settle pretty easily for cds. vhs is too hard to find these days, which is a shame. after the movie, you stayed up much later than intended, sprawled in bed while discussing the movie in depth. it was the sort of movie that was easy to watch, entertaining and pretty, but thought-provoking all the same. maybe it's because the mundane is something so special to you and sam that you could talk about it forever.

the blinds don't block out all the light, especially when it's so sunny like it is now. but it makes waking gentler and kinder while still letting you love the light of the morning.

gentle really is the right way to describe how you wake this morning. there's nothing particularly special about it, but that's what's so lovely. it's just a breath in, then a breath out and the fluttering of eyelids. it's a moment of peace, but the moment never ends. there's no threat of monsters or a hunt or the end of the world.

there's just sam and his heavy arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you, keeping you near him. there's sunlight on the white wall and a green plant in the corner of the room. pillows and blankets you call your own, a stuffed armchair, and a closet of clothes. sam wears sweaters and tshirts and sometimes even slacks rather than jeans these days. you can't stop telling him how handsome he looks when he's comfortable.

you don't move for a little while, and you let your eyes fall closed again. maybe you fall back asleep, maybe not. it doesn't really matter. nothing really matters, nothing but this. even if there's things like rent and jobs and a leaky sink. they don't have to matter until later.

then, because you're hopelessly in love, you open your eyes when they start to feel less heavy with sleep and turn to look at sam. there's no slight frown on his lips, no furrow to his pretty brows. he's content, he's safe, he's not so afraid anymore. if you were to count your blessings, his happiness would be the first thing to come to mind.

his body lets him rest without worry. staying up to talk about movies for fun is allowed now. it has no consequence, outside of a yawn or two while washing the dishes. but he gets to sleep in for as long as he'd like today.

maybe it's your staring that finally wakes him. the weight of your gaze, heavy with affection. the first thing he does when roused back into consciousness is smile. soft and sleepy and delighted to see you. then he kisses you. it would be without warning if he weren't moving so slowly. but you're ready for him, happy to have him.

this morning, he is insistent on having you close, so the moment his lips are no longer on yours, his arms are wrapping around your middle and holding you tight. he pulls you into him with a quiet grunt.

"good morning, sweetheart," he rumbles softly, lips brushing over the skin of your temple.

"good morning, love," you murmur back, voice just as sweet as his.

"i love you so much," he tells you, hand rubbing up and down the expanse of your back.

of course, you answer, "i love you, too. so much." his hand slips under your shirt, like you'll never be close enough, and touching your skin will make it better. you huff in protest and arch against him just a bit. his fingers are cold, but only for a moment. then you're melting into him and sighing in contentment.

"the weather's supposed to be nice. like yesterday. we could walk to the park," you whisper.

"later," he answers simply, ducking his head to press his nose to yours, then kiss the skin under your eye. "let's just lay here a while.

you can't help but grin. "okay. later." you kiss his cheek and he smiles back, then closes his eyes again. the smile stays on his face and you think that maybe he's never looked more beautiful than he does now.

"i love you," you say again, because you just have to.

he hums softly and his other hand slips under your shirt, his fingertips pushing gently into the plush of your lower back. "i love you," he echoes.

nothing aches, not right now. there's growing pains and old scars and sores that will never really go away. but in this moment, nothing aches save for the kind of ache that love gives. and it's a lovely sort of ache. the kind that could make your eyes all misty in the happy way. like you're so grateful to be where you are that it almost hurts.

magic is real. so are monsters and gods and demons and angels. but this moment is a miracle in a way that it has nothing to do with that sort of thing. it's simple and normal and maybe you've romanticized it because of the way you lived before. but you don't think that's such a bad thing. living like this with sam… it's natural.

[venuslarkspur]

IM KNAWING AT THE CAGES OF MY ENCLOSURE PLS RELEASE MORE OF TEEN TRINITY I BEG YOU

Okay y’all are right I’ve prolonged this series too long <3 (so here you go 💚)

Link to Part 1 - Robin Vs Wonder Girl

Teen Trinity Meet Up

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Wonder Girl!Reader (romantic), Jon Kent x Wonder Girl!Reader (platonic or romantic, but was written to be romantic)

Summary: After you finally return home after a long 3 year stay in the island of Themyscira, where you trained with the Amazons, you leave behind an old friend and once reunited are invited to join a new Superhero team consisting of You, Him and someone else, very much love triangle but not really.

Warning: Teenage flirting idk, Mild Misandry from the amazons.

Notes: OKAY I BARELY GOT THIS OUT BUT I NEED TO FEED YALL SO HERE WE GO <3

—————————

The fog was thick today, it made you miss Themyscira. It’s taking some getting used too, especially seeing boys again, you never told any of the Amazons about Damian. It was a bad idea, you could barely contain yourself being around him. You had a childish crush on him, but it’s been 3 years now and you hadn’t ended on the best note. But you were 13 then and couldn’t understand your feelings properly, your last meeting ended with you screaming at Damian to stop toying with your feelings; you thought you had something, turns out he was just like the mean boys at school.

Looking back you had overreacted, like seriously overreacted. You felt awkward seeing him again, but it was thanks to the Amazons you had this crush educated out of you; you even met some cute girls back on Themyscira, they were a bit older than you, you could tell since you were the only kid there but that didn’t stop you. What actually stopped you was the fact they weren’t Damian. The last thing you needed was a distraction, you were the future Wonder Woman god damn it!

But anyway enough bitching for today, you were ready to meet your new teammates today; sort of, you already met Damian of course. But you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Jon yet, you heard some mixed things from Damian a few years back; but that was it. You were curious to say the least.

—————————

You were now planted on one of the rooftops of Gotham, my god, you hated it here. It was awful, the air pollution, the smell, even the people. It wasn’t your go to place that’s for sure. You winced slightly at the bruises from the yesterday’s sparring session with Damian, turns out he had approved too. You dropped him on his ass eventually of course; but he still had some moves you weren’t expecting.

“Don’t jump off.” You heard a voice from behind and a swoosh of a cape, it was Damian. He’s so much chilled than before, what changed? Honestly you expected him to be taller, yeah you had some crazy Amazon genes but he was originally taller. You didn’t mind though, just wasn’t expecting it. You played with your tiara slightly and turned your head to face him, still sitting on the ledge. “Would you come after me?” You asked, tucking your hair behind your ear slightly. He grinned in amusement and sat down next to you. “You can fly now, remember? But yeah of course I would.” He said whilst pulling his gloves up. “Jon?” You asked. “He’ll be here soon.” And with that you directed your attention downwards.

Eventually he spoke again but let out a chuckle before speaking, “It’s funny, Themyscira has made you grow quite beautiful.” He said directing his attention towards you, your heart fluttered, you were finally getting the treatment you wanted. Just took 3 years to get there, it wasn’t as fulfilling as you thought though. Maybe it was because you had slowly fallen out of love with him, you couldn’t tell. But it didn’t make this any less sweet. And you had the urge to flirt back, if you could call it that. “What about you? You’re not looking so bad yourself.” You declared, with your tongue dragged across your front teeth. He looked away with a smirk, this made you question a LOT.

————————

Jon had arrived slightly later, as the three of you looked out from the rooftop, the tension from your previous conversation still held true. Jon frantically kept looking in between you two, feeling like he’d interrupted something…

Damian stayed nonchalant, you tried to desperately look the other way, praying, hoping Jon wouldn’t notice your blushing face. but Jon was dumbfounded. Had this meet up he arranged turned into him third wheeling you two? Gosh..

“So I spoke to my father.” Damian spoke up first, his stoic voice remained at its average pitch. You and Jon both peered your heads to look at him, your eyes wide. “He’s going to look into finding us a headquarters.” He smiled and you and Jon exchanged smiles whilst you muttered words of excitement. Finally having something to take your mind off Damian.

Before long, Damian had left you both together. You were getting ready to leave before something Jon said shocked you, “Are you and Damian a thing now or..” He said and smiled awkwardly; rubbing the back of his head. Your face turned out swiftly and you begun waving your arms in embarrassment

“No it’s nothing like that!” You blushed, and you both turned your gaze to nothing in particular, but just away from each other. Why is he asking that? Gosh did you two really look like that?! Will Jon gossip?! You haven’t exactly known him for long..

“Sorry I shouldn’t have assumed things..” He lets out a sigh, he made his way to edge of the rooftop, the faint stars in the sky made this all surreal. “I best be off.” He trailed, ready to fly off. But you had other plans. “Jon!” You exhaled, moving closer, almost running. He turned around and let out a “Hm? What’s wrong?” He asked, and you smiled at him. “It was just nice seeing you..” you muttered and he waved at you before turning again. “You too.” A blush on his face barely evident, at least not to you. And with a loud “whoosh!” He too was gone. But a question stayed on your mind..why did he care whether or not you were dating Damian?

————————

Taglist: @waterwyne @girlmachia @spacegirlfromearth @riaaavm

- SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER I RECENTLY LOST SOMEONE SO IM TRYING 💕

[gublernatural]

for pop star!reader, bringing him to the grammys perchance? i think it would be silly <3

i love this so im skipping ahead to post-situationship into full blown relationship stage with them <3 my fave duo (also reader is def inspired by my girl t swizzle at award shows and im not sorry about it.)

"you're sure?" you asked one more time, just before the car doors were to open. spencer, whose face was almost as red as the dress you were wearing, sent you an eager nod.

he was torn; stuck between being excited to be by your side, but terrified to be in such a public space. there were days where he was still in awe that he has been able to meet, fall in love with, and now date such a strong, hard-working lady, but days like today he is reminded how much the whole world has come to love his lover.

"then, let's go," you smiled at him, ushering him to step out of the car. he obliged, then reached his hand towards you, helping you out. "thank you," you smiled at him, quickly, and then guided him to the building’s entrance. you waved at your supporters as you walked, still marveling at the impact you’ve been able to make.

you two ended up being split, spencer dragged away to your designated table and you to the red carpet. you took photos and completed interviews as quickly as you could without being impolite. you couldn’t help but feel like you were longing to be back with spencer. despite all of the fun you were able to have, everything just felt better when he was around.

“there you are,” you smiled as you finally made your way to your seat. “how was the carpet?” he asked, sliding your chair out for you. you shrugged in response, turning your attention to the first performer to take the stage.

spencer spent most of the show watching you with starstruck eyes. it was evident, even to those watching from home, how deeply in love spencer truly was with you. there was a literal sparkle in eye as you danced along to each performer, completely and totally enjoying yourself. this was the happiest you'd been in a while. you felt pretty, were at a celebration, and had your favorite person in the world by your side. spencer being in a fancy suit that matched your dress and having his hair professionally done had nothing to do with it, of course.

"this was is yours, right?" spencer whispered into your ear as his arm slipped around your waist. he held you close in anticipation as they introduced your category: best new artist.

this was the biggest moment of your career thus far. sure, awards weren't everything to you, but being recognized for the work you'd put out in somewhere as important as the grammy's would feel so good. you nodded, anxiously, trying to use spencer's proximity to ground you. you hoped the camera that cut to you while you were being named amongst your competitors could see the nerves that were coursing through your veins.

"and the winner is," victoria monet, last year's winner, announced. the world around you turn to static as your name was called into the mic. spencer was up before you were, cheering. tears welled in your eyes, overcome with pride and gratefulness. you hugged spencer and your producer, before heading up to the stage.

"um," you hesitated into the mic after hugging victoria, "i did not think i was going to win this," you laughed. the crowd laughed as well. beyonce was laughing at you. taylor swift was laughing at you. spencer reid was laughing at you. this was the best moment of your life.

"everyone in this category is so amazing and i wish we could split this award eight different ways. thank you to anyone and everyone who has listened to my music and supported me so far. i would not be here if it weren't for you." the first tear slipped from your face and you quickly brought your empty tear up to wipe it.

"thank you to everyone who inspired me and my music, and anyone who laid a hand in creating it with me. my mind is so blank and i can't remember all of your names," everyone laughed again. "and thank you to those i love," your eyes slipped to your table in the crowd. the camera cut to spencer, who had the biggest smile on his face anyone had ever seen. "i wouldn't be here without you guys. thank you and i cannot wait to make more music for you." you ended with a gracious wave to the crowd and cameras, before dashing back to your table.

you threw yourself in spencer's arms again. his cheek smushed against your shoulder as he mumbled, "i'm so proud of you!" you didn't answer, but he felt your smile get impossibly wider against him. after your brief moment of affection, you settled back into his side, excited to see sabrina carpenter's performance.

[hanniescookie]

too many hobbies - YJH

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre - domestic au, fluff

warnings - use of pet names (baby for reader, hannie for jh), kissing, pure fluff, mentions of mild insecurities, and uhm yeah that's it ig

summary - everyone around you seems to be soaring, traveling and building perfect lives while you're surrounded by the love of your many hobbies that leaves you feeling a little confused at times. luckily, jeonghan is there to not let you feel insecure.

author's note - second fic and i'm sooo nervous even though i've been writing for 7 years already 😭 anyway, this is for the bbangi to my shingi @kissbyoon / baby you deserve all the love 🤍 i'm ltr sharing jeonghan w you so like gimme some love 😔☝🏻

-------------------------**~~**--------------------------

You slump tiredly into your couch for the first time in a while, closing your eyes as the setting sun reflects on your face from the large window. It's not everyday that your energy goes down, but inevitably, there are days like today when you want to isolate yourself from the world just a little bit.

The living room of your apartment is still messy with all the stuff — papers, scissors, crayons, and stationary of all sort — that you were using to make your boyfriend a gift card.

Your eyes scan all the stuff, and most importantly, the pretty purple and white gift card you completed before leaving for the dance studio. It looks meaningless now, not even slightly pretty to your eyes.

All you can think about is how your dance colleagues talked about their life plans a while ago – how their words sent you in a spiral of uncertainty about your own life.

"You all, please pray I pass the audition. Not for another second am I going to waste my time here!"

"You will! Trust yourself. I thought I was going nowhere until I got my job."

"But I have come to terms with the fact that dancing here won't get me anywhere, I'm probably gonna make use of my degree and apply at the law firm."

"Well of course, I just can't sit with my hobby for a lifetime. I'm pushing my age already, so I'm hoping for my promotion."

It isn't like you to ponder over words, but this conversation did make you feel overwhelmed. Maybe you are being sensitive, but seeing everyone else talk about their sorted life makes this mess in your living room a lot suffocating than it is.

You reach out, holding the gift card in your hands and staring at it for a while. It speaks ugly words to you — pointing fingers at you and calling you a loser.

Your fingers involuntarily curl into it, almost about to rip it apart when a pretty voice breaks your reverie.

"Oh my baby!!! Did you make that for me? Show me!"

Jeonghan appears beside you out of nowhere, making you blink at him in surprise as the card is nearly snatched from your hand. The awe on his face makes your heart soften. He reads the card — all silly little messages you had scribbled in there — his contagious smile broadening on his face.

Before you can say anything, he has wrapped you in his arms, squishing you into his large frame. "Why are you soooo sweet? What if I cry?"

You end up smiling against his chest, wrapping your arms around him with a sigh. He has managed to wash away any negative emotions you were facing a while ago so easily. "We all know you're not gonna cry that easily, hannie."

He pulls away just enough to meet your eyes, a constant smile plastered on his lips. "I appreciate that you know me well, but I fear you're not entirely aware of how much I love these little things you do."

Something in your chest flutters as your smile dims slightly, staring at this loveable man and his comforting existence. He didn't even need to give you a whole speech about how it's good that you're on your own pace, and you're doing great in life (he can provide you with words of affirmation if needed) yet you're already feeling like none of people's words matter. Because you're reminded of the fact that you're indeed exactly where you're meant to be, and you'll be where you're meant to be in the future too.

You press a feather-light kiss to his nose, "What little things?"

He grins, returning the gesture with a more firm kiss than yours. "These little gifts you make me. But that's not all I love about you, you know? I love all that you do. Your dance, your impromptu shower singing, those stories you write in your laptop — I love all of it. Never quit on any of your hobbies. They make you, you."

It isn't like you to cry easily as well, but when you feel the sight of your pretty boyfriend blurring a little, you know you have tears in your eyes. He furrows his brows, instant concern spreading all over his features.

His hand cups your cheek softly. "Baby? What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"

You sniff, and close your eyes for a second so the tear residing there falls past your cheek. Then you shake your head. "Never." You breathe. "You can never say anything wrong, hannie. In fact, you only ever say everything right. Everything to make me feel special."

He doesn't seem convinced given that he still doesn't smile. He just continues to look at you, trying to detect signs of distress. "Baby—"

You giggle a little, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. "Don't worry. I just got a little emotional because of what you said. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

You nod, feeling his thumb wipe at the lone tear that had fallen before he finally breaks into his signature teasing grin. "Who's the one easily crying now?"

You roll your eyes despite the smile on your face, "Stop being so cocky."

"You love it." He grins, kissing you briefly because he couldn't resist it. You hum, and chase his lips the moment he pulls away. He wants to tease, but right now he's going to give you what you want so he smiles and kisses you back.

If it's with Jeonghan and his gravitational comfort, you know you'll get everywhere you want to be in life.

[graceface1712]

The First of Many

SoftRafexSweetPougePrincess First Date!

Summary: Rafe take’s SweetPougePrincess on their first date!

Warnings: None! Just fluff

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y/N impatiently paced back and forth in her tiny living room waiting for Rafe’s arrival. It is 5:58 right now. He should be here in two minutes. Every time she glances up at the clock, time seems to be going slower. But long enough, a knock echoes from her front door.

She rushes to it, gripping the handle, but pausing and taking a deep breath.

You’ll be fine.

Y/N swings the door open and there stands Rafe. He’s wearing a pair of black shorts and a white polo shirt to go with it.

He’s holding a bouquet of flowers, an assortment of lilies, her favorite.

“Hi.” He says, laughing at her look of pure awe.

“Hi Rafe.” Y/N says.

He now takes a moment to drink her in. She’s wearing a patchwork sundress, covered in various colors. She has a denim jacket resting on her shoulders and some beat up light pink converse. He can see a hole in the toe of her left shoe.

“You look amazing.” Rafe says breathlessly.

“Thank you.” Y/N giggles, a blush spreading on her cheeks.

Rafe looks down at the flowers he’s holding. “Oh! These are for you.” He says handing them to Y/N.

“Thank you Rafe. I'll put these in some water and I’ll be right back.” She says before disappearing into the house. She emerges a minute later with a bright smile on her face.

“You ready?” Rafe asks her.

“Yup! Let’s go!” Y/N says while bounding down the steps of her shabby house to the door of his truck.

But Rafe was not having it.

“Hey slow down.” He says taking long strides after her and quickly letting where she was at.

“What?” Y/N stops in her tracks and turns to face him. He has a look of determination in his eyes but she doesn’t know exactly why.

“I have to open your door for you.” He says in a ‘duh’ tone. Brushing past her and reaching his truck door. He opens the door and she climbs in. Once she is situated in her seat, Rafe leans over her to help her buckle her seat belt. The smell of his expensive cologne filling her nostrils.

“I can do…” Y/N starts to argue but immediately closes her mouth after seeing the look on Rafe’s face. No room for argument.

“Thank you.” Y/N says shyly, looking down at her lap. Once again, a rosy tint covering her cheeks.

“Of course.” Rafe says before tapping her hip and then shutting her door. He quickly walks over to his side and gets in. But he doesn’t miss the now red shade of blush on her face. Smiling to himself, he starts to back out of his driveway, throwing one arm around the back of Y/N’s seat and looking through the back mirror.

Y/N dang near folds right then and there in her seat. That was so hot.

While Y/N is lost in her own thoughts, Rafe takes a moment to really look at Y/N’s house. It’s very small, basically the size of a trailer. It’s located in one of the roughest parts of the Cut. Many people are known for having shitty houses in the Cut, but this area is known for the worst ones.

The outside is made out of metal paneling, and it’s light blue in color. It has grass stains going up the side of it, and her porch looks like it could break with one wrong step. The best part about her house is the closeness to the beach. It’s right on the water. But other than than, it’s probably the size of Rafe’s bedroom alone.

Rafe would usually judge someone based on their house, but not Y/N. He doesn’t understand how she can come from such a shithole and still be the kindest human he’s ever met.

Rafe glances over at Y/N. She’s peacefully staring out at the soft waves lapping against the shore. He can tell that she loves the beach.

Rafe decides to break the silence. “So tell me some more things about yourself. Something that not everybody knows about you.”

Her head whips around from its resting spot. Y/N looks like she’s thinking.

“Well umm. My mom passed away when I was eight years old. She’s the kindest and nicest human being ever. I try my best to be like her. To make her proud.” Y/N says and a look of fondness crosses her face. Rafe’s eyes soften. He knows what it’s like not having a good mother figure in his life. Rose is the worst and he cannot stand her.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He tells her sincerely. She just nods.

“It’s okay, I’ve learned to live with it. Your turn.”

Rafe can’t say he’s surprised. He looks out the front window while passing through the streets of OBX.

“Umm. I used to be super addicted to drugs.” Rafe starts and Y/N sucks in a breath. He gets worried that she might not want to continue hanging out with him but her face tells him to go on.

“It was bad. So bad. Like I couldn’t go a day without snorting a line of cocaine and shit. My dad was mad at first but then he was done with my shit. He sent me to a rehab facility. I got into shape real quick.” Y/N reaches over to grab Rafe’s free hand and immediately warmth spreads throughout his body.

“It took me five months to finally be clean. Normal. That was honestly the proudest I’ve ever seen my father of me. And his reaction to me being clean is the reason I still am today. And not to mention, I just feel better. I was a crazy mother fucker back then. I know why people couldn’t stand me. I don’t ever blame them for hating me now.” Rafe finishes.

They come to a red light and Y/N squeezes his hand. “Thank you for being so vulnerable. I know it’s hard.” She says.

“And I’m proud of you too. For changing. For being a better person. If other people can’t be proud too, that’s their fault.”

He looks at her and smiles, his chest full of pride. And a light pink tinges his cheeks.

“Now. Let’s go have fun on our date!” Y/N giggles and squeezes Rafe’s hand again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Rafe pulled into a parking lot. Y/N looked up from their hands to see multiple tents and stands set up.

“You brought me to a farmers market?” She asked him. Rafe looked over at her and smiled.

“Yeah. You said last night how much you love supporting local businesses. So what better way to do it than here?” He tells her.

Y/N’s heart just melts into a puddle. She couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t remember that small thing she mentioned. She loves getting out and supporting the small business in OBX, but it can be hard when she has other priorities for the little money she gets every month.

Before she can say thank you, Rafe is already out the door of his truck and opening hers. She scrambles to unbuckle and grabs his outstretched hand to jump out.

“I’m so excited. I haven’t been to a farmers market in so long!” She exclaims.

“Well pick out whatever you want. I read that there are some things here that I think you’ll like.” Rafe says.

Y/N squints in the sun trying to look at Rafe’s face. He has to be at least a foot taller than her so it’s quite a challenge.

“Rafe. You don’t have to spend a ton of money on me.” She grumbles. She finally catches his eye and he’s giving her that look again.

“I will spend however much I want on you Y/N. It’s no big deal.” Rafe says before taking her hand and leading her through the stands.

They end up stopping at a stand that has cute little journal and book covers. They are hand sewn and have multiple different patterns and designs. Rafe tells Y/N to pick out whatever ones she wants. She hesitantly gets two, one for her current book that she’s reading, and one for her journal.

Then Rafe sees a person selling handmade jewelry. He insists that Y/N picks out a few pieces. She ends up picking up a ring made from sea glass, and a necklace that has a starfish charm on it.

Y/N is trying to refuse the things that Rafe is to buying for her, but all it takes is one reminder from him that it’s for the small business and she crumbles.

He ended up seeing a dress that he thinks she will look amazing in. The sweet old woman who was selling them had a sign up saying she was selling her handmade dresses in order to pay for her chemo therapy treatment. Y/N’s heart shattered while seeing that because her mom passed away from breast cancer.

She quickly agreed to buy not one, but three dresses. While she was searching for two more, Rafe couldn’t help but notice Y/N’s reaction to the sign. It was much more than just sympathy. So while Y/N was browsing, Rafe leaned down and asked for the woman’s name and phone number. He would be in contact with the hospital about paying off all of her treatments, and anything else she might need.

Rafe also paid for the dresses and once again saw the look of absolute despair on Y/N’s face. She eventually cheered up though after seeing a vendor who had crocheted stuffed animals. She picked up two sea turtles. One with a little pink bow crocheted in, and the other one with a little grumpy face.

“Look Rafe! It’s us!” She giggled loudly at her joke. He playfully scowled but handed the vendor the correct amount of money and threw a 50 in the tip jar.

Again, Y/N literally had no idea how he could just spend money like this. But since it was helping small businesses, she was okay with it.

Y/N continued to drag Rafe through every single stand in the farmers market. She made them stop at every one because she claimed that ‘you never know what they might have to offer’. Rafe happily went along with her because he got to see her eyes light up every time she started a conversation with someone. And because her arm was wrapped around his bicep the whole time.

Eventually Y/N had successfully went through every stand with Rafe and they walked back to his truck.

While he drove her home, Rafe kept his hand tightly held in hers, and she wasn’t complaining.

Rafe pulled up into her driveway. He turned to look at her.

“Do you need any help with your bags?” He asks her. Y/N shakes her head while digging through one of the bags.

“No. But here, don’t forget your stuffie!” She says while shoving the turtle into his hands. He takes it and puts it right in his lap.

“Thank you Rafe. For everything you bought me today. And for just spending time with me.” Y/N says sincerely.

“You’re welcome. I’ll try to find you on the island, but if I can’t, I’ll come visit you here. I’ll see you soon.” He tells her.

“Bye Rafey!” She yells. All he can do is scowl because before he knows it, she’s slamming his truck door shut and laughing to herself the whole way up her porch.

Rafe waits until Y/N gets back inside safely, before pulling out of her driveway.

Yeah. He could get used to this.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

I’m like so proud of myself for this one! 🫶🏻

Thank you guys for the love!

[vandme12]

hear me out

ronin walking in on his darling listening to recordings of his voice. how would he react?

Devil on Repeat

The apartment is too quiet without him. It always is.

You try to fill the silence—music, TV, podcasts—but nothing sticks. Nothing hums in your bones the way he does. So, really, it’s not creepy. It’s just… coping.

Your finger hovers over the folder labeled ‘goreboy.wavs’, half-embarrassed even though you’re alone. A little treasure trove, collected piece by piece—snippets of his voice from late-night calls, glitched-out recordings he’s dropped in the chat, and that one unhinged rant about moral relativism he left on your voicemail at 3 AM.

And maybe you play them more often than you should. Maybe his voice has become something like nicotine, curling around your lungs in a way that’s addictive, dangerous, and a little too good. But hey—you miss him. And he is a comfort. Even if the comfort in question would happily dissect a man just to watch his heart stutter out.

The recording crackles to life.

"Aww, did I make you blush? Don’t worry, darlin’—I’d blush too if I were thinking about me."

You bury your face in your hands. God, he’s unbearable.

And yet… you press play on the next one.

"Y’know, for someone so sweet, you’ve got the most deliciously wicked little thoughts. I should be concerned. I’m not. I’m proud."

A breath shudders out of you, tension bleeding from your shoulders as his voice thrums warm and low in your ears. You could close your eyes and almost pretend he’s here—stretching out on your couch like he owns the place, knife twirling between clever fingers. But he’s not, and the ghost of him isn’t enough, so you play another.

"Miss me?"

The recording is barely a whisper, rough-edged and intimate. It’s unfair, really, the way he sounds like sin spun into sound. And, okay, maybe you replay that one a little more often. Just to hear it. Just because—

"Y’know," a familiar voice drawls behind you, smooth and wicked, "If you wanted to hear my voice that bad, darlin’, all you had to do was ask."

Oh, fuck.

Your heart slams against your ribs as you whirl around, and there he is—leaning in the doorway like a devil straight out of your dreams, all sharp teeth and sharper eyes. His horns catch the light as he tilts his head, and that smile—that smile—could peel the skin from your bones.

You scramble to pause the recording, too late, and the sound of his own voice still hangs thick in the air. His grin stretches wider. "Really? That one?"

"I—" Your throat is dry. "It’s not—"

"It’s not creepy," he finishes for you, voice dripping mock-sweet. "Nah, sweetheart. Just adorable. You missed me that much, huh?"

The worst part is, he’s not even mad. If anything, he looks delighted—like you’ve gifted him some precious little secret to tuck under his tongue and savor.

You try—try—to salvage your dignity. "I was just—"

"Just missin’ me," he purrs, pushing off the doorframe. His boots are soundless against the floor as he crosses the room, lazy and predatory, until he’s crowding into your space. "Aw, darlin’… if I knew you were gettin’ this lonely, I’d’ve come home sooner."

His hand slides under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Too close. Too warm. You can feel the heat of him bleeding through your skin, burning you from the inside out.

"You’re enjoying this way too much," you mutter, but it comes out breathless.

He chuckles, dark and indulgent. "Of course I am. My sweet little thing, sittin’ here all alone, playin’ my voice on repeat? That’s the best ego boost I’ve had all week." His thumb brushes the curve of your jaw, deceptively gentle. "Gonna confess how many times you’ve listened, or should I guess?"

You refuse to dignify that with a response.

He laughs—bright and reckless, like you’ve said something funny—and you hate how much you love the sound of it. How much you missed it.

"You’re lucky I think it’s cute," he says, and then—because he’s a menace—he reaches past you to press play.

"Miss me?" his voice whispers again, syrup-sweet.

"Y’know," he murmurs, real and right here, "It’s better live."

Your face is burning. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," he croons, eyes glinting. "You’re obsessed with me."

You should push him away. You should deny it. But your resolve crumbles when he tips your chin higher and leans in close enough for his breath to ghost across your lips.

"So," he murmurs, wicked and warm, "How bad did you miss me, darlin’?"

"Not that bad," you lie, and the smile that breaks across his face is devastating.

"Liar."

The next kiss isn’t soft. It’s a claim—teeth and heat and all the time you’ve been apart poured into the press of his mouth against yours. His hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back, and you let him take—steal—whatever he wants. Because this is the truth between you, raw and undeniable: you missed him. And he missed you too.

He pulls back just enough to breathe you in, thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. "Keepin’ my voice like that," he muses, half-laughing. "God, you’re precious. ‘M gonna start leavin’ you messages on purpose—hell, maybe a whole bedtime story. Would you like that, sweetheart?"

Your stomach flips. "You wouldn’t."

"Oh, I would," he promises, delighted at the thought. "Every night. Just for you. Somethin’ to keep you warm while I’m gone."

He’s still teasing, still playing—but there’s an edge of something real beneath it, something raw and hungry and yours.

And maybe it’s stupid, but you want to keep it. Want to press your fingers to the pulse of him and feel it beat against your skin.

"You’re ridiculous," you say softly.

His smile gentles—just a fraction. "Yeah. But I’m your ridiculous. Don’t forget it."

He kisses you again, softer this time, but no less possessive. And when he finally pulls back, you’re left dizzy, breathless, and aching in a way that no recording could ever match.

"So," he drawls, like he hasn’t just wrecked you, "Gonna play me another one?"

"Get out."

He laughs, bright and reckless, and doesn’t move an inch.

[estrellami-1]

March Mating Madness

Day 1: Courting Rituals

I’ll Do (Anything for You)

Ao3 Link

This is a part of the Tell Me ‘verse! This fic takes place during Tell Me (Just Enough), but can be read as a standalone fic.

“So,” Eddie starts. They’re sitting on his couch, and he’s holding Steve’s hands. This feels strangely like an intervention, and Steve’s getting nervous.

“Um,” he says. He thinks his hands are getting sweaty. He knows he’s probably scenting something awful. “Yeah?”

“Nothing bad,” Eddie promises. “Just. You know you didn’t get to be courted the way you deserve.”

Steve softens. “Eddie, I don’t care about any of that. I have your vest, I have your bite-”

“No, I- I know, sweetheart. I know you got used to getting less than you deserve and I know this is normal to you now, but I will never stop trying to make you understand that just because that’s how it was doesn’t meant it’s how it should be. Because how it should be is you should have a whole lot more gifts than you do. I gave you the vest because you ripped up your shirt to make bandages, darling, not because I like the way you look in it. Though,” he grins, “I do like the way you look in it.”

Steve sighs. “So that’s it? You’re going to court me? And I get no say in the matter?”

“Um.” Eddie squints. “Do you… not want to be courted?”

“Well,” Steve draws out, which means he does and is being a little shit about it. Eddie grins. “If you’ve already decided, then there’s no reason for me to care either way, is there?”

Eddie chuckles. “Just you wait, baby, I’m’a blow your socks off.”

Steve chuckles back. “I can’t wait.”

“First things first,” Eddie says, and takes off a ring, “Steven Elias Harrington, I’ve come to state my intent to formally court you. By accepting this ring, you will be accepting my courtship. I will swear, as your Alpha, to always keep you safe, healthy, and happy, to the best of my abilities. I will swear, as your Alpha, to provide for your every need and want. I will swear, as your Alpha, a safe place to lay your head at night, and a safe place to rear any and all pups you may want. If this pleases you, then please, accept my first token, so I may begin courting you.”

“Why the fuck am I crying,” Steve wonders, laughing at himself even as he takes the ring. “Of course I’ll accept your courtship, Eddie.”

Eddie, kneeling on the ground in front of the couch, does a goofy little fist pump and reaches for a tissue for Steve. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “Good tears. Come cuddle me?”

“Always,” Eddie agrees immediately, clambering onto the couch behind Steve.

Steve relaxes back onto him, letting out a sigh and going boneless. “Y’know something?” He murmurs.

“What’s that?”

“You feel just right. The couch hurts my back a little, no matter what pillows I add or take away. But you fit every bump of my spine perfectly. ‘S like I was made for you.”

“I’m choosing to believe you were,” Eddie murmurs. “There’s gotta be some reason we’re scent-compatible.”

Steve snickers. “I guess so.” He snuggles into Eddie. “Tell me?” He asks quietly.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him immediately, whispering it into the nape of his neck.

“Baby,” Eddie calls, skipping into the Harrington house one day. “I’ve got something for you!”

“Oh,” Steve says, “Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie frowns. “You don’t sound too good, baby, are you feeling okay?”

Steve sniffles, shakes his head. Grabs a tissue and blows his nose. “‘S just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t doubt it, sweetheart, but why don’t we get you in bed? I’ll make you Wayne’s trailer park-famous chicken noodle soup.”

“Don’t wanna be in bed,” he says. “‘S boring.”

“Then how about we camp out on the couch? Make a quick little nest here, I can grab some things from upstairs for you, and you can convalesce on the couch where you can watch movies. Does that work?”

Steve considers it, then nods. “You said you have something for me?”

“Ah,” Eddie says, “yes, right, here-” he holds up a bag. “I, uh, know they’re not super high quality, but… well, I know you get migraines a lot, and sunglasses are supposed to help. Is what I was told.”

Steve sniffles. His eyes look more watery than before. “Eddie,” he says, then doesn’t say anything, just stares at Eddie with big teary eyes. Eddie starts to panic.

“Do you hate them? I can return them! I can- I didn’t spend that much, honest, and maybe it’s a shit courting gift but-”

Steve shakes his head, pulls Eddie into a hug. Scent-marks him. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie relaxes, supports him in the hug best he can. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “Now go sit down, baby, I’ll make you some food, okay?”

“M’kay.” Steve sniffles. “Is food gonna be part of courting?”

Eddie chuckles. “I guess it usually is, isn’t it? Do you want it to be part of courting? I had a plan for that, but if you’d rather skim through, we can do that too.”

Steve shakes his head. “I want whatever you’ve got planned.”

Eddie smiles, presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Then maybe this’ll halfway count,” he tells Steve. “Maybe when you’re feeling better I’ll stay the night. Maybe I’ll wake up before you, sneak downstairs, and make a full spread. What do you want? Pancakes? Waffles? French toast? Fuckin’… the little French pancakes?”

Steve giggles. “They’re called crepes.”

“Crepes, then.”

Steve giggles again. “Pancakes maybe?”

“Pancakes I can do.”

“Maybe… maybe we could have blueberry and chocolate chip?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, “I’ll give you anything in the entire world you could ask for, but blueberry and chocolate chip?” He shakes his head. “Now you’ve gone too far, baby, it’s turning into anarchy, seriously, blueberry and chocolate chip? Alert the media. Call CNN.”

Steve giggles into Eddie’s neck. “So… just blueberry?”

“Baby, I’d invent flavors for you if you said you wanted dragonberry. You want blueberry and chocolate chip? I’ll put both in the same damn cake if you want ‘em.”

Steve giggles again. “No, just separate.”

“I can do separate,” Eddie promises him. “Any other requests?”

Steve peeks out from Eddie’s neck to peer up at him. “Hashbrowns?”

“Oh, baby, now you’re speakin’ my language! Hell yeah we can do hashbrowns!” He grins at Steve’s giggle, then presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead, then one to each of his cheeks for good measure. “Now go sit down,” he tells the omega. “I’ll go grab nest things from upstairs. Anything in particular you want?”

“Robin’s flannel,” he says immediately. “And…” he bites his lip, worries it, shakes his head. “That’s it, I think.”

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs. “Remember how I’d invent flavors for you?”

A giggle. “Yeah?”

“Tell me what you want. Whatever it is, I can get it for you.”

“There’s a black blanket? It’s really soft but it’s kinda near the bottom.”

“I know the one,” Eddie promises. “You want a pillow too?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not while I’ve got you to be my pillow.”

“Always,” Eddie promises, pushing him toward the couch and moving past it up the stairs.

He grabs the things Steve requested, then pauses, pulls his t-shirt off, pulls his undershirt off—a beat-up old faded black tank top— and puts the t-shirt onto a pillow.

He rummages through Steve’s pajama drawer, grabs a t-shirt that boasts something about the whitest beaches, and slips it on.

He makes his ways back downstairs with his bounty, handing over first the blanket, then Robin’s flannel. At Steve’s questioning look, he hands over the last two items. “My t-shirt on a pillow, for while I’m cooking, and my undershirt. It should have more scent on it, even if your nose is too stuffed up to really smell, this one should scent some.”

Steve’s eyes go big and watery again. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie smiles, cups his cheek, presses a long kiss to his forehead. “I think,” he murmurs, “there’s very little I wouldn’t give you already. And I think I’m only a little bit in love with you, compared to how I could be. How I will be.”

Steve nuzzles into Eddie’s hand in response, then leans back and gazes at Eddie with such unabashed love in his eyes that Eddie has to look away, has to head to the kitchen and start cooking, so he can blame the flush in his cheeks on the heat from the stove.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs in sing-song, peeking into his room. Steve’s awake, if just barely, light dappling over his back, eyes blinking in long, slow sweeps as he fights the siren’s call. He rouses himself a little, sleep-clumsily turns onto his side, humming at Eddie, who walks in with a little coo and kneels at the side of the bed. “Did I wake you?”

Steve hums again, extends a hand to grab at Eddie’s shirt; not to pull, just to hold, to anchor. “Eddie,” he murmurs, which both is and isn’t an answer. “Y’here.”

“I am here,” Eddie agrees, brows furrowing a little. “Have a bad dream, sweetness?”

Steve hums, fists Eddie’s shirt again, tighter. “Not… bad. Jus’… not good.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eddie murmurs, petting over Steve’s fist. “How can I fix it?”

“Y’are,” Steve tells him, tiredly earnest. “Y’here.”

Eddie’s heart explodes into a million pieces. “I am,” he whispers. “I’ll always be here, if you need me.”

Steve hums, squints at Eddie’s neck, but doesn’t want to let go of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie does it for him, dragging his hand up first to kiss, then to slide over his scent gland.

“Y’scent different,” Steve mumbles. “More… flowery.”

Eddie chuckles. “I don’t think that’s me, baby.” He holds up a bouquet. “I think it’s your next courting gift.”

Steve smiles blearily at them. “Never gotten flowers before.” He kicks his way out of his blankets, gets tangled for a second and releases a truly, unfairly cute whine before extricating himself, sitting up and balancing on Eddie while his tired brain lags. “You got me flowers,” he whispers, reverent hand coming up to pet along a petal.

“I did,” Eddie agrees giddily.

Steve nudges the flowers aside, falls into Eddie’s chest, nuzzles into his neck. “Thank you.”

Eddie presses a kiss to the crown of Steve’s head, drags a hand over his hair and down his back. “You’re very welcome, baby. How about I put these in water and make you those pancakes? Blueberry and chocolate chip, right?”

Steve nods into his neck. “Wanna go with you.”

“Absolutely you can come with me,” Eddie agrees. “Are you gonna walk or am I gonna carry you?”

Steve’s hands come up to circle his neck even as he says, “I can walk.”

“I know you can,” Eddie murmurs, sliding his hands around Steve’s waist. “But what if I wanna carry you?”

“M’kay,” Steve agrees, pressing a kiss into Eddie’s neck. “You can. If you want to.”

“So generous,” Eddie snickers, and does, carries him down to the kitchen and puts him on the counter, pulls away with a long, sweet kiss to grab the pancake mix.

They’re back in the trailer. Steve’s got the day off and is tackling their room. Eddie’s clothes are still strewn about the place after that harried call to Wayne had him dumping the boxes and bringing them to Loch Nora. Steve’s things are nearly all put away now, but Eddie’s are still all over the place, so that’s what Steve’s working on.

Eddie’s at work, a half day at the shop, so he’ll be home just after lunch.

Steve loses track of time in their room, meaning he’s neck-deep in the closet and still hasn’t had lunch by the time Eddie walks in. “Baby,” he calls, and Steve narrowly misses hitting his head on the door as he sits back.

“Room!” He calls, even though the trailer walls are thin and he can hear Eddie heading that direction already.

Eddie’s smiling as he walks in. “Hey, baby, what’re you doing in here?” He crouches down for a quick kiss and scent mark, accepting the same back.

Steve sighs. “Just trying to organize a little. Get our room back in order.”

“Baby, this is my shit, I’ll do it. C’mon, have you eaten?”

“Getting you to organize is like pulling your toenails out, Eds, I actually like it. I’ll do it. No, I lost track of time, but I can make something real quick if you’re hungry?”

Eddie grins, shakes his head. “Nah, Flo brought something in for the guys, and I snacked between cars. C’mon, baby, lemme take care of you, what do you want to eat?”

Steve hums. “Mac and cheese? Or… do we have any hamburger helper?”

“We should,” Eddie nods. “If not, we definitely have Spam, I can add some of that to some mac?”

Steve nods. “That sounds great. Thanks, Alpha.”

Eddie nuzzles him. “Any time, omega.” He presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead and heads out to the kitchen, and Steve continues cleaning with the background noises of Eddie making him lunch.

Soon enough the noises slow, and not long after Eddie brings him a bowl.

Steve eats while Eddie putters around, putting away a few things, before stilling at the dresser. “Baby?”

“Hm?”

Eddie turns around, joins him on the bed. “So, obviously for courting gifts, the last one, the biggest one, is usually a piece of clothing.”

“Right.”

“And I’ve already given you my vest.” His lips quirk up. “I’d argue I’ve given you my whole closet,” he says, nodding down at Steve’s outfit, which consists entirely of Eddie’s clothes. Steve shrugs, because he knows Eddie loves it. “So I have something else for you, instead. If you want it.”

“Okay.”

Eddie reaches up, unclasps his necklace, and offers it to Steve. “The pick was my mom’s,” he whispers. “The first one I ever used to learn guitar. After she passed, Wayne kept teaching me. For the longest time, I thought of it as a good luck charm. Like if I wore it, the band would have a good show.”

“Then you should keep it.”

Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “The band’s done. We weren’t going anywhere anyways, and especially after the accusations…” he shrugs. “Besides, I have you now. And you’re better than any good luck charm.”

“Flirt,” Steve mutters, but his cheeks are pink as he touches the necklace. “You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t, baby.”

Steve smiles, ducks his head. “Okay.” He brings his hand up to touch the pick as Eddie secures the necklace. When Eddie sits back, Steve pulls him in again for a kiss.

“Just for the record,” he murmurs when they pull back, “if we weren’t mated, I would’ve accepted all of your gifts.”

At that, Eddie grins and pulls him into another kiss.

They can always finish cleaning tomorrow.

[smallestapplin]

It won’t come off

Warnings : first contact au, major character death (reader dies), Bee and reader are close despite the language barrier, could be read as platonic or romantic. Italicized dialogue means only one understand.

This was commissioned by : @bellafragolina

Word count : 1,596

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You were just so small compared to him, to see someone so tiny and squishy he couldn’t believe his optics! You looked up at the towering mech in a mix of awe and fear, you didn't even come up to his knees, he's so massive to you. You speak yet he can’t understand you, he can see your intake moving but it's a bunch of cute mutters and squeaks to his audials, but that’s okay!

“Don’t worry little buddy I got you. Oh primus, this is great! I get to show you around, I’m sure A-a-tron and Steve will love ya!”

He’s gentle with you despite his excitement, picking you up with care and even taking you small little space craft with him. You don’t understand anything he says, it sounds like whirls beeps and clanking to you, but that should be fine, right? It’s clear he’s a sentient robot of sorts, you wish you could communicate and ask.

But with how damaged your space craft is, you don’t think that would be possible.

You two swiftly fall into a routine, he works and you scavenge around for any metals you can use to repair your ship, though you’re glad you still had food and supplies on board. You don’t get a lot of time to do so, however, this mech loves talking to you even if you can’t understand him, you can hear his tone.

It’s cute how he lights up when you answer, it gets him rambling that much more. Being down here with no light, unable to tell how long you’ve been here, makes it hard to keep track of how long you’ve been missing, surely communications back home would try to find you, right? Looking back at the yellow bot you smile, maybe being stuck here isn’t so bad, though you’re not sure how much food and water you have left or how long it’ll last you.

Though over the course of your stay you’ve picked up on a few words, one of which at least part of his name, the look of joy that crosses his face and the whirling metal sound which you could only think was a squeal, lets you know he’s overjoyed to hear you call him ‘Bee.’ Though he has a much harder time with your language, you can hear him call you ‘little buddy’ all the time, it’s adorable in your eyes, it worries you a little how long he must’ve been here alone.

You heard it first, the sound of something falling? Maybe it’s because everything on this planet is so much louder, but you hid in the hole in Bee’s chest plate not wanting to take chances. You hear Bee coo at you, placing a hand over where you hid, thinking you’re just so cute. Only moments later do you hear talking, and Bee excitedly rambling as your name pops up a few times.

You wish you could understand them better.

“Little buddy? Orion, please, he’s insane.”

“Dee, be nice, he can help us find a way out!”

“Oh yeah, sorry little buddy is just shy! I mean I don't blame them for how small they are, but they are so cute! Best company ever. Now that you two are here we can have massive sleepovers, dude it’ll be great-“

Even from Bee’s chest you can hear the annoyance of one of them. Being able to hear things but not see them is horrifying as you can recognize the panic in their voices, the sadness, the anger, feel when Bee is running and freaking out. Just what is happening out there? You almost didn’t want to leave the safety of Bee’s chest plate, it was safer here, and he’d protect you!

B127 cringes, looking like a guilt turbofox as Alpha Trion and now the others stare at him, yeah having a cog would be so cool! But where would his little buddy stay? you’re too close to where his cog would go, too close to-

“H-hey, you can’t just-“

“An organic?” From the open chest plate Alpha Trion holds you up, such a small little thing, fleshy and squishy.

You shake under the new bots' glazes, all of them staring you down, some in awe, some in curiosity, some in bewilderment, but the large purple one is not easy to read like they are, or even like Bee is. The yellow bot reaches for you as you shakily call his name, your voice as small as you are, and quaking in fear at this newcomer.

“They are my friend, you can’t just take them!” Even as nervous as he is, he refuses to let you get taken from him, he can protect you just fine.

Alpha Trion glances between you and the newly fogged yellow bot, before carefully handing you back to him. You cling to Bee’s zero, just as he clings to you, holding you close to his helm and trying to mutter soothing things to you.

“I see you are fond of them, but let it be known this entire world can hurt them or worse, they are too soft to handle this place on their own. And with your next journey ahead, I fear what may happen to them.”

Though the older cybertronian warns him, Bee holds you closer.

“I can protect them! I have up to this point, even before all this, they are my little friend, we spent so much time in the mines together, they even learned how to say a nickname for me!”

Their usual silly cybertronian was determined, optics narrowed filled with promise that nothing could get between him and you. Though Alpha Trion was not convinced, merely giving a solemn nod before the first blaster set off. Back into Bee’s spark chamber you went, and they went running once more, trying to figure out their new T-cogs. You groan at the whiplash from going to sit in Bee’s spark chamber, to a driver’s seat, back to the spark chamber, and constantly flipping between a soft blue and the chaos happening outside.

When everything finally goes still you wish it made you calm down, but it only made you worry more, Bee was never quiet, there was always sound around you, his humming, his chatter, the sound of his work around you, nothing was ever still like this. Yet you stay put, Bee is the only one you trust, he’d keep you guarded.

When the sound returns you breathe a sigh of relief, even if it sounded angry, at least Bee was talking.. all this adventuring has made you tired and hungry, you can’t wait to go back to the mines and back to your ship. You nuzzle against the blue pulsing thing in his chest plate with you, briefly noting how Bee’s voice shakes as you do so.

He speaks to you, yet you can only understand him saying ‘not’, maybe if you wait a little more you two can get things settled. Bee tried but taking on so many bots at once in such chaos, and trying to help Orion and Elita out was overwhelming, but he’d do it, he can’t let anyone down when they’ve done so much for him.

It was a slip up, he didn’t get the blast coming but it didn’t go too deep in his plating, he can still fight!…what is all this red stuff leaking from his chest plate? It’s no oil he’s ever seen before. His spark sank, swiftly taking cover from all the fire to rip his spark chamber open and pull you out.

You’re weak.

It hurts to move.

Your pained whimper makes his eyes leak, you can hear him frantically muttering to you, comming someone like Orin for help, but you can’t take it, he sounds so upset.

You place a hand to his face plate, softly speaking to him trying to settle his nerves, but it's just making him cry that much harder. You’re certain he’s apologizing, for what you aren’t sure, but you’re just happy to have met him and seen life beyond your stars.

“It’s okay…I’m here. Bee, please don’t…don’t feel bad.” You know he can’t understand your words, your languages apart, but the love for him united you both.

Your eyes feel heavy, but he needs you, you know he does, he’s your friend, you can’t leave him. Orion appears in view, saying something to Bee but the yellow bot lets out a wail, not wanting to let you go, you’re hurt, you need him!

You’re human.

You’re soft, just like Alpha Trion said.

This world was against you, such small thinsg to them would be the end of you.

If only Bee had taken it to spark to realize just how fragile his squishy friend was, he was sure you’d never get hurt.

Some friend, he is, right, little buddy?

Yet your body is limp, you aren’t answering his ever growing yells of your little name, you can’t leave him, you can’t…

Orion places a servo on Bee’s shoulder, letting his friend grieve such a heavy loss. You would want him to live, to fight on, protect anyone from your fate. But the larger bot stays quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself as Bee refuses to let your limp body go.

And he’d have to until you can have a proper going away after they stop this madness.

But he can’t let you go, even placing your body in his spark chamber again and weeps. You’re limp, you’re losing your warmth.

And this red stuff won’t come off.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 10 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, fluff, smut, shopping date, makeout session

❥ A/N: thank you for your patience my lovelies, i hope you enjoy 💕

"Can I take you somewhere this weekend?"

"Like where?" Mohammed smiles, taking a sip of his drink.

"I want to take you shopping."

You choke on your drink, coughing into your fist.

"Shopping? Where did that come from?"

"I like how you dress, I really do, but I want to give you some more clothes to wear. I want to dress you up with clothes I got for you."

"Like a doll?" you ask teasingly, and he looks away, embarrassed.

"I don't want you to feel like a toy, or like I own you."

"I don't." You reach out for his hand, smiling at him when he grabs it. "I would feel bad if you spent that kind of money on me. You've already gotten me jewelry and perfume that was way too expensive."

"I don't care about money." He brings your hand to his lips, kisses your knuckles. "I only care about you." You giggle, waving him off.

"Stop, you're gonna make me blush." He smiles, kissing your hand again.

"So? Is that a yes?"

You think for a moment, considering the pros and cons before you nod.

"Sure, I'll let you take me shopping." He does a fist bump and you laugh. "I will warn you though! There's not a lot of places that carry my size. I am a big girl, after all."

"I'll do some research. I'll find some places to take you, I promise."

"Break time's over!" your coworker calls.

"Time to go, handsome." He smiles at the compliment, standing up with you and opening his arms for a hug. You fall into him, arms wrapped around his torso as you snuggle into his chest. He kisses the crown of your head, smoothing his hands over your back.

"I'll pick you up at eleven on Saturday. Do you want to eat while we're out?" You hum in thought.

"Can we get takeout and bring it back to my place? And then we can watch a movie?"

"I'd love that." You get up on your tiptoes to kiss him before pulling away and waving.

"Bye, Guy." You wince, scrunching your face. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I'm just so used to calling you 'Guy'."

"It's okay," he waves you off. "I'm not worried about it. You can keep calling me 'Guy' if you want."

"Are you sure? I don't want to make it weird by calling you something else when I finally know your name."

"It's fine. I like it. It's my own special nickname." You giggle.

"Okay, alright. I'll alternate between the two."

"Sounds good."

"Hello? Break time is all done! Quit chit-chatting and get back over here before I get you fired!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!"

"You look cute," he says when you open the door, "as always."

"It's just leggings and a cropped sweater."

"Which is really cute. And sexy. Gives me a look at your hips."

You giggle, turning around and giving a pose.

"And a good look at my ass."

He nods, glancing over you before giving you a thumbs up.

"Nice butt."

You laugh, turning back around and grabbing his hand, going to his car.

He drives you to a shopping area, an expensive one that you've never ventured to because you knew it was out of your price range. You glance around while he parks, staying in the car while he gets out because you know he likes opening the door for you.

When he helps you out of the car, he pays the parking meter and grabs your hand, taking you along the sidewalk.

"You were right," he starts, "there's not a lot of places that have good clothes in your size, which is bullshit."

"I told you. Were you able to find anything?"

"Of course. There's a plus-size store for women down the road a little bit. We could try some other places too, if you want, but this store is specifically for plus-size women."

"Aw, look at you being all sweet and doing research on where I can get clothes. You're so romantic."

"This is just basic decency. Every guy should be treating you like this." He pauses, looking at you. "I take that back. Only I should be doing these things for you. But other guys should be doing this for their partners too."

You laugh, leaning into his arm as you walk.

"You're so cute I could die!"

"Don't do that. I want to spend a lot more time with you."

You arrive at the storefront, Mohammed opening the door for you. You enter the almost completely white interior, looking around at the array of clothing they had. Jeans and t-shirts, but also dresses, bags, and jewelry.

"Hi!" a sales clerk greets you, walking towards the two of you. "Welcome in! Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Actually—"

"Yes," Mohammed speaks up, stepping forward and gesturing towards you. "I'm looking for some clothes for my girlfriend."

"Oh! How exciting! What are you looking for?"

"Well—"

"I want some clothes that highlight her beauty." He motions his hands to outline your body. "I like her curves, and I would love some clothing that accentuates her curves. I also think she looks nice in florals and bright colors, but not so bright that she gets everyone's attention. Oh, and I would love to get some gold jewelry; I think she looks really nice in gold—"

"Mohammed!"

He stops, looking at you.

"What?"

"Can I speak to you?" you ask, an edge to your tone. He gulps, nodding, following you a few steps away from the sales clerk.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" you ask in a hushed voice. "What's wrong is you coming into the store and telling some girl how you want me to dress! Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I... I thought you wanted to go clothes shopping."

"I do, but I didn't come here for you to dictate what I should wear." You point your finger into his chest, giving him a serious look. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't get to tell me what to eat or where to go or what to wear. Got it?"

He swallows, nodding slow.

"I... I'm sorry. I've always done it this way in the past." You arch your brow.

"How many girls have you done this for?" He looks at the ground.

"Two."

You huff, crossing your arms.

"I have no right to be mad. We probably didn't even know each other when you did those things."

"We didn't. I wouldn't have done these things with other girls if I knew you were out there."

You sigh, glancing around the store.

"Just don't take charge of things like that when it should be my decision, okay? I'm the one who's going to be wearing the clothes, so I should be the one to choose them." He nods, still staring at the ground.

"You're right. I'm sorry." You tap your finger against your arm.

"Just don't do it again."

"I won't." He looks up at you like a sad puppy. "Are you mad at me?"

"...No. I just don't like being told what to do."

"I understand. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

You sigh, reaching up and pinching his cheek gently.

"Quit pouting. This was supposed to be fun. Just no more taking charge, okay?"

He nods, still looking sad as he leans into your hand, nuzzling your palm.

"Do you want a kiss?"

"Yes, please," he replies.

He leans down and you kiss him chastely, giving him several little pecks before pulling away and smiling.

"It's okay. Just learn from this experience."

"I will."

You grab his hand, pulling him back to the sales clerk who stops folding some clothes.

"I'm ready to shop now!"

The sales clerk is very kind to you, showing you around, recommending different outfits for you to try on. You pick and choose the outfits you'd like to try, now carrying a pile to the dressing rooms.

"Do you wanna see each one?" you ask Mohammed over your shoulder.

"If you don't mind."

You enter the dressing room, locking the door behind you. You start undressing, picking out your first outfit and putting it on. It's a pair of skinny jeans and a white blouse with puffy sleeves. You look yourself over in the mirror before leaving the dressing room, going to the sitting area where Mohammed was. He was leaning back against a couch, but he sits up when you walk out.

"What do you think?" you ask, doing a spin so he could look over all of you.

"You look nice."

"That's all? Just nice?" He shrugs, glancing away.

"Would you like me to say more?"

"Yes, please. Give me specifics or I'm just gonna put it back."

He looks you up and down, inhaling deep.

"You look like the innocent girl-next-door, the one who would bring me cookies and ask to drink a beer with me." You scrunch your face.

"I hate beer."

"I know. But that's what you look like to me." You twist your mouth in thought.

"That's definitely more detailed, but I'm not sold on the outfit. I feel like it makes my waist look big." He shrugs.

"Then put it back. Like you said, you should wear what you want, so if you don't like it, don't get it." You point at him.

"I like the support. Keep it up. And keep giving me those descriptions; they're cute to hear." He salutes you.

"Got it, boss."

You giggle, heading back to your dressing room, undressing and putting the outfit in the 'no' pile. You find another outfit, trying it on and going out to Mohammed.

"You look like the kind of girl that would flirt with me at the gym by asking to touch my muscles."

You try on another outfit.

"You look like a girl I would meet at the library who would be too shy to talk to me."

And another.

"You look like a girl who would try and sell me essential oils or herbal supplements."

His comments always made you laugh, but you didn't end up liking any of the outfits. They were all generic, boring, the kinds of clothes that didn't compliment your body, just tried to hide it. It was a shame, since Mohammed brought you all this way just to buy you clothes, and you weren't happy with anything.

You come out in your original outfit, looking glum.

"You didn't like any of them?"

"No," you mumble, shrugging. "I just didn't really enjoy anything. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he responds, standing up and walking towards you. "I wasn't too impressed with anything you wore either." He puts his hands on his hips, looking disappointed. "It sucks that the clothes weren't better suited toward you."

"Yeah."

The two of you stand there awkwardly.

"I feel like today was a bust," you say.

"It wasn't a total bust," he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it. "I got to see my girlfriend play dress-up which was pretty cute."

You scoff and roll your eyes.

"You're silly." He squeezes your hand again, making you look at him.

"Would you like some purses or jewelry? That stuff didn't look so bad." You glance around the store, twisting your mouth before nodding, smiling at him.

"Maybe just one purse, though. I don't need a million of them."

He smiles, leading you to the bags. You look around for a bit, picking up a bag and then opening it, turning it over before putting it back. You do this to a couple before you find one in your favorite color and a decent size. You hold it for a while, weighing it in your hands and deciding that yes, you would like this bag.

You turn to smile at Mohammed, but he's not next to you anymore. You frown, looking around the store before you see him standing over a table, looking at something. You walk over to him, glancing around his large form to see him holding a pair of lacy panties.

"Guy?"

He jolts, dropping the underwear and turning to you, covering the shelf of lingerie with his body.

"Y-You find what you want?" You arch your brow, smiling at him.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"N-Nothing."

"Ohhh, nothing, huh?" You take a step toward him, moving to the side to pick up the panties he was looking at. "This is nothing?"

He gulps, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I-I was just looking..." You hum, looking over the panties. They're white with little bows on the front and sides. You smirk at him.

"Were you thinking about me in this?" He can't look at you, glancing around the store.

"...Maybe."

"Hmm, interesting. And what exactly were you thinking about?"

"I just..." He runs a hand over his face. "I just think you would look really good in white."

"Cute and innocent, huh?" You swear you can see him blush. He nods slightly. You giggle. "Maybe I should get it, for when we finally do it."

He looks at you, eyes wide.

"I... I don't... you don't have—"

"It's fine." You nudge him with your elbow. "You're paying anyways. Think of it like a future present to yourself."

He follows you to the register, not able to look the sales clerk in the eye as he pays for your new purse and panties. You take the shopping bag from her, wishing her a good day before grabbing his hand and leading him out of the store.

"I'm so excited for this food!" you cheer as you unlock your apartment and open the door. "I haven't had Chinese food in so long."

"You like Chinese food?" Mohammed asks, following behind you into your apartment.

"Yeah, but I like all kinds of food, haha! I really like this place though because they give you so much fried tofu and it's so good."

"I see." He sets down the takeout bag on your coffee table as well as the bag from the store.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you ask, moving to the kitchen.

"What do you have?"

"Water, juice, diet soda." He hums.

"I'll take a soda."

"Okie dokie!"

You return with two cold sodas, joining him on the couch. He starts taking the food out of its bag while you turn on the TV and search for a movie to watch.

"What are you in the mood to see?" you ask him.

"Whatever you want to watch is fine."

"Well, if it's up to me, I'm gonna pick another rom-com."

"I like watching rom-coms with you," he says, pushing your food closer to you, grabbing some chopsticks and breaking them apart.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I like to imagine us in the same scenario." You giggle.

"You're a silly goose."

"Am I your silly goose?"

"Of course." He smiles.

"That's all I care about."

You choose a movie, letting it start as you grab your food. You got General Tso's tofu with vegetables and rice, and he got orange chicken with lo mein as a side. You sit in silence as you eat, watching the movie you had seen several times before. When the food is gone, you cuddle up together, his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his chest.

"Can I say something?" you ask, tilting your head to look up at him.

"Of course."

"You've got nice boobs." He barks out a laugh, snorting and covering his mouth with his opposite hand.

"What? Boobs? What are you talking about?"

"Your pecs!" You sit up, motioning towards his chest. "They're very soft and comfortable. They're like boobs, you know?"

He puts his hands on his chest, looking down at them.

"I mean, I guess they are soft. I've never really thought about it."

"Can I touch them?" He glances at you, then shrugs.

"If you want to."

You smile, inching closer before stopping.

"Would it freak you out if I sat on your lap?" He visibly swallows but shakes his head.

"No, you can. I won't mind."

You smile again, crawling over him so that you were straddling his thighs, facing him. You rub your hands together in anticipation before reaching out, placing your hands on his pectorals.

"They're so big," you whisper before squeezing them, feeling them give under your fingers. "I told you they were like boobs."

"You seem to like them a lot."

"I do." You squeeze them again, giving them a little shake, which makes him chuckle.

"You're silly."

"You like it."

You keep massaging his muscles, squeezing and releasing them, molding them in your hands. You give him a sly grin.

"Is this turning you on?" He huffs.

"I guess it could be seen as arousing."

"So you aren't aroused?"

"I mean... you do look really hot sitting on my lap." You smirk, leaning in close to him.

"You wanna make out?" He gulps and nods.

"Yes, please."

You close the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his hungrily. He moans at the contact, his hands finding your waist and squeezing, thumbs digging into your plush stomach. You keen, molding your lips with his before opening your mouth just a bit and gliding your tongue over his lips. He's receptive to your advance, opening his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. Your mouths widen and your heads tilt in opposite directions, doing everything you can to get closer to one another. Your tongues swirl around each other, your moans drowning in your connected mouths. He pulls away suddenly, leaning his head back against the couch cushion, eyelids hanging low as he looks at you.

"Would it be okay if I touched your ass?" he asks, blinking slow. You nod quickly, gasping when you feel his large hands slide down your hips and grab your ass, pulling you closer to him.

"You're so fucking pretty," he breathes, leaning back in to kiss you. You whine, your hips moving on their own and grinding against his, making him groan. He pulls back, but keeps his mouth close to yours. "And soft. How are you so soft?"

"Squeeze my ass," you plead, planting your lips against his again. He sighs into you, his big hands squeezing as much of your ass as he can grab, pulling your hips to meet his. He helps guide your hips to grind against his, the zipper of his jeans brushing your clothed pussy. You try to manipulate yourself so that you can grind your clit down against the hard material.

"Such a good girl," he sighs, moving his lips to your neck and pressing open mouthed kisses against you. You moan, finding the perfect spot to grind down on and focusing there, moving your hips faster. "You're my good girl, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh," you whine, biting your lip as another moan slips out.

"Fuck, that's right. My sweet pretty girl. God, I love you, I love you so fucking much." You gasp, barely thinking before you reply.

"I love you too," you moan in his ear, hearing him inhale sharply. He pulls back to look at you, eyes glazed over.

"You mean it? You're not just saying it to make me feel better?" You shake your head.

"No. I mean it, Mohammed. I really do love you."

He sighs, lips crashing into yours once again. He grabs your hips, guiding them to grind down on his lap, making you moan. He's sucking on your tongue and meeting your hips with his, practically bucking up into you. Your hands glide from his cheeks to his neck and shoulders, squeezing along the way. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, moving your hips faster, humping his lap. He moans into you, mumbling praises in between kisses, but you can't make out what he's saying. Your hands plant themselves against his cheeks, holding him still so you can kiss him harder, more passionately. He moans, pulling you down against his lap, grinding you into him hard before he lets out a deep groan. You keep kissing him even as he whimpers and pushes your hips away.

"What's wrong?" you ask, pulling back to search his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, head tilted back against the couch, his chest heaving.

"I need to go," he says suddenly.

"What? Why? Are you just uncomfortable because we can stop if you want—"

"No, I just..." He runs his hands over his face, groaning in despair. "If I tell you, you're gonna laugh at me."

"What? What are you talking about? Whatever it is, I'm not gonna laugh at you, so just tell me."

He moves his fingers to peek at you with one eye. If he could blush, you imagine he'd be as red as a tomato right now.

"I'm just... really embarrassed."

"About what, honey?" He groans.

"This is the worst time to call me a pet name."

"Guy, just tell me what's going on. I'll be mad if you don't tell me."

He sighs deeply.

"I don't want you to be mad..."

"So then tell me what's going on."

He drops his hands to his sides, staring at the ceiling before glancing at you, then down at his lap. You follow his gaze to his jeans, searching before seeing a vague dark spot on his crotch.

"I... I'm sorry, I just... I got really excited and before I could do anything, it just..."

"Oh..." You hold your hands close to your chest, feeling your cheeks burn as you realize what happened. You swallow, clearing your throat. "I-It's okay! It's not your fault. These things happen."

"It's fucking embarrassing," he bemoans, turning his head to the side, staring out into the room. "I look like a fucking teenager right now."

"No you don't," you reassure, glancing back at him, seeing how upset he was. "I don't want you to be upset about this. These things happen."

"This is the first time I've lost control like this. I've never had this happen with a girl before."

"Ah... I see..." You fiddle with your hands, sitting up straight. "Well, then that just makes me feel really special! It means you like me so much that you can't even control those things around me." You wiggle off his lap, standing up in front of him. "Plus, you're not the only one who got excited. Here, look." You bend your leg and put your foot up on the couch beside him, tugging the crotch of your leggings to show the growing wet spot there. His eyes widen and he sits up, leaning forward to get a better look.

"This is because of me?"

"Of course it is. Who else could make me like this?"

His firm hand finds your thigh, rubbing your leg and sighing.

"You really don't think less of me because of it?"

"Of course not. It would be silly and mean to think that way. You're valid in how you feel and with what happened."

He nods, resting his temple against your knee, sighing.

"Now I'm gonna have to drive home with cum in my pants."

You snicker, touching his hand, making him look at you.

"We can wash them while we watch another movie. Come on. I have a pair of men's sweatpants that should fit you."

You go find your sweatpants and give them to Mohammed, letting him go to the bathroom to clean up and change. While he does so, you go to your bedroom and change your leggings and underwear, wiping yourself clean with a couple tissues. When you both return to the living room, you take both of your soiled clothes and go to the washer, throwing them in with some detergent and starting a quick cycle. You reconvene on the couch together, the movie finished at this point and the washer filling the room with noise.

"I'm really sorry," he says, hands folded in front of him.

"You have no reason to be. I enjoyed myself, and I'm glad you did too." He twiddles his thumbs, glancing at you.

"Do you really love me?" You huff, smiling.

"Yes, I do. I really love you, Mohammed."

He smiles softly, swaying his legs from side to side as he stares at his hands.

"That makes me really happy."

"I'm glad." You crawl over to him, leaning against his arm. "I like making you happy."

He turns his head to you. You stare at each other for a moment before you lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet. You pull away, smiling at him.

"Wanna watch another movie while your clothes wash?"

"Sure. You pick."

You roll your eyes, grabbing the remote.

[9haharharley1]

Sorry if this seems kinda out of the blue, but I've recently delved through the Rise of the Guardians Fandom Wiki to look at all the concept art (a fair bit of which isn't included in the Art Book) and I couldn't help but overhear your desire for cosmic/abyssal horror. If you want to keep it with Pitch, might I suggest taking a look at the wonderful concept art from Simon Rodgers? This was made sometime during the concept stages of Rise of the Guardians' development when the characters were much closer to their book counterparts. I'm certain you've seen the "Eldritch Pitch" image before—Simon made that!

The last image seems to suggest that the Nightmare Galleon's crash to Earth was responsible for the formation of Pitch's Lair, creating a warped and toxic environment for him to fester. It reminds me of Christian Scheurer's take on the Nightmare Galleon: something much more fitting for a sci-fi setting than magical fantasy, but really cool nonetheless.

And of course, we can't forget about Shane Prigmore's contributions when the movie was still in development before Peter Ramsey took it in the direction we know and love today. The image of a colossal nightmarish Pitch absolutely dwarfing a human town is breathtaking.

Anyways, I just thought this concept art was really neat and it was the perfect opportunity to share it with another Rise of the Guardians/Guardians of Childhood fan (even if I'm just blabbing excitedly to one of my top favorite fanfic authors). If nothing else, I hope you wow in awe as I did seeing it!

God yes, I love eldritch Pitch so much! I have the rotg movie art book, and some of the Nightmare Pitch (like the ones above) are just so stunning and breathtaking!

I have had ideas for a fic retelling the movie with a Pitch who never left his Nightmare roots, an actual Nightmare terror the Guardians actually fear and almost respect for all the horror he brings, and a Jack who doesn't remember his past comes in and jokes about rumors of the Boogieman (because who would take that seriously, amiright?). Only for the Guardians to be like, no, you don't understand. And when Jack finally meets Pitch, he can't help but feel the same cold wash of terror from him because he knows Pitch is hiding something and later sees him for the eldritch horror he truly is.

Im a sucker for cosmic horror and Guardians of Childhood barely scratched the surface of possibilities for Pitch

[advluv4life]

1 and 8 for the tgr ask game?

-@aftgphoenix

I was really excited to get this! I just had work and homework and chores and errands but I’ve been so excited to talk about it! I also had to scroll through the book because there’s so many scenes for each of these questions. & I don’t trust myself not to pick and then just change my mind in five minutes, so I chose a few/couple of scenes that I love/can’t get out of my mind for both (& there’s more, like the entire book, but I tried to not go on too long).

1 - What is your favorite part?

Rhemann decking Zane. Easily. Handsdown. I’ve said it before, but if I wasn’t already in love with Rhemann prior to this moment…I would’ve fallen so hard.

Also, following that moment, when Jean tells Jeremy all the things he doesn’t want; he doesn’t want Jeremy to be like Zane, doesn't want Coach to be like Tetsuji, doesn’t want to teach Tanner contrition, doesn’t want to harm Cat even if he thinks she should have performed better, doesn’t want to go back to how things were before… “We will do it your way and we will win anyway.” Oh, my heart. I was in tears for multiple reasons but this moment healed a little bit of my heart. Seeing his progress and growth, and hearing him express things he’s come to realize over the course of both books. Oh my god, I was so proud of him. I am so proud of him.

Honorable Mentions:

The part after the banquet where Jean reflects on hearing people talk well about him had me crying tears of happiness.

Jean telling their opponent to have a winning day still makes me scream (and also the Trojans reactions lol)

When Jean tells his therapist that he deserves to get better (*tears*)

Jean’s reaction when Jeremy called Faser his ‘partner’. I think that protective!Jean is right up there with protective!Andrew for me.

The stairwell scene with Jean and Jeremy. I held my breath. Every time Jean grabs hold of his chin, or they demand the other look at them- and they can't help but listen. And it's as if they have no room for people in their peripherals when they are together.

Jeremy and Jean in the hotel room! Jean leaning over him, the blatant flirting, the painful confession of Jeremy's history-

Kevin and Jean’s interactions overall: “I hate you.” “Sometimes you do. I don’t care.” // “How long do you think you can hold [Queen of the U.S. Court] when you’re drinking poison?” “Always, the last person who tried to take it from me died. Checkmate.”

Literally probably any part where Jean mentions/quotes Neil (I’m very much biased here, I was craving Neil before the book’s release and I obsessed over his every mention, I’m not going to apologize, I’m already crossing my fingers that with the trial in the next book Neil and Jean will have wayyyyyyy more interactions). Some moments:

When Zane told him to admit he would have rather had Neil as a partner and Jean couldn’t deny it.

When he recalled Neil brushing off his warning about Ichirou in regard to Andrew “I’m sure he knows." as he comes to terms with his attraction to men not being wrong like Riko made it out to be.

Andrew and Jean’s conversation outside the interview.

“Pop. How easily these monsters die in the end.” quoting.

“It was Rhemann’s voice in his head, Rhemann’s and his friends’ and Neil’s, drowning out his miserable thoughts and excuses with unrelenting force.” -LITERAL crying as I type it now because this is definitely in my top 3 favorite quotes in the book. Just the fact that Neil is included in the list of people who he thinks of/hears as he puts his own wellbeing first moves my soul.

Okay, I’ll stop lol. I could go on and on and on.

8 - Which scene is living rent-free in your head?

This doubles as a favorite scene (of course):

Jean extending his list by adding ‘Fireworks’ but mainly him giving Wymack and Rhemann the title of ‘Fathers’. 

Jean remembering how he was told he was one of Rhemann’s kids and taking comfort in that- him being able to take comfort in that despite his own father being an awful awful man was just a lot to me. I think about it a lot. I think about and compare it to Kevin not calling Wymack ‘Dad’- even in private and then I think about how much Jean has faced and been forced to face and if that says anything about either one of them in regard to their progress and development after leaving the Nest- but I don’t want to get into that because people move at their own pace and they’re both safe now and in environments where they are loved and appreciated and can focus on themselves and things that make them happy. But I think about it a lot (‘a lot a lot a lot’ lol).

And Wymack calling him when he found out about the fire! My whole heart. I really didn’t expect that, maybe Renee or Kevin- possibly Neil (unlikely due to injury) but I didn’t expect Wymack and…I love him.

Another scene, Honorable Mention lol, for different reasons that isn’t as sweet and heartwarming- but where I had to pause and I also continuously mull over it, is when Jean is fighting Zane and Lucas comes in and instead of Zane continuing going after Jean he makes Lucas his target because he looks so much like Grayson.

Like, Zane betrayed Jean. He turned Jean over to Grayson and turned his back on him and yet going after Grayson is still so strongly ingrained in him…And Jean knew he would go after Lucas in that moment… It doesn’t make me like Zane. But it adds to the weight and complexity of the Nest and the Ravens’ mental states because before this we really only saw how quick they were to turn on Jean- and Zane did but Jean still saved his life and there’s still a part of Zane that is protective of Jean (though it’s not anything trustworthy because of his previous betrayal)- Still hearing Zane go off about how being Jean’s partner meant so much to him (even if it was for selfish reasons) and when Jean goes off about how it was a lost cause regardless, both because of Riko’s/the Ravens’ dislike of Jean but also because of the fact that Zane himself stood in the way of Riko/Grayson, put so much more stuff into perspective in regards to their relationship and how strained yet vulnerable it was. Why it was awful but also why it meant so much to both of them. (Okay I’m going to cry, I’m going to stop now). This moment/scene/fight silenced me. I was so mad and so sad and so…smh.