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sunsetchicane · 8 months ago

Note

I love your post card series! Could I request Oscar with rodeo reader where they’re penpals and Oscar subscribes to the cowboy channel (that’s actually what it’s called) to watch his penpal and rodeo reader starts to watch f1 and then she gets invited to Austin?

love letters [OP81]

oscar piastri x fem!barrel racer!reader [from southern US]

word count: 4.2k

summary: The one where you meet a certain racing driver as you're both starting your careers and you decide to keep in touch.

warnings: fluff, fluff, oh and a little more fluff! angst maybe if you squint and tilt your head

author's note: To my dearest anon, this is MY love letter to YOU. Thank you for requesting this and letting me write about the rodeo; it brought me back to when I was just a little girl and was oddly healing?? Sorry for being a sap lol! I hope this is to your liking :) Feedback, comments, reposts, and likes are always appreciated!!! Peace and love babes. [xoxo elle]

“Speed. Agility. Determination. This barrel racing pair is one for the ages and the crowd here today knows it,” Janie Johnson says, a bright smile on her face while she stares down the barrel of the camera.

She turns her attention over shoulder when the crowd’s cheers hit a crescendo. You’ve just rode out into the arena, the American flag streaming by your side while you gallop around. Chants and cheers of your name fly from the mouths of onlookers, swallowing everything into a thunderous roar. For this moment, the entire world is yours. The other top riders follow you out into the dirt of the arena, hands waving and smiles flashing. There’s nothing quite like being at the rodeo.

“And there she is, our winner today and her beautiful horse, Sweet Tea,” Janie says, unable to look away from the way you and your horse run the perimeter. You take your time, soaking up the glory of another win.

You fly through your post-race duties, one thought constant in your mind: you have to write your letter to Oscar. It’s sort of a silly tradition, but you’ve been doing it for ages. After a rodeo weekend or a race weekend for him, you both would write each other a letter explaining everything in careful detail. You loved it. Even though the information about the rodeo and the race would be released ages before the letters arrived in your respective mailboxes, it was still amazing to hear about things from his perspective and explain your’s to him.

So, once everything is loaded up and you’re back on the road, you lean yourself back in your seat with a pen and pad of paper in your lap trying to put everything you’re feeling into words. Though your sports were different in a lot of ways, there were similarities that pulled the two of you together. The pressure, the adrenaline, the rush of a win. It’s what made you two so close even though there were vast oceans separating you.

As you write, you can’t help but reminisce on the first time you ever wrote one of these letters. It was years ago, just as you started pro barrel racing. It was a rodeo early in the season. You were dressed and ready for your pool. Sweet Tea was edgy and nervous and so were you. You were the rookie pair that year, just a five year old horse and an 18 year old jockey. You remember that you felt way in over your head that day as you watched the vets take on the arena.

To ease both of your nerves, you led Sweet Tea on a walk. Whispering to her with your head low, you didn’t even notice the group walk up in front of you. The voice of your manager made you tip your head up, looking at him under the brim of your hat. He smiled at you and introduced you to a group of young, thin, pale looking boys. He explained that they were from a Formula 3 team called Prema. You’d never heard of Formula anything before.

Your manager led the group of boys away after some small talk. They were nice enough, but you didn’t need any distractions. Just as the last of the boys followed your manager to your stalls, you thought you were free to go about walking Sweet Tea again.

“What’s your horse's name?” An unfamiliar voice with an unfamiliar accent said. You don’t get much for foreign accents at the rodeo, so it took you by surprise. Your eyes met his brown ones. His brown hair was cut short on the sides and the top drooped down over his forehead. He donned a white t-shirt that displayed the word “PREMA” in red, coupled with a pair of blue jeans and sneakers. It was the first of the few times that you’d seen Oscar Piastri in person. The memory lives clear and bright in your mind.

“Sweet Tea,” you answered him in a clipped voice. You were still uppity about your impending race and Oscar was quickly becoming a distraction.

“Sweet Tea,” he echoed while taking a few steps closer. Tightening your grip on her reins, you waited for her to spook.

“Wait-” you began to warn Oscar as he crept in closer. But you were swiftly cut off when all Sweet Tea did was bray and huff at him. You were nothing short of shocked. She rarely took to anyone, but she seemed to immediately like him. It made you curious.

“You can pet her, if you want,” you encouraged him while continuing to gauge Sweet’s reaction. Together, the two of you stroked the soft brown of her coat. You could tell that her mood was suddenly a lot sunnier, the moodiness exiting her body as you and Oscar brushed your hands over her.

“What’s your name?” you asked after a while.

“Oscar,” he replied, his eyes darting up to meet yours over Sweet Tea’s head. For a moment, you studied his face. He looked perfectly calm, peaceful even, in the intense atmosphere that surrounded you. It didn’t surprise you that Oscar’s tranquil nature helped to set Sweet’s nerves at ease. His demeanor was even helping you.

“She likes you,” you said, giving him a small smile while you dragged your hand over your horse’s nose.

“I hope so,” he said, his eyes flicking from you to Sweet and then back up.

Everything after that was history.

You and Sweet Tea ran better than you ever had, placing in the top three. It was your best result yet and set you up for success for the rest of the weekend. You saw Oscar every day of the rodeo. He would stop by to say hello to you and Sweet Tea while you were prepping for a race or catch you after your pool. Awkward teenage conversation fell away quickly, giving way to long, easy conversations.

On Sunday, you and Sweet Tea took it all. It was a huge payday which would boost the rest of your season. You were on cloud nine. Oscar walked with you while you led your horse back to the trailer. Back and forth you talked about the race and how it felt. You were so glad to have someone to talk to about all this. You used to talk to your grandpa about everything, dissecting the race and your rides with him. He’s the one who taught you how to race. But, he died shortly before the season started. He never got to watch you race at this level and you didn’t have him to talk to anymore.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you said while turning away and adjusting your hat, suddenly embarrassed at yourself. Oscar wasn’t a rodeo kid. He probably didn’t care how tight your turns around the barrels were or how responsive Sweet was today.

“No,” he said, quickly cutting you off. “It’s alright. I like to listen.”

Not convinced, you stayed silent.

“It sounds a lot like how I feel when I race, you know. So, I get it,” he admitted then, his shoulders coming up into a shrug. You eyed him from under your hat, glad for the way the wide brim covered most of your face.

“I used to talk to my grandpa about this stuff,” the words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. If it would have been anyone else, you would have died from embarrassment. But, Oscar just blinked at you and waited patiently for you to elaborate.

“You remind me of him,” as you said it, you want to punch yourself in the face. You really went two embarrassing moments for two that day.

“Thank you?” he said, a small chuckle coating his words. He smiled at you so warmly that it thawed the icy shame in your chest slightly.

“I just mean that,” you tried to salvage what you thought was meant to be a compliment but just came out really weird. “You’re a good listener, like him.”

Oscar nodded, his small smile still on his lips. His perpetually tired-looking eyes were soft and kind while he watched you walk your horse. You believe that it was in that moment that you became friends, good friends.

Coming up on your trailer, you slowed your pace, wanting to prolong your last moments with your new friend. Feelings that had been growing steadily over the weekend were at their peak, downing you in an intense feeling of longing. If you could do anything to never let him leave your side ever again, you would do it. In a heartbeat. In the span of just a few days, you’d grown so close that it felt like there’d never been a time where you didn’t know him. Friendly affection wasn’t an apt description of what passed between the two of you. A four letter word danced around in your teenage mind. But you couldn’t say that to him. You’d only known him for 72 hours.

“We leave tonight,” Oscar said then, shoving the toe of his shoe into the grass. You leaned into Sweet Tea, stroking her neck and avoiding looking at your brand new best friend–your brand new obsession. Emotion roared like a tide inside of you, threatening to spill out from your eyes in tears and from your mouth in a confession.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” your voice was thick with your southern accent. It always got heavier when you were emotional.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. Your eyes flicked to his then, taking in the soft look that graced his features. He seemed so sure of his words. It placed a little peace in you to know that he was just as intent on not letting go of the relationship you’d built as you were.

“Can I write to you?” you asked suddenly, not sure why this is the way you wanted to keep in contact with him. There was something inside of you that longed to write to him. Handwritten letters seemed deeply personal, intentional, everything that you wanted to convey to him.

“Write…like letters?” he asked, his small smile turning into an amused grin. Instead of becoming embarrassed at your suggestion, you held firm. Nodding at his question, you sent him a small smile. He shook his head a little and asked for your phone. You handed it to him and he typed in his contact, only filling out the address line and his name.

Once your phone was back in your possession, he said a goodbye to Sweet Tea while stroking her nose lovingly. She whinnied at his touch, tossing her head affectionately. Then he turned his attention to you, he stepped closer than he ever had. Invading your air, you thought he might kiss you. Your heart stopped for a moment, teenage love sending sparks across your eyes. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. Your arms slung easily over his shoulders, holding him close. You relished the feeling of his chest against yours, his breath against the back of your neck.

That’s the feeling that you’ve held onto over the last four years. It’s the feeling you hold close on lonely nights on the road. It’s the feeling you remember every time you pen a letter to your closest friend, wishing that you could’ve had the chance to be something more.

Over the years you’ve kept up with Formula racing, just for the sake of watching Oscar. Though, you’ve started to become quite the fan. Especially now, as Oscar is tearing it up for McLaren. He’s had an exceptional season. In his faithful letters, he writes in his subdued way about how thrilled he is about this season. His humility never fails to make you smile. It’s one of the things that makes him Oscar.

He also writes about watching you on the Cowboy Channel whenever he can. You’re always surprised and warmed when he includes details of your race or compliments your skills. His words, though concise, are eloquent in their own way. Whenever you read his letters, you can hear his voice in your head.

So, as you wrap up your letter, you’re already anticipating his response. Your eyes drift to the window once you’ve tucked everything away. The familiar rolling fields of perfectly parallel rows of crops lull you into a sleepy trance. Dreams of seeing Oscar again flood your mind when your eyes slide closed and fall comfortably asleep.

The final turn into your gravel driveway pulls you from your nap. You’d slept for nearly the entire drive. You’re warm from sleep, your eyes still heavy but your body feeling refreshed after a long weekend.

You and your small team unload the horses and the equipment quickly, desperate to return to your respective homes for a meal and your own bed. There’s nothing quite like returning to the ranch after a rodeo weekend. As you sling up your last saddle, you wonder if Oscar feels that way about home after a race weekend. You make a mental note to ask him about it in your next letter.

Before heading into your home, you run out to the mailbox and place your letter in it. Flipping the red flag of your mailbox up and walking away, you’re already anxiously awaiting his response.

Instead of dwelling on your letter and Oscar, which will definitely send you into an anxious tizzy, you decide to catch up on a couple of work related things to keep yourself distracted. Snuggled cozily into your bed after a long shower, you pull out your laptop and open your email. There are a dozen different unread emails from rodeo crews, journalists, and ranch staff. However, one unfamiliar sender catches your eye.

It’s from McLaren.

Ignoring everything else for the moment being, you rush to open the email. Rarely have you received emails from the McLaren F1 team. Every once in a while, they send you PR gifts or things of the like because of your connection with Oscar. But this one looks different. It’s more personal than that.

When your eyes read the contents of the document attached to the email, you nearly fall off your bed. It’s an official invitation from the McLaren team to join them as a guest for the Grand Prix in Austin the following week. Slack jawed, you mindlessly follow the directions on how to accept the offer. Nothing matters right now except for this.

After four years, you’re finally going to see Oscar again.

—

Walking onto the Paddock, you feel oddly at home. The hustle and bustle of a race weekend reminds you of your weekends at the rodeo. Team members and journalists and officials stream around you, everyone hellbent and on a mission. You’re swallowed into the excitement of it all, fading into just another body in the masses. It brings you peace that you weren’t sure you were going to find here.

“Miss?” a voice says from just behind you. Narrowing your attention to them, you turn around quickly. A small girl with bright blonde hair sends you a quick smile. She’s adorned with the bright papaya of McLaren. Her eyes drag from your hat-covered head to your boot-clad feet. Your light colored Wranglers hug your curves and flair out over your boots. A matching blazer covers your shoulders and the white button-up with the first few buttons undone. The look is complete by a dark orange, silk bandana tied loosely to one of your belt loops. You know you look like the epitome of country, but it was all intentional.

The McLaren employee confirms who you are before offering to lead you to the garage. Swallowing hard, you trail behind her, cutting your way through the sea of people. Nerves dance around in your stomach. You feel like you’re back on top of Sweet Tea the day you met Oscar, wide-eyed and anxious as all get out. But there’s something deeper that keeps you moving, a desire–a need–to see Oscar again. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of for years.

Every letter has been in preparation for this moment. Every word you’ve ever written to him saying the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say all those years ago. For the past week you’ve been rehearsing exactly how you’re going to tell the love of your life that you’ve fallen for him, that you’ve loved him since you were just 18. There’s nothing that could stop you, not even the fear of rejection. Four years of longing have put you in indescribable agony. There has to be some sort of resolve, good, bad, or otherwise. Today is the day that you’re going to share the one secret that you’ve ever kept from him.

The blonde employee, Julia, leads you into the garage and begins introducing you to the team. Smiling and snapping photos with some people, you lose count of how many names you’re told and hands you shake. Not that you’re really trying to keep track, your mind being pulled in a different direction. Desperately, your eyes scan the small garage for the only face that really matters.

You’re in the middle of discussing your latest race with one of the engineers when some movement from the back of the garage steals away your attention. A mop of brown hair and a dashing smile that you’d never forget comes into view. He’s rounding the car, chatting with his engineers and crew while laughing. He’s dressed in his race suit, the arms tied around his waist and showing off his skin tight fireproofs. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him. The rest of the world fades into a blur while your living, breathing dream shimmers like a mirage in front of you.

Finally, finally, he turns around with the soft smile that you’ve missed so much on his face. From across the garage, over the massive car between you, you lock eyes. Tears spring to your eyes as his jaw goes slack. You barely have time to blink or breathe before he jerks into action. He’s rounding the car in a hurry, whispering rushed apologies as he gently shoves people out of his way. You break away from your conversation with an ‘excuse me,’ meeting Oscar halfway.

The force of his hug knocks your hat clear off your head, but you hardly notice as he sweeps you up off the floor and into his arms. His arms, which are much larger than you remember, strangle you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. His face presses roughly into the crook of your neck. Smiling like a fool, you keep your arms wrapped around his neck, never wanting to let go.

When he finally sets you back down, you pull only one hand away to wipe furiously at the tears that have slipped out of your eyes. Sniffing, you laugh at what a mess you’ve become. But when you look up to find Oscar’s tear rimmed eyes and bright smile, you can’t help but choke on another sob.

His hands are still on your waist while you try to sort yourself out. Eyes shining, you take him in fully. He’s so grown. He’s tall and broad and all man. Except for his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, and his boyish smile. Those two things have stayed the same. Looking at them now, it’s like your past and your future have collided and coalesced into one man. Sighing, you shove him playfully in the chest.

“When did you go and get all grown up?” you say, your voice thick with emotion. He captures your hand on his chest, taking it into his own. With his fingers wrapped around yours, you feel perfectly at home. A slight blush has crept into his cheeks, painting a soft rose across his ivory skin. Your chest squeezes at the sight.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says quietly while reaching down to pick up your hat. Playfully, he shoves it back onto your head with a small smile.

For a couple of comfortable seconds, you just stand there in each other’s presence. Soaking in everything he is, you bask in the moment. He’s here with you. Finally. And the way he’s looking at you with those brilliant brown eyes makes you feel like not a day has passed since he left. The feeling that was born inside of you when you were 18, is reborn with double the intensity. Your love for the man in front of you is overflowing; it’s drowning you.

“Do you have a minute?” you ask after a while, your eyes darting around to the crowd around you. Oscar snaps back into reality with you, following your gaze to the stray looks you’ve been getting. Nodding, he leads you by the hand back to his driver’s room.

It’s a tiny space, just big enough for a couch and a small closet. But it’s private enough to have the conversation you’ve been equally needing and dreading. Oscar sits next to you on the tiny couch, his side pressed into yours. You can’t tell if the contact makes you more nervous or sets you at ease. For as many times as you’ve thought about and planned for this moment, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

Fiddling nervously with the hem of your bandana, you avoid looking your friend in the eyes. But, you can feel him staring at you. Suddenly, a large hand closes around both of yours, causing you to cease your fidgeting. Turning your eyes to his, you take in the crease between his brows and the small frown that pulls at the corners of his lips.

“Is everything alri-” he begins but you’re quick to cut him off.

“Ah, hell,” you mumble quickly, making a knee jerk decision.

With both hands you grab him by the neck and yank his face to yours. His head knocks your hat back on your head, giving you enough space to kiss him. Pressing your unmoving lips to his, you hold him there in desperation.

So much for the carefully crafted speech that you’ve spent four years on.

For a couple heart wrenching seconds, he doesn’t move. He’s gone completely still under your hands, his lips slightly parted in shock. Shame pools low in your stomach as you begin to pull away. But your heartbreak lasts only a split second before his hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you in place while he bursts into action.

His kiss is just as desperate as you feel. Pressing into each other with all the passion you’ve been harboring for four years, you’re both consumed by the heat of the moment. Your head swims as his lips glide against yours, his tongue skimming over your bottom lip before pressing deeper.

His free hand reaches out, grabbing your knee to haul you onto his lap. Sliding home over his muscular thighs, you sigh into his mouth. Nothing has ever felt more right. Perfection doesn’t do Oscar justice. He’s everything.

He holds your waist tight between his large hands while your kiss slows down. Lazily, you suck at his bottom lip while he chases you backward. Once again his chest is on yours, your memory flicking back to the last time you saw him. You knew then that you were his, and he was yours. Nothing could keep you apart, especially not now.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and voice soft. You’d never been one to beat around the bush; so why even try when it matters most?

The payoff is better than you could have ever hoped. Oscar doesn’t waste a second before both of his hands cup either side of your face, holding a searing kiss to your lips. He’s firm but kind. He’s Oscar.

“I love you,” he replies breathlessly after a couple seconds.

Your heart soars, leaving your soul in outer space. Seeing stars, you lean your forehead against his, a small laugh bubbling from your chest. Oscar chuckles with you, his chest rumbling under your hands. Pulling back slightly, you take your time to just look at him. Soft brown eyes meet yours and there’s a look there that you know you mirror with your own gaze. Affection, longing, love.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know,” you accuse while adjusting your hat on your head. Oscar’s mouth falls open slightly, faux offense coming over his features.

“You’re the one who kissed me!” he accuses right back. “I was all prepared, too. But someone was just over eager to jump my bones.”

Pinching his side playfully, you watch gleefully as he yelps. Shushing him quietly, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. Silently, an agreement that this was far better than any words you could have said passes between you.

Shaking his head, he settles his arms around your waist and smiles despite himself. With callused fingers, you trace constellations between his freckles. Your heart sings and you wonder how you were ever able to stand being away from him. With Oscar next to you, with his breath on your face, and with his smile for just you, you know that this is it for you.

Four years have been spent dreaming of him. Now, the rest of your life will be spent dreaming with him.

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theroyalbard · 4 months ago

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Update on Gabe, My common tropic Seraphim.

I looked it up on Google and I think he’s a common tropic species however, he also fit the description of a few desert species but given I live in the middle of the Pacific Ocean I’m leaning twords the former.

I still have no clue if I’m feeding him correctly. He seems to be content with wine and sugar water but I get the feeling I need to be feeding him solid foods.

He’s stopped chirping but keeps singing the same 4 notes over and over again and has taken to nesting in the Christmas tree, ripping out branches to make a nest at the top.

My clown Miss Ranger Ripper (a Rodeo Scare clown mix) has taken to treating it like an audience member and has been trying to entertain it while preforming various card and laso tricks.

I will update if anything changes with the angel.

#angel husbandry #clown husbandry #husbandry #biblically accurate angel #biblically accurate angel care #christmas #christianity #jesus christ #weirdcore #surealism

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sinning-23 · 1 year ago

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Piercings (Sanji x Reader)

I’ve fallen down the one-piece rabbit hole and most likely have a new hyperfixation I don't care they’re all hot and I will write like my life depends on it. Anyway, ENJOY SOME SANJI 💃🏾✨

Pt.2 out now! (18+)

Warnings: flirting, heavy touching, mentions of needles, kissing omg so scary

You're leaning against the bathroom sink, trying your damdest to keep a steady hand while you try and slide the needle through the skin of your lip. This wasn’t your first rodeo, considering you have plenty of piercings from your past. Whether it was a manic episode, a silly little impulse decision, or one you'd been wanting for a while, you had them.

Being out on the ocean didn’t really leave you a chance to go and get them done by someone in a shop but you picked up tips and knew what to do for the most part. Besides, if you messed up, you'd just have a little story to tell about it later!

You focused, taking one swift, deep breath before letting the metal into your skin, moving calculated with the jewelry, eyes watching a bit from the shock. This one was a bit easier since you’d had them before and the holes had closed. Observing your face with a smile, satisfied with your work you exit the bathroom.

As far as you knew the only other person with a semi noticeable piercing was Zoro. And even though you two didn’t really bond over it, it was something you had in common. Nami had her ears pierced as well but that was cause you'd offered when she mentioned wanting them. Commotion from the kitchen slows you down and you can’t help but let curiosity get the best of you. It was most likely just Sanji making something for lunch.

“Good morning!” You announce, making your way to the countertop to take a seat.

As predicted, Sanji was focused on his craft, hands moving from different ingredients to one big pot and two smaller pans steaming away behind him. Nami waves and smiles in response as Luffy follows behind her, snatching up an orange before smiling your way.

"Good morning Y/n!" Luffy beams, the kitchen falling in silence once again when the pair leaves.

...does this mf not see you sitting here all pretty?

"Good morning to you too my beautiful, wonderfully glorious, super sexy, absolutely adored y/n" You state, albeit a bit teasing.

He looks up for a moment, not missing the way you had rolled your eyes at the fact that he hadn't bothered to return the acknowledgment to you.

"Good morning chérie." He smiles, always intrigued by your chipper yet, slightly flirtatious attitude.

When you first arrived, it was really just to be an extra set of hands and someone with a rather extensive knowledge of islands. Not to mention pretty damn good with the locals considering you were a people person much like your captain. Anyway, Sanji tried his hand at the compliments and pet names, but you always returned them with quick wit.

In all honesty, it shocked him, and soon you were engaged in a mutual flirtatious game of cat and mouse. Pet names became hushed compliments and whispers in one anothers ear. Brief touches became prolonged and damn could you two hold eye contact. At this point, it was basically an eye-fucking starting contest.

You grin at him, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

Sanji paused for a moment to examine your face, four shiny dots along your lower lip, two on either side. He swallows hard, trying to shake himself out of his thoughts. What a pretty mouth.

"New piercings?" He questions, turning away from you and back to the stove.

You give a quick, "mhm!" and hop off to hover beside him.

"Shark bites, I mean, we are on the open ocean so why not!" You explain, leaning against the stove for a moment before jumping back with a hiss. Leave it to you to get injured while trying to mess around and chat in a busy kitchen!

It's instantaneous when Saji turns to see if you're injured, his own coming to yours to observe the burn. It wouldn't be the first item he's asked you to not mess around in here while he's working but you were so damn hardheaded, he knew this. But you just couldn't help it!

Unbeknownst to him, being around him and seeing him was the highlight of your day. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't developed feelings for the flirt. But considering he wasn't just flirty with just you, but Nami too, you'd made plenty of excuses and reasons to back off, even toning down your flirting a bit, thinking that you were getting in the way of who he really wanted.

It always killed you on the inside little bit, thinking of how one day maybe Nami would fall victim to his charm like you had. She'd be the one to whisper things to him, the one to press kisses to his face in adoration maybe. It was an odd way to punish yourself and keep your distance, imagining unrequited love but hey, to each their own.

However, unbeknownst to YOU as well, Sanji had developed a old-fashioned crush. How could he not! He loved the teasing, if he was being completely honest. He loved how you stayed just close enough to him to make his heart beat faster. He'd be more than happy to have you closer in all honesty. Pretty face, pretty personality, witty, fierce, bold as hell might he add.

Not to mention shawty got a body on her- Sanji redirects his focus, looking up into those pretty (e/c) eyes.

Taking your hand he pushed it under the icy water from he sink a silence washing over you.

His hands are bigger than yours, littered with scars as he rubs circles over the top of your hand in comfort. You swallow hard, trying to distract yourself from how warm his grasp feels on your wrist. Gentle but warm, contrasting with the harsh water. He's focused, lips and teeth fiddling with a small silver sphere while he turns the water off and grabs the aid kit beside him.

"Sanji." You breathe out, searching his eyes and lips briefly.

"Stick out your tongue....please?" You ask, seeing him swallow hard, ears flushed red., heat spreading to his cheeks. He doesn't follow through with the request.

Using your free hand, you follow the curve of his jaw before using your thumb to slide down his lips. Soft.

"I'll show mine if you show yours." You offer, letting your tongue slide over your lips deceivingly.

He's got this damn irresistible puppy look in his eyes, his lips parking only a bit before he sticks his tongue out, the silver shining in the kitchen light.

You bit your lower lip for a moment, letting your tongue do the same, only for him to find that it was split. He stopped dressing your hand now, the pain greatly dulled with a new distraction.

"Any more surprise body mods I should know about?" Sanji questions, voice dripping with desire.

Keeping your distance was a joke at this point because you'd be damned if you did have your lips on him within the next 10 seconds.

"I could ask you the same. Though, you should take me out before you see what else I have on my body? Don't you think Sanji?" You whisper his name, testing the waters.

It doesn't take much else for him to lean forward, your lips connecting like puzzle pieces. It's a soft pec at first, but soon becomes hungry and consuming, his pierced tongue sliding over your split one. It's hotter in here, his body caging you in, your hands fighting between staying on him, or resting against the countertop for support.

The tobacco on his tongue is addicting, just as much as the way he makes a point to make you feel the small metal sphere. There's only a moment to breathe, but when you do your right back on each other, this time, finding more stability with your arms around his neck, and his hands at your hips, thumbs tracing just above the curve of your ass. And then he feels it.

"Back dermals. Impulse decision but the backshots are nice."You hum, pulling at his lower let gently with your teeth.

He groans, the grip on your hips becoming tighter when he dips his lips down to the skin of your neck, sucking for a moment in debate. Your bodies are pressed flush against each other, his ears red as the color spreads to his cheeks. It's so damn hot in here.

"Backshots huh?"All takes is a whimper from you and he's back to work, the metal from his piercing sliding over your skin.

A look of horror washes over you before you can respond back, and you're pushing against him in a hurry. He opens his mouth to question what's wrong, anxiety seeping into his chest but before he can ever get a chance to overthink, you're already shouting.

"THE STOVE, SANJI! THE STOVE! ITS ON FIRE!"

____________________

LMK IF YOU WANN BE TAGGED IN PT.2

that one gets a little(a lot) spicier and uninterrupted by kitchen chaos and fire hazards

#x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla x reader #one piece x reader #i don't care he's hot #this is my current obsession so bear with me

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horsebark · 6 months ago

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ways to express your nonhumanity without gear

good quality gear can be pricey (for good reason!) but that doesn’t mean you can’t express yourself in other ways. here’s what i have personally found to be helpful! add yours in the notes!

-clothing & accessories:

being a horse makes this somewhat easy as western wear and horse shirts are aplenty. beyond just “shirt with your theriotype on it” think about what makes you feel like your type. for me this is loose clothing, especially a boxy “potato sack” kind of dress. or in colder months, jackets with a fur/sherpa lining make me feel like im wearing an insulated saddle. again, easier cause im a horse but if im going somewhere fancy i get inspired by dressage horses and show ponies. accessories that make me feel horse like are: chunky jewelry, bangles, stuff that makes noise when i walk! also i had to get new headphones, so i got them in a grey and brown option that reminded me of horse tack.

i thrift pretty much everything and this has helped me find really unique pieces as well as cheaper stuff that i don’t feel bad modifying to be more horse like.

-hair:

my partner does both of our hair. we’re both nonhuman and try desperately to make our external forms match the internal form. for me this looks like cropping the sides of my hair, and sometimes putting it in a row of buns down the back. bangs have also been helpful. for him as a crocodile and canid, this looks like matching his hair to his coat color and a choppy/angular haircut.

-piercings/tattoos:

ive talked a little about this before on my blog, but truly piercings and tattoos have eased my species dysphoria so much. i haven’t got any with direct relation to my species yet, but they all help me recognize my skin is mine. in the future i’d like to get a large gauge labret and stretch it, as the oral feeling would remind me of a horse bit. i’d also like to get a coinslot in one of my ears to hang an identification tag in. specific kinds of stretched ear jewelry make me feel horselike too, like (obviously) ear saddles. i also plan on getting a horse tattoo or two, and some horse shoe tattoos on my feet. body mods are expensive but last forever.

-body language & movements:

research into equine behavior has helped me notice what i already do that’s horse like and figure out what i can add. i struggle with speech sometimes so this has been helpful in boosting my range of nonverbal communication. i also watch gait videos and practice them. practicing how your type navigates its environment does not have to be through quads! i don’t do quads because it feels less like how a horse would move. biking helps! something about the way my knees pedal a bike feels equine.

-visit a hearthome:

go camping, see the desert, star gaze. what makes you feel at home? for me these places are: stock shows, rodeos, horse races, antique malls, rocky terrain, and feed stores. sometimes farms give tours to the public. ones not related to being a horse include: dawn/dusk, ice/ocean (this one has only been affirmed by going to an exhibit about orcas), and for some reason the electronics section at a thrift store. if you wouldn’t be able to visit a hearthome for whatever reason, message me and let’s figure something creative out!

#sorry a lot of this is personal examples #nonhuman #alterhuman #nonhuman community #alterhuman community #therian #therian community

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adore-laur · 1 year ago

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CALIFORNIA DUSK

— birth of baby #2 in the dadrry universe 🌊

——

6:24 AM

California dawn brings serenity to the house. The sun is leisurely rising, painting the sky with wispy pink brushstrokes across an endless canvas of powder blue. Seagulls croon as they fly parallel to the hazy horizon, gracefully dipping their claws down in the water to catch their first meal of the day. Waves crash against the vacant ocean shore with persistence, as if to announce that morning has arrived once again.

Soon, golden rays will seep through the flowing curtains and cast shapes on the hardwood floors. The trees will start to sway from the coastal breeze, sending earthy scents of pine and cedar into the kitchen. Toys scattered in the living room from the night before will be left alone to wallow until their owner sleepily waddles from her bedroom with a yawn and an empty stomach.

A spoon clinks against the edge of a mug, echoing throughout the tranquil kitchen as chickadees sing their song near the window. Yet the current calmness of your surroundings doesn't quite match how you feel inside.

Being awake for the past two hours—hunched over the kitchen island and rocking side to side while breathing through painful cramping—isn't how you would've liked to commence your morning. Harry is brewing homemade coffee for himself since there's a high chance it will be a long, tiresome day ahead. He's been up with you since you started having contractions, and you tried to convince him to keep sleeping, but there was no way to persuade him since he's naturally an early bird. And you know he would never let you handle the discomfort alone.

Your daughter is still fast asleep in her room down the hall, oblivious to how soon she'll be a big sister. You're not looking to traumatize her at a young age, so Harry's mother is on her way to pick her up in case you give birth.

You've decided on a natural water birth this time. Being in the hospital for your first childbirth experience was tolerable, but the atmosphere gave you tremendous anxiety. The nurses hovering over you, the constant beeping of the machines, and the stale room all felt suffocating. You're confident you'll feel more at ease in the comfort of your own home, with only Harry and the midwife witnessing you in your most vulnerable state.

As the pain temporarily alleviates in your abdomen, you slowly straighten your posture and walk some laps around the living room. There's nothing you can do except hang tight and see if anything progresses. The contractions haven't gotten to the point of being unbearable, but they still beg the question of whether you'll be having a baby today. It's a waiting game.

Harry is surprisingly relaxed, and you suppose it's because this isn't his first rodeo. Seeing the difference in his composure compared to the first time you went into labor is humorous. He had clammy hands, was a stuttering mess, and also forgot to bring his driver's license when he drove you to the hospital.

Now, it's like he has never been more prepared for anything in his entire life. He could be hiding his nerves well, but otherwise, he's extremely put together as he whistles the "We Just Got a Letter" jingle from Blue's Clues that always gets stuck in his head because your daughter watches the show every morning. He's already dressed for the birth that might not even happen today—swim shorts for when he gets in the birthing pool with you and a faded graphic tee that looks like it has seen better days. His favorite blue baseball cap is snug on his head, covering his messy hair that curls upwards underneath. He looks casually gorgeous in the morning light.

After your tenth lap, you wander back to the kitchen and stand beside Harry as he drops two slices of bread into the toaster. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Hi," he says, leaning his hip against the counter. "Contraction over with?"

"For now," you reply dully. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more."

He jerks his chin toward the sink. "I want you to drink some water."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Please just drink one glass for me, baby," he says, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a jar of grape jam. "Let's not have a repeat of last time."

You roll your eyes and steal a cup from the drying rack. He clearly remembers when you vomited at the hospital just hours before giving birth. Yes, you were dehydrated, but that was the last thing on your mind.

As you sip cloudy tap water, you watch Harry silently spread jam onto his perfectly browned toast. He's been too quiet this morning—entirely cool, calm, and collected. You miss his delirious morning humor.

"You're scaring me."

Harry freezes with the butter knife in his grasp. "I didn't know your husband making breakfast was a fear of yours."

There it is!

"No, not that." You wipe off a glob of jam on his thumb. "You're just really relaxed right now."

Setting his toast on a plate, he turns to you with a crease between his eyebrows. "Should I be freaking out?"

"Well, I might give birth soon," you say, your heart rate increasing at the mere thought. "Doesn't that, I don't know, make you nervous?"

"Of course, I'm nervous," he replies, gently squeezing your shoulders. "I'm sure I'll be a hot mess once you're in full-on labor. I'm just enjoying the morning with you while you're still pregnant. You know... soaking it all in."

You release a shaky exhale, your mind spiraling as everything becomes more real the longer you talk about how you'll be a family of four very soon. "Okay," you whisper unconvincingly. "That makes sense."

Harry obviously doesn't buy it because he stares at you briefly before trapping your fidgeting hands with his own. "What's going on?"

"I'm freaking out," you admit weakly. Your voice wavers, and the lump in your throat is hard to swallow.

His face softens with sympathy as your eyes gloss over with tears. "Let's walk down to the shore," he suggests, kissing your forehead. "Just you and me before it gets crazy in here."

Sniffling, you ask, "What if I can't make it back to the house?"

"Then I'll carry you."

"Good luck with that," you mutter before grabbing your phone from the kitchen table. "Let's go while I have a break from contractions."

He nods, taking his plate and the baby monitor from the countertop, and then leads the way out the patio door.

During the short journey there, your heart blooms with fondness when you catch Harry smiling to himself as he walks, his tattooed arms swinging. It's too endearing not to keep as a permanent memory, so you open the camera on your phone and press record. The fresh air has rapidly lifted your mood, and you're thankful for it.

"What are you grinning about over there?"

Harry looks up and gives the camera a big, open-mouthed smile, pure excitement exuding from him. He's been waiting so patiently for another baby, and now it's slowly but surely becoming reality.

"What's got you so happy?" You laugh and stop recording.

He shrugs, still smiling contagiously. "I can't believe it's happening. It just hit me right now."

Both of you reach the sand and sit away from the lapping waves in case you have to head back to the house promptly. Harry places himself behind you, a position that's supposed to help when a contraction comes. You can hold onto his legs for leverage and support, and he can massage wherever you're hurting.

"I can't believe it either," you reply with a pensive shake of your head.

"Talk to me. How are you feeling?" Harry asks, taking a crunchy bite of toast. "Emotionally, I mean."

Talk to me. It's a three-word sentence he's been saying to you for years. He always wants to know how you're feeling whenever you bottle up your thoughts—anger, sorrow, or happiness. It has never changed, and it never fails to help immensely.

"I'm not as nervous as last time," you answer, closing your eyes when he starts playing with your hair. "I feel more prepared since I know what to expect, but it's terrifying that I'm doing it naturally this time."

He hums in acknowledgment. "That's completely valid. No one expects you to be one hundred percent confident when pushing a baby out, no matter how many times you've done it before. Just know that I'm eternally grateful that you've grown two beautiful babies for us. You're a superstar."

"Thanks. I just feel like—" You gasp suddenly, your hand quickly shooting to your side as another contraction hits.

"Okay," Harry says soothingly, grabbing your hand so you can squeeze his own. He quickly unlocks his phone to set a timer. "It's okay. Breathe with me."

You inhale and exhale through the internal pain, the tight cramping making you lean back against his chest. "Harry, it hurts," you cry as your other hand grips his knee. "Ow, ow, ow."

"I've got you. Just breathe through it." He lifts the hem of your oversized shirt and spreads his hand on your stomach. It's stretched beyond belief and has dropped significantly throughout the past week. "Focus on my breathing, all right? And relax your shoulders. They're too tense."

You breathe with him as he massages your lower back. Your face is getting hot and your throat is dry, but the only thing you can fully pinpoint is the penetrating pain.

"Tell me something. Please distract me."

Harry kisses your temple. "You look really pretty."

"Shut up," you mumble with a laugh that quickly turns into a groan of discomfort.

"I'm serious. I love how you look in the morning when the sun hits your face, like right now. It makes you glow even more than usual. And the way it brightens your eyes reminds me so much of our daughter." He turns your face so you're looking at him. "I see you in her all the time."

You smile weakly and rest your head on the dip between his neck and shoulder. "Yeah, but she has your bunny teeth."

His deep, comforting laugh vibrates against your back. "Mm, you'd be the one to notice that."

You just tiredly nod as the contraction subsides. You make a good guess that you're not close to labor yet because of how far apart and mild they've been so far. The midwife is only five minutes away, so there's no dire need for her to come and check on you.

"I think that one's done." You carefully sit up and release his hand. "How long was it?"

Harry checks his phone. "Forty-seven seconds."

"Short," you think aloud. "They've been irregular, so I think they might be Braxton Hicks."

He dramatically falls back onto the sand and spreads his arms out. "Does that mean no baby today?"

You snort and cuddle up next to him. "Soon. You have to be patient."

He's silent for a minute before asking, "Isn't sex supposed to induce labor?"

You scoff and swat at his chest. "I swear you asked me that last time."

"Oh, I definitely did. You rejected me and then literally didn't go into labor until a week later, remember? You should've listened to me."

"I don't think it would be enjoyable for either of us if we tried. I couldn't even walk down here without feeling like passing out."

Harry draws patterns on your belly with his finger, causing a response of fluttery kicks from the baby. "I know, I'm only joking. We don't have to be anywhere or do anything right now. Let's stay out here for a little bit, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," you mumble into his shoulder. The world around you drowns out like the shells under the waves as you focus on his heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping of your favorite part of him lulls you to sleep, his hand gently stroking your hair as time passes with each movement of the sun.

Your nerves wash away with each ocean tide, and you know everything will be all right.

——

7:03 PM

The tub is ready.

You are not.

A shirtless Harry is already sitting in the circular birthing pool, looking like he's ready to deliver the baby himself. You've changed into your swimsuit and are now vaguely listening to what the midwife is telling you as you lean against the wall and suffer through another contraction—a particularly strong one that indicates you're going to start pushing soon.

Your water has already broken, and you're not quite sure why you're waiting until the very last second to get into the tub, but nothing in your mind is making sense due to the overwhelming pain. The bedroom is too small, the lights are too bright, the way Harry's dotingly looking at you is too much, and your body feels too weak even though it's about to perform the most vigorous exercise imaginable.

"We need you in the tub so I can check your dilation," says the midwife, snapping you out of your overthinking spiral.

"I-I can't," you reply helplessly. "I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this."

You regret not just sucking it up and going to the hospital so they can inject you with an epidural.

"I am going to do everything I can to give you a safe and smooth delivery process," she assures you. "Your husband is waiting for you. He's going to be your support system the entire time, okay? Do you trust him to do that?"

You frantically nod your head—you've never trusted anyone more. "The water will help with the pain," she adds with a kind smile. "It will relax your muscles and make you feel very nice. Can you get in the tub for me? Harry will help you."

You look at him, seeing his slightly shaky hands beckon you closer. You swallow and take a deep breath before slowly approaching him. Equipment scatters the floor and the bed beside you—clean blankets, a tarp for the mess, towels, medical supplies, and a cup of ice.

Harry carefully helps you into the birthing tub, positioning you so your back is against his bare chest. Once you're situated in the lukewarm water, you focus on his heartbeat pounding double-time.

"I can't do this," you repeat as you slide your swimsuit bottoms off.

"Yes, you can," Harry says, kneading your shoulders. "It'll be so worth it. We'll have a baby boy or girl to hold tonight."

"I'm scared. What if something goes wrong? What if I can't handle the pain? What if I—"

"Hey," he scolds softly. "Please don't think like that. Remember last time? What did I tell you to do to distract yourself?"

"Count your tattoos."

"That's right. I've gotten quite a few more since then, so get to counting. Distract your mind from the pain. I'm not going anywhere."

You begin counting, starting with your name tattooed on his right thigh. You then grab his left arm and count all the small ones near his hand. The chrysanthemum on the inside of his wrist represents your daughter's birth flower, along with her date of birth written in cursive underneath. There's also the outline of a wave representing his home with you in California, where you built your life together. They all mean something near and dear to his heart.

The midwife brings you out of your trance when she leans over the pool and checks your dilation as Harry places comforting kisses on the back of your head. "You're about eight centimeters," she tells you after a few seconds of uncomfortable inspection.

"I feel like I need to push," you say timidly. "I feel the baby really low."

"We need to wait until you're ten centimeters," she replies. "If you can just hold out a little longer, it'll be much easier to push, okay?"

You nod and let out a long groan when the contraction moves from your lower back to your pelvis.

"Do you want your ice?" Harry asks.

"Yes, please."

He reaches behind him and grabs the cup filled with chipped ice. You begin chewing on a piece to cool your body temperature and force your brain to focus on something else.

Several minutes pass, with Harry whispering loving encouragements as the midwife talks you through what's about to happen. She allows you to exert tiny pushes while applying pressure to your abdomen. Everything goes in one ear and out the other, but you know the moment is almost here. There's no stopping now.

"Do you still feel like you need to push, honey?" the midwife asks, checking your dilation again.

"Yeah. Am I ten centimeters yet?"

"Just about. I'm going to have you push now."

You turn your head and stare at Harry with wide eyes. He messily captures your lips with his, then moves them near your ear. "I'm right behind you. Whatever you need, just let me know. If you need me to get out or scream at me—anything at all."

You look forward when the midwife parts your legs and encourages you to push using all of your strength.

The first push is the most agonizing. Your head throws itself back on Harry's shoulder as you grit your teeth and contract what feels like every muscle in your body. The midwife counts to ten, the seconds dragging on like minutes. Your face is scrunched up tight, and your legs are tense in the water. Harry softly counts in your ear, taking your left hand in his.

Breathe out for three.

The second push feels like you're on fire, but not in a good way. The aching, cramping, and stinging pain shooting all over your body is borderline unbearable. It's felt externally, internally, and everywhere in between. You let a cry escape your mouth as the pain strikes your lower abdomen in full force. Harry kisses your ring finger and sets your hand on his heart.

Breathe out for three.

The third push gets you the farthest. Your ringing ears distantly hear something along the lines of I can see the head, and you feel a sharp breath from Harry hitting your neck and a kiss behind your ear. When the midwife gets to number two, she pulls the head out. The burning sensation remains, but the most challenging part is out of the way.

Breathe out for three.

The final push is when you give every ounce of energy you have left, squeezing both of Harry's hands so tightly that you're afraid you might break his bones. You're told to give your strongest and longest push, making your entire body rigid as you stop your breathing to make this the last one. Harry chants motivational words from behind you: They're almost here; you're doing so good; I love you.

Then, all at once, there's release.

Relief.

Remission.

You quickly pull your baby up from under the water and cradle them against your heaving chest. You're shivering from the adrenaline, and your body feels bizarrely empty.

"It's a girl!" announces the midwife as she wipes and rubs her down with a towel.

The tears immediately fall. You hear Harry let out a quiet sob as he buries his face in your neck with trembling lips. With his forehead pressed to your skin, he sniffles while the sound of your baby girl's cries fills the room.

"Would Dad like to cut the cord?"

Harry nods and palms his tear-filled eyes. She passes tiny surgical scissors over to him and stretches the umbilical cord, showing him where to snip. He carefully moves out from behind you and releases an emotional breath as he opens the scissors, but he drops them in the tub because of his shaky hands.

"Sorry," he says with a choked laugh. He picks them up and tries again, successfully cutting the cord. The midwife cheers and begins setting things up for the after-birth process.

You cradle the back of your baby's head and cry with unspeakable happiness. "Hold her," you tell Harry now that she's detached.

He reaches his hands out, and you carefully pass her squirming body over to him. He seems almost lost in a trance for a second, but when her cries die down instantly once her skin meets his, he looks at you with the most breathtaking smile.

She clings to him like a lifeline, her cheek squished against his chest and her tiny hands spread on his collarbones. "Look," he whispers to you with watery eyes. "Look at her."

"I know. She loves you already."

His gaze is now focused on you, with an expression conveying so many emotions. You think he's never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you," he says.

Those two simple words are spoken with a heavy amount of sincerity. You know what they mean: Thank you for letting me be a father. Thank you for pushing through all the mental and physical changes again. Thank you for her.

You smile and blink back more tears. "All in a day's work."

Harry shakes his head as his eyes dance over your face. "You're the strongest person I know. I've never seen anything more incredible than what you just did."

"Thank you for helping me through it."

"I always will," he says while stroking your baby girl's back with his large hand. It almost engulfs her entire body.

"Are you insinuating we're going to have more babies?"

"You know I'd have a million with you. You're fuckin' perfect."

You slap his arm lazily. "Don't swear."

He leans in until his forehead touches yours. "Give me a kiss."

"Your lips are dry."

He licks his lips, and you meet his mouth. He hums and grins into the kiss, pulling away from you with a glint in his eyes. "I love you so much," he murmurs before glancing at his daughter. "Both of you. My heart beats for my girls."

"I love you."

A tiny hand suddenly hits Harry's mouth. He sputters a laugh and grabs it, kissing it repeatedly until she lets out a gurgle. He laughs in disbelief and hikes her up to smell her head, the baby scent being one of his favorite parts about having a newborn.

"Already a daddy's girl," you slur tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

He puckers endless kisses onto her head. "Think I'll keep you forever, angel," he tells her. "Is that okay? Hmm? Gonna be my snuggle bug when I need it the most?"

Her eyes remain closed, and her lips smack as she lets out a silent cry. You look at Harry, and you find him absolutely mesmerized by her. Every small movement she makes, every change in facial expression, every noise that comes from her—he's watching it all with proud eyes and a permanent smile.

No other man would you want as your husband. No other man would you want to be the father of your babies.

——

8:40 PM

It's been a little over an hour since you gave birth, and since then, you've been moved to the bed after being cleaned up. You've just finished breastfeeding and now lie with her in your arms as you try to fall asleep next to Harry. He's still making calls to his loved ones to tell them the news, and each time he does, he gets emotional all over again when the person on the other line gasps or screams with joy.

He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, and part of his hair is held back with one of your daughter's pink butterfly clips. You're both running on empty but have never been more blissfully content as she sleeps, her body wrapped in a white swaddle and a baby beanie snug on her head.

The windows are open, letting the ocean breeze waft in and cool your body's dull ache. The midwife had been kind enough to bring you snacks, leaving ice water, a plate of crackers, and a bowl of strawberry yogurt for you on the nightstand. There was an instance when Harry asked for a spoonful of your yogurt, and when you fed it to him, some dropped onto your baby's cheek. You both broke into silent laughter until she got fussy from your movements. Or maybe it was from the cold dollop of yogurt on her sensitive skin. Either way, it was entertaining.

Now, you drift off beside him and feel the soft breaths of your baby girl on your breast as the linen curtains blow in time with the swelling waves meeting the shore.

"Are you awake?" Harry asks quietly after he ends another call.

"Barely," you whisper into his sleeve. It smells like heaven.

He kisses your temple and inhales deeply. "I just got off the phone with my boss. He says congratulations and to name her after him."

You release a laugh laced with drowsiness. "I don't think she'd appreciate being named after an ornery old man."

"True. That was the last call I needed to make, by the way." He scoots down the bed and gently nuzzles his head into your side. "Get some rest. I'll be quiet now."

"I don't want to miss anything," you say, even though your eyes have been involuntarily closing for the past ten minutes.

He lightly scratches up and down your arm. "She's sleeping, my love."

"I know, but what if she does something cute?"

"Then I'll wake you up."

"Promise?" Your eyes droop once again with overpowering fatigue.

"I promise." He seals it with a tender kiss on your shoulder. "You need—"

A knock on the bedroom door interrupts him and makes your head turn toward the sound. The knob jiggles for a few seconds before the door slowly opens with a creak to reveal your daughter standing there. She's holding her favorite blanket, her thumb tucked in her mouth. You assume Harry's mother must have just arrived and is letting her have some alone time with the both of you.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry says softly. "Come here. We've got a surprise for you."

She cautiously shuffles over to the edge of the bed and inspects the sleeping bundle in your arms. "Did you have fun with Grandma today?" you ask her.

She nods distractedly, her eyes still glued to the baby. Harry smiles and picks her up, setting her on his lap. "That's your baby sister," he explains. "You're officially a big sister now."

She looks at him. "Where?"

He lets out a breathy chuckle and shifts her closer to the baby. "Right here, sweetheart. She's sleeping, so you have to be quiet."

"Oh," she whispers. You and Harry exchange smiles.

"Isn't she pretty?" you ask.

"Yeah." Her voice is still a whisper as she pokes the baby's fists. "So little."

"She is," Harry says with a sniffle. "You were once that little. You have no idea how perfectly you fit in my arms."

You kiss her cherubic cheek. "Do you want to hold her?"

She glances at Harry as if to ask for permission, and he nods his head in encouragement. He positions her between the two of you, and then you maneuver the baby into her arms while ensuring the head is supported.

The sight is something out of a dream. How attentive she is to her new baby sister, admiring her like a delicate flower, examining her closely like a beautiful specimen, gently touching her nose and puckered lips. She keeps looking at you and Harry when the baby wiggles or makes a noise, a look of pure innocence and curiosity that brings more heartfelt tears to your eyes.

You eventually peel your gaze away from her and find Harry staring at you. A tear falls from his bottom eyelashes, his nostrils flaring from residual emotions hitting him. Reaching over, you thumb away the teardrop and focus on the bay window. The sun has dived below the darkening horizon, allowing stars to faintly dot the sky. Cicadas buzz in nearby bushes, and the night tides of the ocean collide with the sand that will soon be illuminated by the moon.

It's quiet in the bedroom, with nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the occasional coo from the baby. Your family of three is now four, and you've never felt more full of love. The world around you is serene, just like it was during the sunrise before she came into the world.

California dusk has brought you an angel.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #dadrry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur #california dusk

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neonsbian · 3 months ago

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BEST WAYV SONG TOURNAMENT 2025

i had a lot of fun doing this last year so i thought it'd be fun to do this again for wayv's 6th anniversary! its an even bigger bracket because we got 18 new songs in 2024 and i included every officially released song, including multiple language versions and subunit songs. that being said, here's the bracket!

the tournament is complete, links to all the polls under the cut!

ROUND 1:

frequency (chn) vs frequency (kor)

give me that (chn) vs give me that (kor)

on my youth (chn) vs (on my youth (eng)

back to you (chn) vs back to you (eng)

kick back (chn) vs kick back (kor)

bad alive (chn) vs bad alive (eng)

turn back time (chn) vs turn back time (kor)

unbreakable vs high five

twist vs stand by me

love talk (chn) vs love talk (eng)

ROUND 2:

lighthouse vs nectar

all for love vs say it

only human vs everytime

let me love u vs go higher

king of hearts vs action figure

images vs electric hearts

after midnight vs what a good time

up from here vs bandage

low low vs invincible

moonlight vs don't look back

face to face vs she a wolf

we go nanana vs dream launch

miracle vs might as well

tempo vs rodeo

broken love vs yeah yeah yeah

poppin love vs good time

new ride vs be alright

bounce back vs sleepless

horizon vs don't get mad

ain't no thang vs good life

diamonds only vs take off

interlude: awaken the world vs try my luck

regular vs call me

deep ocean vs no one but you

come back vs phantom

welcome to my paradise vs filthy rich

love talk (eng) vs moonwalk

kick back vs domino

frequency vs give me that

on my youth vs back to you

bad alive vs turn back time

unbreakable vs twist

ROUND 3:

give me that vs on my youth

domino vs call me

all for love vs only human

let me love u vs action figure

electric hearts vs after midnight

bandage vs low low

moonlight vs she a wolf

dream launch vs miracle

turn back time vs unbreakable

moonwalk vs rodeo

broken love vs poppin love

new ride vs bounce back

horizon vs ain't no thang

take off vs try my luck

nectar vs deep ocean

phantom vs filthy rich

ROUND 4:

on my youth vs domino

all for love vs action figure

after midnight vs low low

moonlight vs miracle

turn back time vs moonwalk

poppin love vs bounce back

ain't no thang vs take off

nectar vs phantom

QUARTERFINALS:

on my youth vs action figure

after midnight vs miracle

moonwalk vs poppin love

take off vs nectar

SEMIFINALS:

on my youth vs after midnight

poppin love vs nectar

FINALS:

after midnight vs poppin love

#wayv #best wayv song tournament 2025

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cherryblossomcowgirl · 6 months ago

Text

Hangman’s First Rodeo

MASTERLIST PINNED

Warnings: NONE

WC: 2.1k

I put my car in park and let out a long sigh. After a quick check in the rear view mirror, I wonder if I made the right decision wearing no makeup and letting my hair be wild and free. Bradley heard from someone in administration that I got asked to arrive earlier than expected to the North Shore, so he extended an invite to the Hard Deck. When he texted me, I immediately felt bad seeing how often he had reached out just to be left on read. It was nothing personal, he has been one of my closest friends for a decade, I just needed space. I finally decided it was time to stop stewing in my thoughts and take the key out of the ignition.

The bar is crowded with patrons in khakis. Loud music and chatter fill the room. I scan the room and find Bradley, he motions me over to the back of the bar where there are pool tables and dart boards. He immediately wraps me in a hug, “Rodeo! It’s been too damn long.” I smile up at him, “I know Rooster, I know.” He starts pointing out people in the group and listing names, “This is Bob, that’s Phoenix, Coyote is over there, there’s Yale, and where is .. oh there.. that’s Bagman.” The blonde turns around with a smirk, “It’s Hangman, Bradshaw. And who is this?” Bradley stiffens, “This is Rodeo.” The blonde looks me up and down with the same little smirk, then turns back to his game of darts. I stand near the pool table and watch as Bradley starts a game with Phoenix. Since I regularly work with aviators, making small talk was easy. Once the blonde wins the game of darts, he walks over and stands beside me. He smells like jet fuel and sandalwood. I look at his arms, toned and tan. I tell myself to calm down. I am here for work, nothing else. “Bradshaw here didn’t get you a drink?” I turn to him, “I am fine, but thanks.” His eyes narrow slightly and he smiles, “I am not hitting on you, darling. But I am about to go get another beer from Miss Penny up there.” I chuckle and stare right back into his bright green eyes, “Well I am happy we cleared that up, darling. You aren’t my type and I don’t drink.” I do a very large and obviously fake smile. Hangman furrows his brow and walks away, looking flustered. Bradley walks over and is giggling uncontrollably, “What did you do to Bagman?” I shrug, “I just told him he wasn’t my type and that I don’t drink.” Bradley put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, “Man, I missed you. He annoys the shit out of all of us and somehow you put him in his place within 30 minutes of meeting him.” The rest of the group laughs and chimes in, agreeing with Bradley.

The night continues on with countless games of pool and darts. We all end up outside, some sitting in the sand and some with their feet in the water. Bradley plops down next to me and bumps me with his shoulder, “Dude, I missed you. You gonna tell me why they moved you here?” I stare at the waves crashing on the sand, “You too, Roo. I am not even completely sure. Thought you had something to do with it because it was Mav who called me.” Rooster raised his brows, “He didn’t say anything to me.” I shrug again, staring at the group of aviators standing by the ocean. Bradley can see the concern on my face and pats my back, “Hey, don’t worry. They’re good. Well, except Bagman.” He chuckles and I hear a familiar voice shout, “Senior Chief Rodeo? Now why is Rooster keeping you all to himself?” I turn and see Maverick walking down from the Hard Deck, smiling big as can be. “Mav!” I run and give him a big squeeze. What I didn’t notice was the group walking back from the water, or that they heard him yell to me. As they reach Bradley, Pheonix asks, “Senior Chief Petty Officer? How the hell old is she?” Rooster faces her, “She is not old. She just works her ass off.” I walk back to the group with Mav, wondering why they are all looking at me. Hangman breaks the silence, “So Senior Chief Rodeo, can you clue me in on your skincare routine? I coulda sworn you were the same age as all of us.” I roll my eyes, “Y’all’s age? No way. I’m 28, what are you .. 40?” I take a moment to watch their eyes bug out, and then start walking back inside with Mav and Bradley. Bradley slaps my back, “You haven’t changed a bit. Still an absolute asshole. Love it.” We pay our tabs and head back to get some sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the blank walls of my little bungalow, wondering what the morning will bring.

Once I jumped out of my truck on base, I could feel eyes on me. The group from last night were all chatting by the hangar, in their flight suits and aviators. I was in civies and a Longhorn baseball cap. Bradley parked beside me and jumps out, “You are so damn lucky. I swear y’all are never in uniform.” I chuckle, “I know, but hey y’all don’t look too bad in your onesies.” He sighs and throws his bag over his shoulder, “10 bucks they shit themselves when Mav tells them your job.” I put my hand out to shake on it, “Deal. It’s nothing special. I am pretty curious to know why I am here anyways.”

The aviators are all seated when Mav and I walk into the hangar. Mav claps his hands, “Okay ladies and gents, I’d like to introduce you to my friend. This is Senior Chief Petty Officer y/l/n, callsign Rodeo.” There’s a few “Good morning”s and “Hello”s in response. I wave. Mav continues, “As you know, we have had quite a few missions recently with the SEAL teams. As you also know, we have some areas where we need to green up when it comes to working with the SEALs. So, Coronado was nice enough to lend us Rodeo for a bit. As we go through this training session, she will be your point of reference.” I scan the room and shake my head at the shocked look on everyone’s face. Hangman clears his throat and smirks, “So .. she is some kind of liaison? Works with the SEAL teams?” Mav narrows his eyes, “No, she IS a SEAL and she will be helping us learn how to work better with them.” I meet Bradley’s eyes and pull out a $10 bill. Walking over to his seat, I set it on the table in front of him. I turn back around, “C’mon y’all. I am just a female SEAL, I don’t have three heads or snakes for hair.” There is scattered laughter and Mav clears his throat, “Okay people, get to work. Rodeo will be in the hangar or my office if you need her.” The pilots disperse and I follow Mav to start looking over training procedures and past mission optics.

The first couple of weeks were exhausting. Work was extremely busy and when I was home, I was unpacking. The bungalow was coming together nicely. It is right by the beach, so I can take daily strolls down by the water. I open up another box and my phone dings.

Bradley: Y/N! No excuses. Bonfire. My house.

Less than ten seconds later it dings again.

Bradley: I am serious. You can literally walk here. No excuses.

I sigh and write back.

Y/N: Okay, but only for a bit. I still have a lot of shit to build.

I walk into my bedroom and do a once over in the mirror. Jean shorts, white tank top, and a baseball cap. I grab a hoodie just in case and head down the street.

I hear music playing and smell smoke as I get close to Bradley’s house. I open up the back gate to the whole squad in the backyard. Hangman smirks, “Well howdy Rodeo. Fancy seeing you here.” Bradley runs up and wraps you in a hug, “You actually came! What do you need help building?” The squad all starts chiming in before you can respond. “Oh I can help!” “Where do you live?” “Did you walk here?” I wait for the chatter to die down, “I’m right up the street. Only have a few of the bigger things left. Bookcase, bed frame, that kinda stuff.” Bradley throws his arm around your shoulders, “I’ll come over tomorrow and get it all built.” I look up at him, “No! It’s the weekend! You should relax. I’ll get it all done eventually.” The rest of them start offering to come help and before you know it, everyone is planning on coming to your house. The house that is littered with boxes. I cringe and think about all of the tidying I need to do before they arrive. I head inside and grab a coke from Bradley’s fridge. The floor creaks and I whip around to see Hangman. “Sorry darling, didn’t mean to scare ya.” “What do you want, Hangman?” “Well I was just thinking that maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Thought maybe we could start over.” You laughed, “And what had you thinking that?” He shrugged, “I was a total jerk. You can ask around, I am THE unit asshole. But I honestly didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Wasn’t raised that way.” You look up at him, “How were you raised?” He smiles real wide, “In Texas. Yes sir and yes ma’am. Two sisters that dragged me around and told me what to do. You from Texas? Or just a Longhorn fan?” He asks while motioning towards your baseball cap. “From Texas. No college for me, though. Enlisted, boot camp, prep, BUDs. Nothing too exciting.” Hangman chuckled and shook his head, “Yeah, totally, nothing too exciting at all. How long have you been in?” “10 years. How about you?” “Got in right after college, 16 years ago. Remember? I am old.” He winks and I feel heat in my cheeks. He steps a little bit closer, “So are you and Bradshaw.. you know?” I laugh so hard that I snort. The back door opens up and Bradley looks between us, raising his brow. I finally stop laughing, “No. We met at my first duty station. He is the annoying older brother I never asked for.” Bradley rolls his eyes, “Hangman, leave Rodeo alone.” I walk towards Bradley and playfully nudge him with my elbow, “It’s fine. We are just getting to know each other.” Bradley shakes his head, “I know. That’s exactly what I am worried about.” I laugh and follow Bradley back to the bonfire. Hangman comes out a few minutes later and I say my goodbyes to the group. I am met with groans and “No please stay”s. Hangman clears his throat, “Let me walk you back, it’s getting pretty late.” Pheonix whispers something to Bob and they both crack up. Bradley turns, “Bagman, I think she will be just fine.” I nod my head, “Yeah I think I can handle myself, but thank you.” Hangman shakes his head and stands up, “Darling we already talked about this, I am a southern man. Can’t let you walk back all by yourself. Even though you are a big, bad SEAL.” He smiles and opens the gate, motioning for me to walk ahead. Bradley is noticeably angry and I smile at him, “It’s okay, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Hangman follows me until we reach the front porch. He scans the little bungalow, “Cute place. I’ll see you tomorrow .. wait I just realized I only know your callsign.” I chuckle, “Same. Unless your mother named you Hangman.” He laughs and puts out his hand, “Jake Seresin.” I shake his hand, “Y/n Y/l/n.” I grab my keys and unlock the front door, “Well, thank you for walking me back Jake. See you tomorrow?” He smiles so wide you can see every one of his perfectly straight teeth, “Yes ma’am. You sure will.” He turns and starts back up the street. I walk inside and shut the door, leaning my head against it for a second. I shake my head in attempts to get rid of the thoughts of him. His smell. His annoyingly perfect smile. I text Bradley to let him know I got back safe and head to bed.

#jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #glen powell x reader #hangman x reader #top gun #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake hangman fic #hangman fic #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick fics

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anarchic-miscellany · 29 days ago

Text

Reading "One Piece" for the first time: Part 19 Is there a form we can fill out to get a different protagonist? Like, can I appeal to a higher authority? Can we get Naoki Urasawa to write a couple of chapters? Our gang are hiking through the desert in between flashbacks to the Princess' backstory and her talk of rebellion. Our Idiot protagonist has the switch in his head flipped to "bored now, doing this" and decides not to take part in the rebellion because he wants to fight the crocodile man instead; and gives a big rambling talk about how people are going to die and it's naive to think that people won't. My good slut: Your ENTIRE personality for this series has been "no! There's always a 3rd option and people mustn't die!" It comes completely out of nowhere and less like an arc and more like a guest writer who hates Ohda for sleeping with his wife has taken over the chapter.

At least the Himbo has been put on the backburner, and Giga Chad shows some concern for his fellow buddies (more than our Idiot protagonist, funny that...) in the heat of the desert, particularly Blue Nosed Reindeer whom he is concerned for the health of (though that may be because he does not want the meat to spoil). Meanwhile Idiot is just being a melodramatic bitch about the water now, like his personality is determined by a fucking roulette wheel...

We have the rather boring goons of the Crocodile Man discuss their evil schemes around the table; including the return of Rodeo Stripper the most interesting one! The gang seem shocked and surprised that he is an evil pirate... Guys, in your line of work (toppling regimes and subsuming the cities from beneath them) do you think you're going to be working with many orphanages and philanthropic nuns? Fuck me, everybody in this Universe has the brain of a sock drawer... Except no, we get the best fucking guy Smoker back! He's having a drink at the bar, Cop on the Edge that he is, with his assistant Girl Uryu from "Bleach"; when Idiot and Meme in Progress Usopp come in desperate for a drink of water. It takes a while, but they notice Captain Smoker and leg it, out into the street.

Now this is something I'm down for in terms of an action sequence: we've had the King building up to his attack on Crocodile, Crocodile planning his own thing (him only knowing the existence of 5 of the crew and The Princess and not Giga Chad Sanji because he was back on the boat having a smoke and making fish is funny, and I'm glad that plot point came back, I hope that they do something with it) and the rebellion building its forces all converging. Himbo not fighting Girl Uryu was odd, but hey, it's nice character suff and I hope it also builds to something.

Then our Idiot is caught in quite possibly the easiest trap ever conceived, and praises the genius of it: ending up locked in a cage in the Crocodile Casino (which I think is a Jethro Tull album) alongside his crew and Smoker.

Are we sure that I can't swap him out for somebody else? Don't get me wrong he's not as annoying or loathsome as Chadda Darkmane (fun fact: I hate him so much I got his first name wrong) or Lelouch Lamperouge but holy fucking shit.

BUT

This kind of thing is my jam: a favourite thing of mine is "gritted teeth enemies forced to work together" and Smoker is absolutely fucking fantastic, I want way more of him, so having him team up with the crew to plan an escape (let him plan it, because fuck I think I actually actively dislike the protagonist of this series?) is fun.

Also, the princess is kidnapped by a machine gun bird and Smoker reveals the existence of magic ocean rocks which block Fruit Powers. Sure.

Sure.

#Reading one Piece for the First Time #One Piece #Manga #Idiot #Himbo #Giga Chad #Cartographer with a Brain Cell #Meme in Progress #Smoker #Crocodile #Crocodile One Piece #Monkey D Luffy #Sanji #Nami #Usopp #Blue Nosed Reindeer #tony tony chopper

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sstan-hoe · 2 years ago

Text

Give You a Ride

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — cowboy!steve rogers × fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — you had your eyes on him for a long time...finally something happens but you have to follow one rule; the cowboy rule...

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — SMUT; very little oral, dirty talk, p in v, (use protection!) kinda unprotected sex? reader could be on the pill or smh

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — this is just a little steve drabble so I at least have one fic of him, but idk how to feel about this one!!! reblog, comment and follow!!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You sat alone at the bar, waiting for the rodeo to start. Even though you weren't a big fan of the sport, you were a huge fan of the blonde cowboy.

While all of them were good looking, he was by far the prettiest. You had your eyes on him for some time now, but he never seemed to notice you.

However you also didn't have the courage to ask him out. You were sure, no you saw how many women swooned over him.

In comparison to them you felt small, they knew what they were doing. Maybe that was what he wanted?

On the other side of the bar Steve Rogers couldn’t take his eyes off you. For a few months now he wanted to ask you out, but never did he know how until today.

He waited patiently for his turn on the mechanical bull. Once it was time he put on his cowboy hat and sat down on the bull.

"And now our favourite cowboy! Ladies, keep your panties on, Steve Rogers!" a man behind the microphone announced, catching everyone's attention.

Steve wasn’t a flirt, but he was well aware of his looks and charm. However unlike Bucky he used them carefully.

You sat down excited to see Steve break his own record, watch the way he flexed his muscles as he held onto the moving bull.

Little sweat pearls rolling down his forehead, his mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath.

A few loose strands fall into his handsome face. You felt the need to brush them away, oh how you wished you could. The urge became stronger with every second that passed, you got lost in your thoughts.

All you could think of was his, how his hands would grip your waist as he would fuck you into the mattress, how soft he would be afterwards. The way lips would feel on every inch of your body, the pleasure he would grant you.

Suddenly everyone clapped and cheered, Steve had broken his own record – again. You snapped out of it and saw how he got off the bull.

He grinned while walking towards the crowd. The blonde took off his hat, behind you the women were screaming for him. You stayed silent, not knowing what was going on.

Then he came to a stop in front of you, "hello, bunny," his voice deep, "I think you'd look quite good with my hat," Steve gave you a smirk before placing his hat on your head.

He was right, you looked beautiful. If he could he'd never let you take his hat off.

He was right, you looked beautiful. If he could he'd never let you take his hat off. You were frozen in your spot, having no idea what to do. Your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was happening at the moment.

Steve held out his hand for you to take which you took without hesitation. Your eyes found his blues, they were like an ocean and you wanted to drown in them.

“Let me take you for a ride,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, goosebumps trailed down your spine. God, his voice was like music to your ears.

“Yes, please,” you responded, pressing your body against his. Suddenly you felt hot, every fiber in your body yearned for more touch of Steve. The cowboy wrapped his arm around your waist and led you off the stage.

You couldn’t believe your luck, finally after all this time he saw you and even if it was only for one night you would enjoy it. Get it out of your system.

Steve was ecstatic, his plan worked and now he had you finally for himself. The two of you didn’t even make it to his room before he kissed you, he couldn’t wait any longer.

Your lips moved in sync, his were as soft as a pillow and oh, so gentle. There was no demand in the kiss, only passion, passion that only grew with every moment.

Your back hit the wooden door causing you to gasp, Steve took it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. A dance started between you, who would win it? Who would dominate the other.

Steve unlocked the door behind you and pushed you through the doorway until your back hit the soft cushions of the bed.

With a smirk Steve made sure the hat sat right on you before he unbuttoned your trousers. "Look at this pretty thong my bunny is wearing, only for me?" He asked, his nose almost touching yours.

"Mhm, only for you," you arched your back in an attempt to get closer to him.

Steve let his hand trail beneath your lace thong, as soon as his fingers felt the wetness a low groan slipped from his lips.

"God, bunny, you're drenched…tell me why…, come on tell your cowboy," a hint of pleading was in his voice. Steve wasn't one to beg, and he didn't beg now. The blonde wanted you needy and desperate – as if you weren't already.

"It was–, was you…," a whine pushed past your lips as Steve entered your leaking hole with one finger, "go on," his voice deep, commending.

"On the–, bull, fuck!" You moaned when he curled his fingers and pressed his on your sensitive nub.

"I think it's time you fulfill your duty, bunny," before you could process his words you were on your knees. Steve had unbuckled his pants and found his place next to you.

"Come 'ere," he held his hand out just like he did before. You however weren't sure what to do which resulted in hesitation, an action Steve noticed.

"What's wrong bunny? Don'tcha know the cowboy rule?" a part of him was taunting you, but it only turned you on.

A bit bummed you shook your head, shy to admit it. Steve chuckled deeply and guided you onto his lap, he took out his hard cock. The tip was already leaking with precum, making a little mess on his white dress shirt.

Your eyes widened when you saw his thick girth, wondering how he'd fit inside you.

"Let me give you a little lesson," the blonde said and slowly pushed you down onto his cock. Your drenched cunt working as the perfect lube.

A loud whine fell from your lips, it hurt. He stretched you out and thanks to his length you were sure you felt him in your stomach.

"When a cowboy gives you their head, you have to ride him," Steve whispered, sitting up to lean against the headboard as he titles your chin up.

The thought of riding him had you unknowingly move your hips slightly.

"Have you rode a cowboy before, bunny?" He asked with a smirk and met your light movements. You couldn't get one word out, only shaking your head.

"Then I think it's time," were his last words before he grabbed your waist and moved your hips. It was a weird feeling at first, but the pleasure it brought you made up for it.

You moaned with every thrust you made, everytime you would hit that spot. You wanted more of him, rolled your hips faster and chased your high. Steve groaned, held tight onto you as you were so tight he had a hard time keeping himself from coming.

He was sure if you'd continue squeezing him like that he would explode.

"Yes, ride me, ride me like the slutty little bunny you are. Are you my bunny?" he laced his hand around your neck, squeezing gently yet demanding.

"Answer me," he ordered once more, you couldn't. The pleasure felt too overwhelming, a knot formed in your stomach.

Steve felt you getting tighter, he grabbed your hips and held you down and destroyed the process of your orgasm.

"You wanna come? You answer me bunny, you want to be my good bunny right…ride my cock, make your cowboy feel good…," his voice intense with no room for arguments.

"Yes, yes, yes! I'm your bunny, only yours!" You shouted, needing to quicken your pace again.

Steve nodded in approval, "good bunny," was all he said before letting go of your hips, but still keeping a hand on your throat.

A loud pornographic moan slipped from you, "imma come, Steve, let me come, please," you begged pathetically.

Steve smirked and leaned back, his hand trailing from your throat to your clit to rub tight circles.

"Come my slutty little bunny, but remember…the night's not over yet."

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | I do have a taglist however it has conditions that must be followed — you can follow @sstanhoe-updates for updates without anything

𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑶𝑵𝑬 — @smile1318 @wintasssoldier @xcaptain-winterx @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @broadwaybabe18 @jobean12-blog @buckymcu12 @daemonslittlebitch @shara-ne @lou-la-lou @pomegranatearildreams

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x y/n #my golden boy 💫#steve rogers au #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fic

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