#he still bought her and told her shes his wife now

[bogleech]

I know nothing about the manga "my wife has no emotion" but rev and I watched the first couple episodes of the anime and I don't think we were invested the way you're intended to be. Nothing his robot says or does, at least in those first couple episodes, is actually outside the realm of what any current chat bot could achieve so it just reads as a dangerously depressed man anthropomorphizing his food processor, and that is canonically what it is. It's not even marketed as a robot wife. It's just a cook that downloads recipes from the cloud. He just falls in love with it and interprets its algorithmic reactions like maybe, just maybe this corporate product he bought is self aware enough that it cares about him.

I'm sure the series goes on to evolve the characters and get more complicated than that, and/or creepy with its obvious fetish slant in the usual anime ways but episodes 1-3 at least are like a morbidly funny glimpse into the tech industry's disturbingly believable future. By the time he's taking the kitchen appliance on a public date for everyone to see and crying over it when it runs low on battery you just want to scream sense into him before the second hand embarrassment kills you both.

Like there was definitely a time when I was younger that I'd have immediately bought into the suggestion that this robot character is conscious but in 2024 it's like "oh god. that is a stainless steel mannequin driven around by chatgpt and that actually is going to be everywhere by the 2040's, tops"

[todayisafridaynight]

One of my fave jackets is this green jacket with a fur hood im wearin rn because 1.) its green 2.) my dad gave it to me 3.) it reminds me of saejima. Who also reminds me of my dad

[turtlemagnum]

when i was younger and hung out around my uncle a lot more than i do now, i remember whenever he referred to things regarding his native heritage, he always just called it "indian". called himself an indian, called the words he taught us indian, so on. since i was a little kid who didn't know any better, i didn't know that "indian" in the context of indigenous americans was a very broad, frankly bastardized term to paint a vast variety of cultures spanning two whole damn continents with one brush. it only occurred to me as i got much older than i was at the time that there'd be more than one "indian" language, and up until now since i had no idea what tribe(s) he even is i couldn't even begin to know where to look unless i found a download of every goddamn interlingual dictionary available and painstakingly checked every godddamn one for what their word for "thunder" is

the word he taught us meant thunder was hiloha. i didn't even know how to spell it until now, because he only ever said it aloud. literally just a few minutes ago, i decided to ask my grandma (his sister) if we knew what tribe(s) he belonged to. and apparently he's a mix of choctaw and makah. which gave me a lead, which led to me finding a dictionary on libgen, which led to me word searching "thunder" in the choctaw to english dictionary. it's the only word i remember him teaching us, and i'm unsure if he ever tried teaching us others. but it was his dogs name, and he was a damn good boy, so i remembered it clear as day. though, they normally shortened it to "hilo".

so, i guess what came out of this is that i now know a bit more about my uncle's heritage, and where to look for more research. so, if you're gonna have a takeaway from this, i'd appreciate it if you remembered the word "hiloha". it means thunder. and aside from being the name of a very good boy who deserves to be remembered, i think it's even more important to remember the histories, cultures, and of course the languages of all the indigenous folks who came before us and did their damndest to preserve their cultures in spite of it all.

[kissitbttr]

pregnancy was never easy. if it was, fathers could do it.

and truly it was something that toji had learned throughout being married to you and seeing your belly swell with your baby girl. the constant mood swings, back pains, cravings and all. but toji is a wonderful husband. for that, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

anything you want, you get even if your midnight cravings hit. toji will still get up and get dressed before drive to the nearest store that has your favorite red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting.

but being pregnant also means that toji has gotten far more protective than usual. more staying by your side, more checking up on you through his phone, more hiring security cameras and guards to keep you safe. despite your protests, he still thinks it’s necessary.

“sweethea—what the heck?” toji grumbles, eyes almost popping out of his sockets to see you’re not beside him. eyes glancing left and right and that’s where the panic begins to seep into him. “fuck” he scrambles out of the bed, seeing the clock hits at two am,

“no, no, no—“ he feels bead of sweats racing on his temples before slipping on his shoes and a shirt over his head. thinking that something might have happened to you.

god, i can’t go through this. not again. not you. please, please, not you.

toji may not have been the most religious man that has ever walked on earth. but he will beg on his knees and plead to the man up above to never take you away from him,

and just as he about to grab a gun off his safe, he hears the refrigerator door shut downstairs. the sounds making him halt as he quick to whip his head to the source of it.

his eyebrows then furrowed, putting the weapon down carefully before stepping out of your shared room. sometimes he curses himself for buying a home far too big because now he feels like it’s an eternity coming down the stairs. but again, he bought it for you.

the living room lights are already turned off, the only dimmed light he could see is from the kitchen. not only that, but he could hear the metals clinking. so slowly, with ever so confusion written across his face, toji approaches slowly

and there you are ever in your glory, body draped in your favorite pink silky robe sitting on the floor with your back against the fridge. a plate of not one but two red velvet cake slice in your hand as the other forks your way through the delicious treat.

toji heaves out a breathe of relief, knowing that nothing had happened to you. and the noise is loud enough for you to stop chewing and look up. eyes widen at your husband’s figure standing only a few feet away,

“hi” your voice sounds small. almost like embarrassed because you feel like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie off the jar,

“sweetheart” the nickname falls from his mouth like he’s happy to see you after being a part for so long. “what are you doing?”

your mouth slowly begin to chew, a cute smile making its way as your eyes glinting with innocence that toji can’t deny but feel like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

“the baby is hungry” is the only thing you can muster to a response, like it’s an obvious thing. “she wants cake” you giggle quietly,

oh yes, he is definitely falling harder for you again

“the baby is—“ he sighs, hands coming up to rub his face up and down. not because he’s upset but rather amused. “she wanted red velvet cake?”

“mhmm!” you nod vigorously, taking another big bite of the dessert. “and cream cheese frosting!”

and for the first time in a while, toji laughs with his head shaking at the sight of his beautiful wife eating cake at two am. “she told you that?”

“yes! i heard her whisper to me before i go to bed ‘mama.. can we eat the cake? but wait until dada goes to sleep’ because she knows how dada doesn’t allow mama to eat cakes” you smile at him, doing your best of baby voice. licking the cream off the utensil,

toji is grinning so hard he feels like his cheeks are hurting, his eyes are full of love when he looks at you and the little girl you’re growing in there,

“well dada is just taking care of mama so she will be healthy. she needs veggies and whole foods” he takes another step closer, sliding next to you. his eyes never leaving yours, looking at you so lovingly by the way you eat. “i thought something happened to you.. i was panicking”

you pout, not wanting to cause anymore distress on him. “i’m sorry i shouldn’t have done that. but i couldn’t wake you up, you looked exhausted”

he frowns, bending his knees close to his chest. “you should’ve. i would gladly grab the cake for you hence you asked, baby” he leans forward and kiss your temple,

a grateful smile places on your lips, humming in a contentment at the feeling of his soft mouth on your skin. “hmm, i know—“ you cradle his cheek with your free palm, thumbing against his cheekbone and down to his scar.

he used to be so insecure about it until you made him not to be. giving so much praises and kisses about the scar that you think look so hot on him.

“want some?” you extend a spoonful of the cake towards his mouth, in which he opens almost immediately, biting onto the sweet goodness. “how lucky i am to have you, mr. y/l/n”

he laughs, wiping the walnut crumbs off the corner of his lips. “i should be the one saying that to you, doll”

maybe second chances do exist. and it’s a privilege for a person to earn one. toji may had done very questionable things in the past that would make a person think twice in befriending him, let alone married to him but change is real.

and the flaws are what makes it him. it’s one of the reason you are drawn to this beautiful man. because despite every negative seed he may have in him, he still tries. trying and trying to be the person you deserve and the father that your baby girl deserve.

it upsets you to no end knowing that everyone can’t see that. they just see him as a cold, reserved, selfish man who keeps himself closed from the world to see. they don’t see the tears he had shed almost every night for failing to be perfect, they don’t see him having a small banter with you because he wanted to take your last name, they don’t see the amount of times he locked himself in his room because of people talkinh, they don’t see him always rushing out of his office on fridays because he wants to get home before you do just so he can cook your favorite dish,

they don’t see all of that but toji doesn’t care. he doesn’t need their validation nor approval. he just needs yours.

because it’s you he always comes home to. you are his salvation. you are his peace. you are his dream came true.

you, you, you, you.

before you could protest, he presses his lips against yours and move his hand down to your bump,

“happy doesn’t even begin to describe how grateful i am to be your husband”

[fictionalmenxyn]

᯾𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬᯾

Pairing: dad!husband!rafe x mom!wife!reader

Pt.2 of honey, I’m home (as requested!)

Warnings: language, mentions of period and pregnancy

᯾᯾᯾

It’s been a couple weeks since Rafe had gotten home from his business trip for Cameron Development. Life has been amazing… up until the week that was supposed to be your period.

You are now five days late… this wasn’t like you. Even Rafe knew you had a regular period. He had the app for you, so he knew when to give you even more attention and loving. Which he does, this time only more.

You were currently over TannyHill. The kids wanted to go see their Aunt Sarah. So that’s exactly what you were up to now. You had bought pregnancy tests earlier that morning. Planning on doing them soon, just to be sure.

You and Rafe always wanted a big family. I mean, you can from one. And Rafe loved your family dearly, loving how they were practically like his siblings… even if it’s just through marriage. He loved them like his own.

You told Sarah, “hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom, can you keep an eye on these?” Gesturing to the boys who were playing trucks in the grass of the backyard. She smiled and nodded “of course, you go do what you need to.”

You walked back into the house, going over to your bag. You pulled out the box and put them into your pocket.

After sometime, waiting for the sticks to work. You held up the first one. You took a deep breath. Oh. My. God… you’re pregnant… really?? Or is it just the first stick… you go to check the other one.. oh, this also says the same…

Oh my god…

You’re pregnant… actually pregnant… again!

You head back to the backyard, Sarah asked “everything, okay? You took a while…” Sarah joked “didn’t get lost did you?” Knowing full well that you knew TannyHill like the back of your hand.

You smiled softly “no… but this…” you handed her the pregnancy test.

This felt normal for you. Sarah was the first to know since she’d always go to the drug store with you to buy them. Also cause she was like a sister to you. Sis you don’t have sisters. Just brothers.

She gasped “no way?! Really!!” You nodded “but don’t go telling anyone outside of the family… it’s only been a week since I’ve been late of my period, okay?” She nodded.

Later that day, Ward and Rose knew. Rose knew because she just had that ‘feeling’ and Ward walked in when Rose gasped lot of excitement. Thinking something was wrong he went to go check, that’s when he was told.

It was now evening, Rafe would be coming home from Golf soon. You sat on the couch. The boys playing on the rug with their toys as you watch the tv.

You heard the door open and your favourite voice “hey baby?! You here?!” You called out “living room!”

You could hear him put his golf clubs bag down in the foyer. Then his footsteps getting closer.

He sat on the couch next to you. Spreading his legs comfortably, and purposefully touching his knee with yours. As he’s always done since you both had been together. After he fussed the three boys. He rested his arms on the backs of the couches. His index finger tracing patterns into your shoulder.

“So? How’ve you been all day? You had fun with the kids up TannyHill?” You smiled softly and nodded. Taking another bite of a grape before holding the bowl out to him. Silently offering. He smirked “only if you feed me one.” You playfully roll your eyes.

As you fed Rafe one grape. Cody called out “me! Me!” Rafe smirked “think someone else wants to be fed a grape, sweetheart…” you hold one out for Cody… then Morgan… Toby was still too young to eat a big grape. So you fed him a snack puff.

You put Morgan on your lap, as he wanted some cuddles from you. You reached into your pocket and placed the pregnancy test on his lap. Like it was the most casual thing ever. You thought of different was each time to surprise him. But the casualness of it would be more surprising.

He lifted it up and saw the two lines. “No way… seriously?!” You held your hand to your face. Trying not to cry, like every other time. His smile grew as he saw you nod.

Rafe spoke loudly “Babe! Now way!? Are you fucking kidding me?!” You spoke playfully yet sternly “Rafe! Language!” He nodded “oh yeah, my bad…” he took Morgan off of your lap. Which Morgan pouted at. Rafe told Morgan “you’ll get her back, let daddy give momma some love, buddy.”

Rafe pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you into a soft yet passionate kiss. When he pulled away, Rafe spoke “god, you’re just the best, love, god, I love you so much…” you replied “I love you too…”

Morgan sensed the happiness after watching you two kiss. He called his fists and lifted his arms and yelled “Yay! Momma!” You and Rafe both laugh.

Rafe told Morgan “Yes, bud! Yay momma!” Cody and Toby come over. Rafe held both of your wrists and moved your arms up and down as he playfully chanted “momma! Momma! Momma!”

The boys, practically being carbon copies of him, soon joined in. All four of your boys started chanting “momma! Momma! Momma!”

After tha chanting died down, Rafe smirked “you better give me a girl this time, baby…” you laughed “I’ll try my best…” he smirked “good…” he gave you another kiss. God, you were his woman, his wife, mother of his children… his world

᯾᯾᯾

[sunniques]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

➺ PAIRING: kim taehyung x female reader

➺ GENRE: brother-in-law au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your sister’s selfish husband is unexpectedly sweet on you. maybe a little too much.

➺ CW/TW: brother-in-law!taehyung, toxic family dynamics, reader can be carried by taehyung, cheating, fingering, masturbation (m), oral sex (f & m), unprotected sex, creampies, (some) cum play

➺ WC: 4.4k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

Taehyung has always been selfish.

Ever since he was young, he would go around taking toys from other children because he thought he deserved to have them. It’s a habit he never fully grew out of, and even now as an adult he still goes around taking anything he wants. His undesirable disposition is hated by many, but not by his wife. (That’s only because she’s the exact same way.)

As the first born daughter of her family, she grew up spoiled rotten. Constantly being doted and placated on made his fiancé into a bratty woman with a terrible temper. It didn’t bother him so much because she never acted that way with him.

The same could not be said for her youngest sister.

From what Taehyung had gathered, you two weren’t particularly close. It made sense since you had often had to concede to your bratty sister. Being forced to share the doting attention and unconditional love from your parents had never sat well with her, and it didn’t change even now that you were both adults. As much as his in-laws tried to get his wife used to the idea of sharing, they simply couldn’t.

At least, not when it came to her things.

Taehyung didn’t often feel sympathy for others, but he couldn’t stand the way your parents and other siblings constantly indulged his wife at your expense. Being the sweet little angel you were, you never said anything. You selflessly accepted all the disappointments with that pretty smile he loved so much.

While your disappointment wasn’t always obvious, Taehyung still caught onto it even when your family didn’t. That’s why he took it upon himself to dote on you whenever he could. If there was anything you wanted, he got it for you. His praise and compliments were constant, and so were his affectionate hugs. Taehyung never cared that it bothered your sister because the fond way you looked at him made it all worth it.

That’s where his need to have you all for himself began, and the feeling only intensified when his wife demanded that he stay away from you. As a man who had always gotten what he wanted, Taehyung didn’t listen.

It’s the night of your college graduation, and you’re having the worst time of your life. Instead of the day being all about you, your family decided to celebrate your sister’s promotion. Originally, you were meant to go to a restaurant that everyone liked to celebrate both achievements. In a very unsurprising turn of events, your sister insisted that she wanted to go to her favorite restaurant knowing that you were extremely allergic to seafood.

You didn’t say anything even as your family left with the vague promise of celebrating your once in a lifetime accomplishment another time. The funny thing is, you don’t feel completely disappointed. You’re mostly irritated because you turned down celebrating with your friends because you thought your family finally wouldn’t act shitty for one night.

It’s a shame that you’re staying in because you look really good. Your brother-in-law bought you the dress you’re wearing as an early graduation gift. You could still picture Taehyung’s cute boxy smile when you told him how much you loved it. Thinking back, maybe seeing you in the dress is what set your sister off when you walked down the stairs.

Pushing that out of your mind, you walked up the stairs to your room. As you ponder about what to do with the rest of your night, you wonder if Taehyung is still asleep. In probably the only selfless act your sister ever committed, she suggested her husband stay home to sleep off his jet lag.

You furrow your eyebrows when you see you door is ajar. As you get closer, you hear soft sighs and what almost sounds like moans.

“Fuck.” A deep voice you recognize instantly groans deeply.

You’re being extremely quiet, and a second later you hear a soft schlick schlick schlick sound that grows louder and quicker as time passes. Through the small opening, you can see part of your brother-in-law. Even though you can’t fully see him, you can tell he’s completely naked. Your eyes practically pop out of your head when you realize what’s going on. Taehyung is actually jerking off in your room, on your bed.

Your eyes get bigger as the wet sounds get more lewd. It’s like your feet are rooted to the ground, and all you can do is stand there and listen to him like some sick pervert. The longer you stand at your door, the more turned on you feel. Your panties are starting to get slick with your arousal, and you’re about to leave to put a stop to your sick behavior until you hear a moan of your name.

It’s like you’re not in control of your own actions as you go to push the door open. In spite of knowing what was going on, you’re still not prepared to see Taehyung sitting on the edge of your bed with a pair of panties wrapped around his cock.

Your panties.

“It’s rude to stare, sweetheart.” Taehyung’s voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. His lustful tone has you pulling your eyes away from his dripping cock and up to his smirking face.

What you should’ve said is that he’s the rude one for his actions, but you’re too flustered and turned on to say anything reasonable.

“Tae!” You squeak out, eyes dropping back to his thick dick. “Th-Those are mine.”

“I know.” He says brazenly. “Your sister doesn’t wear cute little panties like this. You don’t mind that I borrowed them, right?”

Your mouth is watering. His cock is so long and thick—it’s undoubtedly the biggest you’ve seen in person. You can’t stop staring at it, and you can’t really think past the arousal you feel. The feeling is sickening, especially because you know it’s wrong that all you can think about is how badly you want you put your mouth on his pretty cock.

“It’s wrong.” You finally manage to say. “You’re married to my sister.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem fazed by the reminder. He raises an eyebrow at you as he stands from your bed. Your panties are tossed by his discarded clothes, and you have a sick inkling that you won’t be getting them back. Before you can say anything, he steps forward and grabs your arm. He effortlessly pulls you closer until you’re flush against his chest. You swallow nervously when you feel his twitching cock rub against you.

“Your sister has to learn to share sometime.” His smirk is wolfish as his big hands settle on your waist. “God, baby. You don’t know how long I’ve been holding back. Been jerking off to the graduation photo your mom sent into the group chat since I woke up.”

“You’re sick.” You try to sound disgusted, but Taehyung’s eyes only shine brighter at your words.

God, you’re cute. Especially because he knows how much you like it. Your desire is reflected in the way you gasp filthily when he pinches your nipples through the dress you have on.

“I am.” He agrees through a hum, not stopping his rough movements. “But you like it. I can tell how turned on you are that I stole your panties and used them to jerk off.”

You let out a breathy moan as you feel a rush of arousal so heady it makes you dizzy. His hands trail down your body until he’s playing with the hem of your short dress.

“I bet your little pussy is soaked.” His voice is seductive as he places his lips near your ear.

You can’t say anything because it’s true. You’re so wet that you wouldn’t be surprised if your arousal started to drip down your thighs. Lust and arousal are dictating your actions now, and it’s why you don’t stop Taehyung when he uses one hand to push up your dress and slips the other into your panties.

“Oh, honey.” He purrs in pure delight. “You’re so fucking wet—just like I thought. Want me to play with your pussy, hm?”

You don’t say anything, but your sister’s husband isn’t having any of it.

“Say it. Tell me how much you want me to play with your juicy pussy.”

Whining lowly, you buck your hips forward. “I want you to play with my pussy, Tae. Please.”

Of course you comply to his wishes easily. You’re always so good for him. Taehyung licks his lips hungrily. He was going to wreck you in every way possible.

“Such a good girl.” He kisses your jaw fondly.

You let out a quiet gasp when his fingers swipe over your swollen clit. They delicately trace your pussy lips down to your leaking hole. He repeats the motions until you’re writhing against him. His long fingers gently rub circles on your sensitive lips, gathering your wetness and smearing it all over your aching clit. You’re moaning loudly by now, not caring that you’re doing something so despicable.

Taehyung smirks and pulls away from you, loving how you whine in protest. “Want more sweetheart?”

You nod almost petulantly.

“Tell your brother-in-law what you want. You know I’ll give it to you if you ask nicely.”

Any morality you have flies out the window at that moment. “Want to taste your cock.”

Taehyung’s eyes become impossibly dark at your words. His cock twitches as he watches you slowly peel your dress off. He groans at the sight of your naked body, cockhead leaking with more precum. God, he’s never wanted anything so badly in his life. (Not that) deep down, he knows that once he has you he won’t ever let you go. And he definitely won’t let anyone else have you.

You kneel in front of him so you’re face to face with his cock. It’s so hard that it almost looks painful. You lick your lips as you greedily take in the arousing sight.

“Fuck.” Taehyung groans when he sees you pressing your thighs together. “I’m going to blow my load if you keep looking at it like that.”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so fucking big.” You moan out the last word as you try to put pressure on your throbbing pussy.

More precum leaks out of his tip and slowly drips down his aching length. Taehyung groans lowly, the sound reverberating in his throat as his pupils dilate. He knew having you for real was better than any fantasy he could dream up.

“Yeah? Then show me how much like this big cock, sweetheart.”

You lean forward and lick up all the precum leaking down his dick, moaning against the soft skin. Sucking dick has always turned you on, but the fact that it’s Taehyung’s cock you have your mouth on is even more arousing. You lick your way back up and softly suckle on the head, slurping up his precum like candy. Your brother-in-law pulls out to trace your lips with his drippy tip, smearing precum across your mouth to claim you as his. Your arousal is dripping on the floor as you press a quick kiss on his dick. With an excited moan, you start to lap on it until he’s fucking his cock back into your mouth

“Fuck, baby—that’s it.” Taehyung moans, gently thrusting his cock forward. “Suck that cock like I know you can.”

You quickly bob your head down with a soft mewl. Taehyung’s eyes roll back when he feels your tongue tracing the thick vein on his cock as you sink down inch by inch. The soft hum you let out has his cock twitching in your mouth, coating your tongue with more of his precum.

“Feels so damn good.” Taehyung groans as he goes to caress your head.

More juices drip out of you as you hungrily keep sucking his cock. Your tongue circles his head before dipping into the slit to taste more of his precum. The cute little moans and mewls you let out around his dick only drive your brother-in-law more crazy.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, honey.” His eyes are dark as he rocks his hips into your mouth, pushing himself deeper into your throat until you start to gag. “Fuck. I can tell you like sucking me off. Didn’t expect you to be such a dirty little slut.”

You whine cutely, sucking him deeper into your mouth. Taehyung groans when you lick his leaking cockhead before sloppily bobbing your head further down his dick. Never in his life has he had his dick sucked this good, and he can’t help but think you deserve a reward for it.

“Get ready, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum.” Taehyung groans lowly. “I want you to swallow my load like a good girl. Can you do that for me?”

He pulls his cock out until just his leaking tip is left resting on your tongue. Taehyung moans your name as thick spurts of cum fill your mouth. You swallow it all up eagerly, loving the taste of him. Your pussy throbs when you see his stomach flex in reaction to you gently leaning forward to suckle the head of his cock. It’s like you want to make sure none of his seed goes to waste.

You give his throbbing tip a quick kiss before pulling back and shakily standing on your feet. Never have you been so turned on, and for the first time in your life you want to be greedy and demand more.

Luckily, your brother-in-law is greedy enough for the both of you.

“Don’t think I'm done with you, honey.” His voice comes out in a growl. “I haven’t even tasted that cute little pussy yet.”

The next thing you know, Taehyung has you splayed out on your bed, face buried in your wet cunt. He’s eating you out with a vigor you haven’t experienced until him, and all you can do is whine and moan loudly.

“I fucking knew you’d taste as sweet as you look.” He moans, tongue lapping at your dripping folds as he maintains eye contact. “Such a sweet little cunt. Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Taehyung’s large hands push down on your thighs to spread you open for his eager mouth. He pulls back to spit on your pussy before fucking his spit into your clenching hole. The moan you let out is so loud that you wonder if your neighbors are able to hear you. At this point you don’t care. You’re too lost in pleasure as Taehyung shoves his face back into your cunt, licking into your slick hole.

“S-Shit, Tae.” You mewl as you grind your pussy into his mouth. “I’m already so close.”

He loves how surprised you sound. Clearly, those college boys hadn’t been doing a good job at keeping you satisfied. Taehyung is going to rectify that. He’s going to make sure you know what true pleasure is by the end of the night.

Taehyung flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, parting your folds and pressing deeper into your dripping hole. You whine loudly, lost in the pleasure your brother-in-law is giving you. He’s slurping up your juices like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and that just turns you on even more.

Your hands pull at his hair as you start to grind against his mouth, toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. Taehyung groans at the burning feeling. He eagerly sucks your swollen bud into his mouth and flicks his tongue against it until you’re writhing against him.

“I’m gonna cum!” You moan loudly.

Taehyung hums in approval. He starts to suckle your clit softly to keep you on the edge longer. It’s so satisfying to hear your pretty moans and feel you trembling against him. Taehyung groans into your pussy as he begins to lap at your hole with nice slow licks.

“Cum on my tongue, honey. Show me how good I make you feel.” Your brother-in-law moans against your sopping folds.

“Taehyung!” You cry out as you cum all over his face, juices coating the lower part of his face.

He moans along with you, suckling your clit back into his mouth until you’re writhing from overstimulation. Taehyung smirks against you as he presses a gentle kiss on your throbbing pussy. He starts trailing wet kisses up your body until he gets to your mouth.

“Such a good girl.” He whispers before pressing his lips on yours and shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You can taste yourself on his lips as you arch up into his body. His dripping cock drags against your throbbing pussy, gently teasing you. The mewls you let out makes him thrusts his hips to rub his cock through the slick leaking from your cunt. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull his cock closer and grind up against it. A quiet fuck falls from your lips when you feel his hot cock glide through your messy folds. Eager hands run through Taehyung’s soft hair. You’re so turned on that you can’t think straight.

“So fucking good for me.” Taehyung coos after he pulls back. The pretty, needy face you have is one he keeps wanting to see. Eagerly, he starts to press sloppy kisses across your neck. “Can’t wait to feel your wet little pussy, baby.”

You whimper and pull him back up into another kiss. This time he licks into your mouth messily, spit dripping from the corners of your lips to slide down your jaw. You feel him grind his cock against you before pulling away. Taehyung takes his cock and slaps it against your dripping pussy, gathering all your slick along the length of it.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” His deep voice growls. “Ready for me to stuff your pretty little cunt?”

“Yes!” You mewl desperately. “Want to feel you split me open, Tae. Fuck—you’re so big.”

You can see his pupils expanding. “Yeah? You want me to stretch this tight little hole out? Show you what it’s like for a real man to fuck you?”

You nod, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth before sinking your teeth into the plush skin. Fuck. You’ve never wanted anyone so badly. Any thoughts of how wrong this all in disappears when you look back into your brother-in-law’s eyes.

“Shit,” he groans before he spits on to your wet pussy.

Taehyung pressed his cock down so his leaking tip slowly eases into your soaked pussy. He slowly rocks his hips to sink inch by inch into your pulsing cunt. Your mewls and whines makes his dick throb almost painfully, and it’s right then that he decides he can’t let you go. Never.

“What a tight little pussy,” Taehyung says as he licks his lips. He pulls back and thrusts forward harder than before. Your tight cunt clenches down on his cock as he bottoms out completely. “Such a treat.”

“God, Tae.” You whine, voice high. “Fuck me.”

Immediately, he starts sliding his cock in and out of your cunt. Taehyung’s rough thrusts make your lovely tits bounce. You moan loudly when his pelvis rubs over your swollen clit. It makes you keen and move your hips to meet his movements. Heavy balls against your ass with every thrust, the loud plap plap plap of skin on skin drives your arousal even higher.

“So fucking good!” You gasp out, whines and moans mixing in together.

You feel almost dizzy as Taehyung keeps spearing you open on his thick cock. He’s hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, and you can feel a familiar coil building in the pit of your stomach. Your brother-in-law groans when your wet cunt clenches around him. He lowers his weight on your body, wanting to get impossibly closer to you. Your skin starts to stick to his from the sweat building between your bodies.

Taehyung starts to place wet kisses on your neck, teeth grazing your skin with gently nips that make your pussy flutter around his cock. You feel so good that you can’t contain the wanton noises from leaving your mouth. Taehyung’s fat cock grinds into the spongy spot inside your cunt as he savagely ruts into your body. His pelvis grazes your sensitive clot, sending shocks up pleasure up your spine. Slick gushes from your pussy as he hammers into your g-spot, making you squeeze him tighter and tighter.

“God. You’re so much tighter than your sister,” he groans into your ear. “Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this cute little pussy.”

His words do the trick and make you cum hard on his cock. You cry out loudly, chanting his name repeatedly as your pussy clamps down on his dick. Taehyung grins deviously. His hand slips down your body to rub and tease your clit. This prolongs your orgasm until it feels like you’re cumming a second time.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so fucking hot,” Taehyung groans as you coat his dick with your cream.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as he fucks you harder. He’s so addicted to your pussy that he can’t completely pull his cock out of you. Your brother-in-law desperately ruts into your slick walls, chasing his own orgasm. After a few more mind blowing thrusts, he’s pressing his cock deep into your cunt until thick cum is spilling from the bulbous head, stuffing you full.

“Got the tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

You mewl in content as Taehyung’s hips press against yours while he continues to fuck his cum into you.

Your slick walls milk his cock for all its worth. You can feel it pulsing inside you as he pants against your skin. Taehyung swivels his hips into you, smirking when you cry out for him. He pulls his cock halfway out of your cunt before sinking it back inside a second later. Your creamy arousal and his cum mix together and form a ring around the base of his dick.

“Feels so good, Tae.”

You’re so fucked out, but he can tell you want more. Being so used to only getting the bare minimum, he knows you won’t dare to ask for more. Luckily, he’s greedy enough for the both of you.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m not done using your cute little pussy. Gonna keep you on my cock all night long.”

Time seems unreal from then on. You’re lost in the haze of pleasure, and you can’t be sure how many times you’ve cum all over Taehyung’s big cock. You know he’s came in you two more times after his first orgasm. Somehow, his cock is still so stiff and hard.

“Think you can take one more for me, baby?” Taehyung coos as he lifts your limp legs on his forearms.

You mewl weakly, hips lifting slightly. He smirks down at you, loving how you can’t get enough of him. Taehyung nudges his drooling tip against your entrance, dragging the leaking head to smear the cum from the last cream pie he gave you all over your messy cunt. The actions make you whine and shift against him, silently begging him to spear you open all over again.

“One last load for your greedy little pussy,” his smile seems more innocent than it actually is. “Be good for me, honey.”

With that, he sinks his dirty cock into your sore pussy. Taehyung leans forward to press your sweaty bodies together. Your eyes roll back of your head as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, thighs shaking in his arms.

“The best pussy I’ve had wrapped around my dick, and to think it belongs to my sweet sister-in-law.”

Your pussy spasms and clenches down on his thick cock as you cry out. Brain melting pleasure seeps down your spine as he fucks into your cunt roughly. All you can do is cry out as he keeps hammering his cock into your sensitive hole.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m not gonna be able to give up this sweet little pussy. It’s so tight and wet. Makes me want it all the time.”

The way he whispers those filthy words make another orgasm slam into your body. You cry out his name as your pussy pulses and leaks with your arousal, sucking his cock deeper into your hole.

“That’s it, honey. Milk this cock like it’s yours,” he groans into your skin, thrusting into your pussy until you’re crying out from overstimulation.

Taehyung smashes his lips on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He bites down on your bottom lip before pulling away from you.

“That’s it, baby. Take all of my cum like a good girl.”

As always, you do as you’re told. Your pussy clamps down on once again, milking his thick cock as he buries it inside your messy walls. He moans against your skin as he slowly grinds into you, spilling thick ropes of cum inside you. The sticky heat makes your clit throb with arousal even as you’re on the verge of being overcome with exhaustion.

Taehyung places a gentle kiss on your temple before he pulls his softening cock out of your leaking cunt. He sighs contentedly as he slaps his cock down on your messy pussy. The wet splat sound makes you whine out.

“Tae, I’m sore.” You pout at him.

“Sorry, honey.” Taehyung sounds sincere as he fingers him cum back into your pussy. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

Taehyung’s heart lurches as you reach out for him. He scoops you in his arms and helps you to the bathroom, whispering sweet praises when he helps you step under the warm water.

At this point, he can care less that this will potentially drive his wife over the edge when she finds out. He was being completely serious when he said he’s not going to give you up. Taehyung can’t care about the potential consequences. He’s selfish, even more so than his wife. She knew this and still wanted to unify herself to him. That’s why he can’t be entirely blamed. After all, everything that is his wife’s also belongs to him. And that includes you.

[f1byjessie]

SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE ━━ FA14.

being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.

( fernando alonso x wife!reader )

━━ one shot.

When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.

“My angioletto,” she called you, her little angel, “it doesn’t have to look pretty when it’s done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.”

She’d lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. “It may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? It’s even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.”

She’d wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.

“One day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it won’t matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.” She’d pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiled— “Until that someone gets here, I will stand in.”

You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.

She’d driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, she’d slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to be— where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.

She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day she’d buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.

When you were twenty— a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didn’t seem to have any room for you— you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.

It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.

You’re nearly thirty now, and you still don’t regret buying the bakery. It’s your home away from home now— your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that you’ve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.

But that doesn’t mean that every day is easy.

Today is one of those hard days. Valentine’s Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness it’s also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmother’s passing. Even though you’ve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacy— her dream, which you now live for her— is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when you’d just lost her.

The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakery’s speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when she’d bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.

You’d give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Beatrice asks. She’s a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadn’t known much Italian back then, and you were the first person she’d met who could speak English, so she’d asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldn’t get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that she’d be staying for the foreseeable future.

You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesn’t come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. “Just being a bit nostalgic today,” you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.

There are other pictures hung up with her— you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.

“My grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?”

Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. “I don’t think so,” she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. “I knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You don’t really talk about her much.”

You frown, “I guess I don’t.”

“But it’s okay,” Beatrice adds quickly. “I know family can be a touchy topic. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. I’m not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.”

The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when she’s drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.

Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.

“My grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,” you start. “Do you mind if I talk about her?”

Your employee— your friend— smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. “I would love it if you talked about her.

“She used to call me her little angel…”

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yourusername i’ll leave a piece just for you, nonna.

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user that looks delicious!!

user it’s actually my dream to visit y/n’s bakery 😍

↳ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing

↳ user it’s like how irl some foods don’t look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like it’s the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite

user così carino!! ❤️❤️

user how is it possible to make food look heavenly 😳

user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc there’s no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly

↳ user FELT THIS OMG

user what a beautiful way to remember someone 🫶

user she’s gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???

↳ user she’s really the most wag of all wags 😩

↳ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/n’s introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all

↳ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races

↳ user she’s actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadn’t already seen that ring on her finger i would’ve shot my shot no joke 😔😔

↳ user what’s alonso’s secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???

user this is gorgeous

user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope she’s watching down on you and thinking the same thing ❤️

↳ user didn’t think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig 😭

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you 💛

↳ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her 💛

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yourusername arrivederci 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida 💛

user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife

↳ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic 🙃

↳ user “my life” in spanish 😭😭 i literally fucking can’t when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this

↳ user honestly i think it’s just time to accept we’ll be alone forever cuz if he don’t treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i don’t want him

user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, it’s a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy

↳ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL

user when will he return from the war…

↳ user it’s only february the season hasn’t even started yet so why isn’t he with her??

↳ user aston martin’s hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. it’s the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think

↳ user AND OVER VALENTINE’S DAY TOO??? 😭😭😭😭

user mama y papa

user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i don’t think that’s too much to ask for

user she’s posting like he’s dead or smth 💀

↳ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf 🤷‍♀️

user i can’t believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who ain’t even 30 yet

↳ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? 👀👀👀

↳ user have you SEEN y/n?? 👀👀👀

↳ user two baddies bagged each other guys there’s not a lot to try and comprehend

Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. He’s your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about who’s in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that don’t go according to plan and Fernando’s hectic work schedule is one of them.

The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though you’re not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you can— usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while you’re still young and while Fernando is still racing— but even when you’re home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.

You wouldn’t even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot afford— for the sake of the bakery— to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.

You honestly hadn’t given much thought that he’d be missing Valentine’s Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.

It’s by far the first time he’ll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe it’s the stress of the extra workload you’ve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmother’s passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.

Alone.

As you have been for the last few weeks now.

Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. You’ve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.

There’s always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sport’s particular brand of pressure.

And you’ve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.

Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husband’s teammate has been sending you and you alone, you can’t help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.

But that’s the way of things.

You’re about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed that’s too big for one— a bed you haven’t slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the other— when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.

It’s late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isn’t too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He should’ve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.

“Fernando?”

“My love,” he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I am sorry that it’s so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.”

You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise must’ve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.

“Mi vida,” he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your home— the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moon’s glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. “I’m okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.”

“I know, my love,” he coos. “But we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?”

As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and you’d swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.

Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and he’d whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.

“But I always need you,” you’d teased. He’d chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.

You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.

“I meant what I said,” he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.

You hum again, “I know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. It’s a very important job, too.” You curl the blankets around you tighter. “Pay no mind to my musings, okay? It’s just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentine’s Day, and I am short-staffed now.”

“What has happened?”

“What hasn’t?” You joke, heaving a sigh. “Rodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says he’ll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasn’t yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we don’t have. On top of that, Samuel’s wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her mother’s birthday.”

Fernando makes a noise of understanding. “You are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because I’m feeling so much better just hearing your voice,” you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husband’s joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phone’s speaker.

“And I am better just hearing yours,” he says. “But I will leave you to sleep now. It’s too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.”

“Ti amo, marito mio.”

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lance_stroll i’m really only here to take pictures for his wife

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fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only

yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino 🫶

↳ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in 😔

astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martin’s social media admin for their job

↳ lance_stroll thanks but i think i’ll stick to driving fast cars. it’s less stress.

user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭

user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture 🫠

↳ user real

user why is the first one so cute??

user lance is really just fernando and y/n’s kid at this point, he’s the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it

↳ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??

↳ user no????

↳ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him

↳ user i bet lance’s trainer hates that lmao 😂😂

↳ user you all are talking about them like y/n isn’t just a few years older than lance himself is 💀

↳ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone

↳ user guys?? he’s literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least they’re both well into adulthood

user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now

user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS

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fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isn’t thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo 💛.

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yourusername i love you more mio carissimo 💛

↳ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most

user adding “posts me just bc he can” to my list of standards for men

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user “just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife” oh my god fernando alonso the man that you are… 😩😩

user guys he’s the blueprint

↳ user she’s so lucky

user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????

user she’s actually so beautiful omg 😳😳😳

↳ user they’re such a power couple

↳ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz she’s actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at

↳ user is there a reason she doesn’t go to many races?? they don’t have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldn’t be able to attend more 🤔

↳ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she can’t just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when she’s able to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely less frequently than some of the other wags

user gen imagine being fernando alonso’s wife

↳ user i think i would cease to exist

user cuando es mi turno 😭

Valentine’s Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing you’ll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, you’ve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom that’s been following you since last week.

Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. It’s helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.

He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.

He doesn’t call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and you’re disappointed.

But throwing yourself into your work is always something you’ve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.

Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew it’s where you would be.

“You shouldn’t be working today,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. “We are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that I’m not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.”

All she does is sigh.

The morning goes well. There’s a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.

Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.

“Go home,” she orders.

You huff. “Beatrice, I am the boss. Not you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffed—”

“Rodrigo’s coming in to work register in—” she checks the watch on her wrist, “—fifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and I’ll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuel’s wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means he’ll stop hovering over her, and I’m prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.”

You blink at her. There’s a reason she’s the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever you’re reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery you’re always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didn’t even notice.

“Why do you want me to go home so badly?” You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apron’s pockets. “Nothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we weren’t short-handed, I would’ve still been here.”

“You sure about that?” Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.

You don’t pretend to understand what she’s talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.

Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.

Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.

There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bear’s arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.

“Fernando?” You call out to the silent house.

You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.

You peek into the bedroom, “Mia vita?”

Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s had this planned for a while and he’s smug that he’s managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.

He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.

He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.

“Mi vida,” he murmurs. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

“I didn’t know you were coming home,” you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.

He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. “I wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.”

“Ti amo,” you whisper against his skin.

“Te amo,” he whispers into your hair.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lance_stroll, and 97,141 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself 💛

↳ yourusername ti amo mia vita

user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES

↳ user oh my days 🫢

↳ user i’m actually ill that is too cute

user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be

user WAR IS OVER

user i need them to adopt me right tf now it’s not a want it’s a need

user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY

↳ user fernando alonso once again proving why he’s the best husband on the grid

↳ user i’m obsessed with them a totally normal amount

lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, i’m so surprised he didn’t end up ruining the secret somehow

↳ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre

↳ lance_stroll well i’ve seen my “padre” make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i don’t think faith is really gonna cut it. you’re whipped man 🤷‍♂️

↳ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man

↳ lance_stroll you know what? i really do

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206

━━ a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.

[redzie02]

Imagining San as a father

imagine,, i will never let go of girl dad! ateez, warnings: none?/ girldad! san/ fem reader/ mostly scenarios/ the child is referred to as "baby"/ comfort masterlist

It was kind of an unexpected pregnancy but anticipated nonetheless

San was lowkey more excited about it than you were.

Bought matching beanies for the three of you, mostly ones with cat ears.

Gets pouty when you cuddle your pregnancy pillow more than him

"Come here, you never cuddle me anymore," he mutters, trying to pull you closer.

You shrug him away. "No, you’re too warm."

He pouts. "I thought you liked my warmth..."

You never get the chance to complain about being uncomfortable or in pain because San is always absentmindedly massaging your shoulders, back, feet, or honestly any part of your body.

One afternoon, he finds you on the rocking chair, gently patting the baby's back while blinking hard, trying to stay awake. The last few days have been especially exhausting with the newborn.

He steps into the nursery and gingerly took the baby from your arms and into his, lightly rocking her. He whispers, "Did you shower yet, hon?" You shake your head whilst yawning. San nods towards the door. "C'mon, I'll help you. Let me just put her down first."

San helps you up, might even carry you to the bathroom if you're too tired. He starts a bath, setting the water to your favorite temperature, adding your favorite soaps and scents, and helps you undress. He scrubs your body and helps you dry off.

"Ah, I forgot to bring your pajamas."

You shake your head. "One of your shirts is fine." So he brings you the shirt he knows you love. He'll tuck you into bed and leaves a glass of water on the nightstand. It's still a bit too early so he stays up in case he's needed by the baby or you and cleans up the house a bit.

Has a habit of placing his finger under baby's chin and saying 'ah' when feeding her

Wooyoung is, of course, the godfather. Has no sense of what privacy is and will absolutely barge into your home to see the baby(he made several copies of your house keys).

The both of you are nervously getting ready for your first date since before the baby was born. It'll be your first time alone together in what felt like ages.

San is holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder when he asks Wooyoung, "What time are you getting here?"

"Oh, I'm in your living room right now." He hears a distant scream, followed by a smack, loud and clear through the phone speaker. "Hey! You hit me! Your wife hit me!"

San laughs. "Serves you right! That's the third time this week you've snuck in."

Once it's time to go, you almost have to drag him out the door.

He's anxious while on the date, constantly checking his phone while you reassure him that "Everything will be fine, the baby is in good hands. Woo practically acts like he was the one who carried her for nine months anyway."

"This is the longest we've been away from her."

"She's fine, look." You show him the footage from the baby monitor. "She's asleep and Wooyoung is right there like we told him to be."

San eventually gets over this anxiety and calls up Wooyoung for help whenever parenting and life get a bit stressful.

Of course, Woo will gladly babysit while San takes you out to your favorite places to eat(fancy clothing is optional, he just wants the both of you to finally relax and enjoy each other).

♡

San is a patient father. And can also be clingy, of course. Gets random urges to repeatedly kiss baby's face and tell her how much he loves her, even when she's trying to push him away.

Holds baby in his arms whenever possible.

Cries when he has to go back to work and rushes home as soon as the day is over. When he comes home, he gives you a quick kiss before immediately snatching baby out of your arms, giving her kisses all over her face and tiny knuckles. "Did you miss me? Oh, I missed you so much."

Reading aloud to baby while she laid on your chest is one of your favorite things to do. One night, San walks past the door only to stop, drawn by your soft voice. He pokes his head in the room and you notice, nodding at him to come in. He sits on the floor in front of you and massages your feet and legs as he listens to you read.

Teaches baby taekwondo and even convinced you to join, creating a new family activity :(

Will softly sing to her if she starts getting fussy. If it’s a song baby recognizes, she sings along until she eventually falls asleep. And of course, you secretly recorded all of that with the cheesiest smile on your face.

San loves planning family picnics. Wants baby to be around nature as much as possible. Dare I say.. he prohibits the use of too many electronics at home and wants baby to learn a skill and be physically active

San is very big on enforcing good manners and respect. Things like 'please' and 'thank you', proper greetings, helping others, etc.

"Ah-ah, what do we say? Good job, baby."

♡

Gets pouty when baby runs to you or Woo instead of him. But you’ll secretly whisper to baby, “Go hug papa and tell him you love him, go, go.” And she runs off giggling to San who’s hiding his face in his hands, fake sobbing. Her tiny hand pulls at his bigger ones and he'll trap her in his arms. "Ha ha, I got you now." :(((

Baby definitely gets scaredy cat tendencies from her father lol

The three of you were in the living room watching a movie when you heard something hit the ground near the kitchen. The movie was immediately paused. "Did you hear that? What was that?" San hurriedly asks.

"Nothing serious, you probably didn't place the broom back correctly in its holder." You stand up, ready to head to the kitchen when you felt San grab your wrist.

"Wait, what if it's a ghost?"

"A GHOST!?" Your daughter clings to your just as terrified husband, almost on the verge of tears.

You stroke baby's cheek with your thumb. "No baby, your father is just being dramatic...like always. Those muscles of his are useless. Do you wanna come with me to see?"

She nodded, apprehensive, and allowed you to carry her on your hip. Not wanting to be left alone, San trailed closely behind you, keeping his hands on your waist.

As soon as you walked into the kitchen, your foot met with the end of the broomstick. "Ha! See, I told you guys! Can you put the broom back, San?" Right as he bends down to pick up the broom, you run back into the living room, laughing at San's panicked babbling while clutching your daughter.

♡

Baby comes running in the bedroom wearing San's t-shirt(which she found while rummaging through the hamper for whatever reason), the fabric dragging behind her. The sleeves of his shirt covering baby's entire arm except the tippy tips of her fingers. She excitedly runs towards San but trips over the fabric, landing on her belly on the rug.

San gasps, but tries not to react too strongly so that baby doesn't freak out. Helps her up and asks if she's hurt, but she giggles and shakes her head. "Look!"

His heart melts at the sight of his daughter being engulfed in his shirt. She can hardly take a step without stumbling right into him.

When baby is sick, he’ll hold her in his arms for as long as she wants and is constantly rubbing her arms or back and asking if she’s okay or if she needs anything. 

Will have 'fancy' tea parties with his daughter, with you and a few stuffed plushies as guests. Proper attire must be worn (clip on earrings paired with a bow or crown). Allows baby to give him a makeover: painted his nails, spiked his hair with a ton of gel, makeup.

Will ask baby for opinion on his outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Old." She giggles. You're sitting beside her, covering your mouth, trying not to burst out laughing.

His jaw drops. "OLD!?" He looks to you for help, but you avert your eyes. "In what world do I look old?! You know, growing older is a privilege and one should be grateful for-"

"It was just a joke! Why do you have to turn everything into a lesson?"

"I'm never asking for your opinion again. Tsk, 'old'."

He acts like the comment didn't affect him much, but he pouts for the rest of the week.

a/n: next dad fic might be hongjoong..im a lil sleep deprived so i hope this isnt bad lol

[zalayni]

𓂃 💫 ੭ ᝢ SUGAR ༉

spendin' all my nights alone waiting for you to call me. you're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep 💤

❛ pairing: earth42!miles x reader

❛ summary: after a long day there's nothing better than having your lover help you as you do your night time routine, no matter how girly it might be.

❛ warnings: the lower caps are intended. reader uses she/her pronouns.

❛ author's note: this is supposed to be longer but I lost everything and had to restart it from scratch. also this isn't proofread what so ever. I live like a warrior i'll die like a warrior 🫡🫡(I'm too lazy to read alat)

if anybody told Miles from when he was new to being prowler that he would be sitting in his room, wiping a girls makeup off specifically HIS girls makeup off he'd just tell them. “man you're buggin.”

yet here he was.

after a long day of standing around with music blasting in your ear while people laughed in the background you were finally back alone with Miles. it was silent but at the same time it was comforting. Miles was there kneeling infront of you, wiping your makeup off as you sat on the vanity chair he had bought and installed in his room along with the hello kitty mirror he saw people hyping up on tiktok.

don't get it mixed up though Miles would never use that vanity, he bought it for you. he filled up the drawers with makeup and products he'd see you use just for you. he did all of this because all he wished was for you to feel at home with him.

he went through the hard work of building and putting up the parts by himself as he was too embarrassed to ask uncle aaron or his mom for help. what would uncle aaron say if miles would randomly come in his home saying “help me build this pretty pink and white vanity I just bought.”

you always crashed at his place or miles would crash at yours. either way he always insisted on helping you with your nightly routine.

"all done Mami, now go wash up. I'll get your pajamas from the laundry." Miles attempted to get up before getting stopped by your hands pulling him down to peck his cheek. you pulled away while muttering a thank you.

Miles smirked at you while getting up.

"yeah, no problem. anything for my girl."

miles was the sweetest person to ever come into your life. who knew Brooklyn's number one killer would be such a lover boy? maybe it's because of the fact that he's always been a mamas boy growing up.

you finished up your shower, wrapping the towel around your body before a knock echoed through the bathroom. "ma, can I come in? I've got your pajamas." you quickly opened the door to see Miles standing there with your pink pajama set in his hands.

he stared at your figure watching as water droplets still slowly rolled down your body.

"Morales you're staring at me." you playfully said while side eyeing before taking the clothes out of his hands. Miles huffed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer silencing your giggles with a kiss.

"whatever ma you're trippin' I wasn't even staring you're just reading into it too much. even if I was can you blame me? I bagged such a pretty girlfriend."

Miles eyed you down once again before leaning close to your ear. "maybe even future wife."

ugh what a tease. yet everytime he did this you felt butterflies in your stomach.

he chuckled before exiting the bathroom leaving you there staring at his back, stunned. you shook it off with a laugh and got dressed so you could be back in his arms.

you brushed your teeth and did your skincare that Miles would always restock on. you felt bad as they were pricey but he would always insist on buying them for you.

you hanged the towel on the rack to dry and exited the bathroom, practically speed walking to Miles room. once you opened the door you were met with Miles laying comfortably on his bed with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on. He had his arms up with his phone in his hands scrolling on whatever socials he was checking up on.

you closed his bedroom door before crawling in between his arms, laying your head on his chest. Miles sighed and put down his phone, wrapping his arms around you. He pecked the top of your head making you look up at him. "long day?" you asked him making miles suck his teeth.

"tch. ma you were there with me, yes the function was fun but of course my mom had to make us stay till past midnight talking about some ‘hold on we'll leave after I'm done talking.’" you laughed at him mimicking his mom's voice whole repeating what she would keep saying during the function.

mrs morales loved you so she told Miles to invite you to their family's function as his date which you gladly said yes to.

the day was long and your feet might've ached from all the standing as every seat was taken up, your stomach might've hurt from all the aunties insisting on you to eat more but at the end of day you got to see Miles smile, and it wasn't because of you. for some that was the rarest sight to witness.

after the death of his dad Miles drifted away from everyone but here he was laughing and bickering with his favourite cousins. he was actually playing his favorite sport, basketball for once and laughing whenever he'd steal the ball from his cousins.

you witnessed Miles grow as a person and slowly pick up broken pieces. it was truly heart warming.

here you laid in the dead of night, ear on Miles chest hearing his soft heartbeat with your eyes closed. you were calm yet your head was racing with thoughts. you decided to break the silence after awhile of listening to his breathing pattern and heartbeats. "hey Miles, I'm not sure if you're asleep but I have a question."

it was silent for awhile making you think Miles fell asleep before you could ask it but then he answered. "go ahead Mami, I'm listening."

"would you give the world to me?" you looked up at him only to see his half lidded eyes staring down at you. "mhmm no."

your heart dropped at his answer, lips close to quivering, but the hard beating of your heart slamming against your chest was calmed down with what you heard him say afterwards.

"hermosa, why would I do that when there's other planets too?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

please do not steal, copy, translate or put my work on any other apps. thank you for reading 🫶

artwork in header made by koscribbls on instagram

[angelplummie]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS! 3

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2 part 3

no smut in this one, but homoeroticism and swearing. enjoy yall!

“why are we here?”

“i told you why,” tashi took off her many bracelets into a hotel-issued jewellery box. the room was a dusky cream all over, and smelt of sandal wood. the various lamps cast sloping shells of yellowlight.

art watched, naked and tangled within the duvet.

“you told me we were seeing a physiotherapist. now we’ve come all the way here and he just cancels?”

“i can’t control these things art. he’s very popular, something just came up. think of this as a holiday. we’ll do something relaxing, fun, tomorrow. you crushed in atlanta, you deserve a rest.”

“i didn’t crush. i came second.”

tashi duncan just breathed deeply, not a sigh but something like it. an acknowledgement.

“i know. you work too hard.”

art sniffed and rested his head on the heel of his palm.

“can you just tell me why we’re here? please?”

wrists lighter, she sighed. wrapped in a silk negligé, she began removing her necklace, away from him so that they would not make eye contact but he could still watch her face. she had a defeated look. caught. but still scolding like a mothers, like she was slightly irritated he even asked.

“she’s competing in the open this year. she might win.”

“who is she?”

he asked, but he knew. you were the she. you were her, hissed in arguments, brushed under rugs. their point of contention. they didn’t speak of you, couldn’t. not after the way they got together, not after that final match and the injury.

a certain wildness came across her face whenever you came up, even peripherally, in conversation. like he had reopened a wound, pressed on a bruise that was ripening. she wore that look now, the injured bear look.

“her. if she wins this she’ll have won every major tennis competition in the us. in under 5 years. then what? fucking wimbledon? no. not on my fucking watch.”

she took off her necklace, which clattered against the vanity. she then began on her rings.

“how do you know she’ll win it?”

“i don’t know she’ll win it. but it’s really looking like she will. and she can’t.”

“why can’t she win it?” art soothed, “what would be so bad about that?”

“she can’t win it art.”

he sighed, and watched his wife as she took off their wedding band to sleep. he kept his on, but each to their own. her mouth quivered, and he knew that that was enough of questions for now. she would only get herself worked up if she thought about it more.

“we’ll talk about it in the morning, ok? come here.”

she pressed her long fingers to her temples for a moment, sighed again, and began walking to the bed.

for a moment she perched on the edge, but his pawing hand beckoned her closer. soon enough they were entangled at the legs, and he held her soft head to his chest.

she drew in a nasal breath.

“we have to stop her. make her lose.”

we. so he was a part of this now. did he think that was appropriate? no. he had left you for her, had harboured secret feelings for her your whole relationship. what he felt for you was real, but tashi was his wife. was always going to be his wife. but now, how could he, in good conscience, try and detract a modicum of happiness from you when he had taken so much in years prior? he couldn’t. he couldn’t even think about you. the thought of you being happy away from him made him so soul crushingly, unreasonably sad that he locked it away in a place no one would ever see or graze by mistake. the thought of you sad made him feel even worse. in truth, he avoided you like the plague. he followed your matches religiously to know where not to be. consumed trashy tabloids so he knew where you brunched, where you bought your sports bras, all so he could know never to be there. because he had that life he always wanted. that life he tossed two of the most important people to him away for. he had to be contented with what he had, or else he would die. and he was more than contented. he was everything he wanted. he had a wife he loved, a sky rocketing career, a future. a purpose. but there were aches of the heart, sympathies a man couldn’t shake, even if he had to.

“we have to?”

her grip around his torso tightened, and she raised her head to look at him.

“we have to.”

“what could we even do?”

“fuck with her head. get in there and throw her off. and if worse comes to worse break her knee like she broke mine.”

“don’t joke.”

“i’m not kidding art. she’s not winning. and you’re helping me.”

“tashi-“

“you’re helping me aren’t you?”

and she fixed him with the look. the look she gave when she wanted you to remember that her acl tore and that she will be able to do the thing she loved most in the world, and somehow it’s all your fault. only you can fix it. only you can take the defiance from her eyes and the downturn of her lips, and you can only do that if you go as she says. art had no choice, no choice at all.

“what do you need?”

•••

in, coincidently, the same hotel a few floors up, you shaved your pubic hair. your coach advised you against shaving close to the tournament. he recommended it for your legs, it meant you were more aerodynamic, but pubic hair made no difference. between razor burn and chaffing, it was an unnecessary distraction. but, he also didn’t sanction sweaty, time consuming, exhausting sex with a trifling man slut of an ex boyfriend that dumped you once and was ready to dump you again, so today was the day for rule breaking.

he chewed you out pretty nice when you got back to your hotel room. you insisted on showering even though your physio stayed late specifically for you, and now instead of hurrying out and apologising and being stretched into a peppy, sexy, marketable, rubber-band-legged tennis cunt, you were shaving yourself. because winning didn’t matter unless you were ready for her.

why did being shaven mean being ready? you didn’t know. but patrick’s joy at your bush had sickened you in grim retrospect, and you wanted to spite him. you would always be ready from now on. if tashi duncan was going to try and fuck you over, the least you could do was prepare to be fucked.

you were dry as can be. you hosed yourself down pretty ruthlessly to clear yourself out. evict any traces of that man from your body, scrub until you reached a layer of skin he hadn’t touched. you had one tired foot on the edge of the sink, and angled yourself so you could see everything. you would be so smooth that you could see a reflection when you were finished.

patrick had caught you off guard, had used you, but you didn’t doubt that he told you the truth about one thing. tashi was coming. she was probably already here. that would be an evil thing to makeup, and despite your outburst you didn’t truly believe he was evil. you thought he was weak, slimy and pathetic, but he wasn’t great enough to be evil. didn’t have the forethought.

what would you do when you saw her? it was early days in the tournament, you could afford to be a little distracted while you picked off the weaker ones. but you couldn’t still be this distracted in 2 days time. maybe time would take care of it. maybe you would have to take it into your own hands.

regardless of what happened, the hair had to go. you had shown patrick a soft underbelly, a vulnerability. one that neither tashi duncan or art donaldson would ever experience again. you could never give her the satisfaction.

if she brought art with her, that would give you something to think about. he, like patrick, was a stolen thing. he was the physical manifestation of all she took from you, in it’s fullest form. he was tennis. he was something you had never beaten. tashi duncan pilfered and pillaged, but worse of all she never lost to you. you never looked her in her eyes and beat her, at anything. love, sex, the game, she had never lost. worse, she had lost her ability to lose. a fate worse than death, but a fate that saved her from the shame she so rightfully deserved. while you lived on, you could defile yourself further, could fall out of grace and could become as common as dirt. she however was immortalised as a god, an angel too good, too talented for this world. she was given implicit dignity. you can’t beat her if she can’t play. the conniving bitch.

semenless, hairless and distantly heartbroken, you set the razor down on the side of the bathtub. you left to dress and be scolded by your coach, who would forgive you tommorow when you won, just like you always did. you won by default.

•••

your manager had forgiven you as soon as you picked up the racket. apparently emotional turbulence served only to help your game, as you achieved your second win of the tournament in record time. not distracted by a certain ex boyfriend at the end of this particular match, when you won you felt fully able to celebrate. sweat drenched and vagina raw you shook your fist at your chest and breathed deep, victorious sighs. your opponent smiled graciously, and disappeared to cry and fade into obscurity, as all would in the face of your brilliance.

the air smelt new. it smelt fresh and new and made for your design. the felt of the tennis balls glowed neon in your periphery and bounced gleefully with your triumph. you guzzled gatorade, answered interviewers questions with emphatically friendly responses, and certainly spawned some rumours that the performance enhancing drugs you were so clearly on had unprecedented side effects, like mood swings.

yesterday your soul was crushed. today you got a new one. let’s see tashi duncan try to fuck that up. let’s see her bring you down.

boys didn’t fucking matter, tennis mattered. and you were great at tennis.

these were all things you believed in earnest, with no trace of sarcasm or cynicism. you believed, right until the second, while walking back to your hotel with your team in front of you, lazily enjoying the world, when a deep, slender, ring laden hand touched your shoulder. you jolted up out of your skin. your head whipped round and there she was. there was satan, smiling like your number was up. stopped in your tracks, you turned your body slowly to face her. as you did more and more of her appeared, and you realised she was really there.

she was so beautiful. such a perfectly set face, everything seemed to match. the attractive broad nose, the full pillowy lips, the eyes, which smouldered on their own, naturally. hair that fell in long stretched curls just as it had all those years ago. she hadn’t changed, at least not visually.

you gave her a once over. that fucking body. god, you wouldn’t know she had stopped playing, you wouldn’t know she could be unable to do anything at all. she was so slender, but so strong, muscle caking her bones in delicate, powerful form. she looked invincible, perfect and impermeable. her loose linen shirt hugged and hung from her frame like a fashion doll, like a mannequin of steel. she was taller than you, by a few inches, and made you feel small, in a way so much more infuriating than patrick. she wasn’t suppose to be bigger than you. she wasn’t a lumbering brute, she was your equal. she was your equal.

from the corner of your eye, you noticed something sparkle on her finger, but you had already looked back to her face.

“tashi,” you said, in a tinny voice that didn’t sound like yours. your throat dried within moments.

“hello stranger,” she said, still grinning.

stranger. funny, that’s exactly what you were. she said it like an inside joke, like you two were the closest of friends. you were strangers.

“hello.”

“congrats on your win.”

“thanks.”

you sniffed, and wet your lips. you weren’t going to break eye contact, she certainly wasn’t going to, so you were locked in silent warfare. what the fuck do you want? you urged every second. wait and see, she replied.

“so,” you say, forming the intentions of a smile on your lips,”what brings you to new york? i hear only a few days ago art was in atlanta.”

“we came up to see a physio guy, he’s supposed to be great. great enough that he cancels last minute.”

“hm. ain’t that just the way!”

you smile, with your eyes too, like you mean it. she smiles too, but she’s awful at being fake. she grimaced more than she smiled, she was always devoid of delicacy, of subtly. everything she was she was overtly. overtly beautiful, overtly talented, and confident. overtly ruthless. why she felt the need to smile if that’s not how she felt was beyond you, but you could play along.

“what hotel are you staying at?”

“the boro. you?”

“us too! why don’t you have a drink with me and art at the bar? it would be good to catch up.”

me and art. you narrow your eyes, deepening your smile to disguise it. she was being so normal, it was strange. what game was she playing? was it something you could win? either way you were in.

“sure! i need to check in with my coach and what not first but ill meet you there at 7, is that ok?”

“7 is great. can’t wait,” her voice was mechanical, it couldn’t be more blatant this was a ploy, and you would fall for it hook line and sinker. she came here to fuck you up? you would destroy her, the second she gave an inch. you already had a massive secret. she fucked patrick. five seconds around art and her life crumbles around her.

you smirked, nodding, and a dark look befell her eyes.

“oh, and just to let you know,” she said, voice lowering. she stepped closer, leaned down to whisper in your ear. the smell of vanilla over powered you, and suddenly you felt very gross, putrid in comparison. but you didn’t have to compare yourself to her anymore.

“i saw patrick zweig in the crowd today. i know you guys had a thing back in college. thought i’d give you a heads up,” her soft whisper tickled your ear. you shivered.

“oh, god,” you said,”thanks for telling me. what the fuck is he doing here?”

“I have no idea.”

“what a freak.”

there were several options of why she told you that, and how she might know.

maybe she really did see him in the crowd. you hadn’t seen him, but you hadn’t seen her either. maybe she didn’t see him, but knew he was coming into town, maybe he told her. maybe she got him to come here and warn you. why? to cut you out of the competition early maybe, start the psychological warfare before her feet even touched new york concrete. it hadn’t worked, and that’s why she had been forced to make a face to face appearance. maybe that was it. maybe it was a grand conspiracy in which all parties were mechanised to get you. you would not be got. no way no how.

your paranoia brought the conversation to a screeching halt as your smile became more and more vacant.

“you look good,” she said after a stretch of silence.

“thank you. so do you. you haven’t changed at all.”

“neither have you.”

“well, i think i’ve changed a bit.”

“nah, you’re the same.”

no. you’re different. but how would she know anyway? you wave goodbye as she saunters off, away to a blonde man that she kisses lightly on the cheek. you don’t take in anything more than that because you turn around immediately, and stalk to where your coach is smoking a cigarette by a coffee truck. fuck that bitch. you were going to gut her alive and use her intestines as a skipping rope. art would not extend his neck to receive a kiss when you were through with them. fucking drink at a fucking bar. who did she think she was?

fuck that bitch, tashi thought. you were right, you had changed. your backhand was perfect. impeccable serve. you were deadly. you were harder now too. you didn’t scowl but there was a coldness about the eyes, a disconnect from face and mind. you were fake as plastic, and just as shiny. you had beefed up, gotten more tight and muscular. maybe tight was the word. tight about the eyes. what were you? you were another creature all together. a beast, an amalgamation of all tashi’s hopes and dreams and all her worst nightmares.

she swayed over to art, knowing you would watch at least for a moment as they smiled at each other and took each other’s forearms tenderly, and she kissed the side of his mouth. his hair had been cut only a few days ago, and she told him to wear that white cotton t-shirt out and about. he said it was too casual for such a high level tennis match, she said she knew that. he looked very fucking good. she looked very fucking good, as she always did. she had set the trap, now it was time to get you in it, trapped, and to bash your head in with a rock.

she and art watched from the corner of their eyes as they kissed and you sauntered away, refusing to look back. your skirt swished with the aggravated sway of your hips. you swung a metal water bottle with the rhythm of your steps, like you were trying to hurt the air. you were pissed off. art could tell, and his stomach churned. this was wrong. it was mean, and they were adults now. married adults, who should be satisfied enough in their lives that they don’t need to plan or scheme. but. here they were. and there he was, embroiled and accomplice to a mean spirited scheme. anything to dry tashis eyes. anything to make up for the fact you were tennis cunt extraordinaire and she was arts coach. a fantastic coach, but a coach all the same. he could hurt you if that’s what tashi needed. he didn’t want to, but he could.

she didn’t know if she could, if it was possible rather, but she wanted to. no, she knew she could. she would. you could flick the skirt adidas paid you to wear and walk with a sexy sway and you could guzzle complementary gatorade but she knew what you were and that you were bellow her. you were her subordinate and if she couldn’t make the world see it she would make it clear to you.

your feet hit tarmac harder than they needed to as you found your coach, who clapped a hand to your back and sung your well deserved praises. breaking news, tennis cunt is good at tennis. alert the media, alert the national guard, alert nasa. this is earth shattering stuff. fuck everyone, but fuck tashi in particular. fuck that bitch. and fuck art. fuck him. fuck him.

and yet, only a few hours later you were pulling your hair out trying to put together a cohesive outfit that said i’m not trying to impress you but i’m very impressive. i’m very accomplished and polished and if i was you and i had thrown me away i would kill myself for the shame and regret. tashi duncan is nothing.

but it was hard to find an outfit so articulate. not too dressy, but not overly casual as to downplay yourself, to suggest you think dressing nicely is above what you deserve. a dress. a black dress said sex but it was also classic, simple. a black dress meant nothing, and therefore meant everything. your body itself provided the glamour, your form a kind of jewellery. yeah. that was it. eat your heart out, donaldson.

you sit at the bar, perched with your smooth legs crossed over each other. you sipped a coke, that might’ve been a rum and coke on a different night, but you needed to keep your wits about you. you remember getting drunk one night with art, swaying around his house. his parents were away and he invited you back over spring break. his house was so big. you remember kissing him, so wasted. he wasn’t as drunk as you. he held your waist, and smiled and said,”let’s get you into bed.”

“but art. you’re so pretty.”

“and you’re so drunk. i’ll still be pretty tomorrow.”

art didn’t do drunk. i don’t know. something to keep in mind.

they walked in, looked around and smiled when they saw you. neither of them had changed despite having hours. fucking cunts.

“i see you didn’t wait for us,” tashi smiles.

“oh, sorry.”

they sit, tashi next to you, art in tow. what was arts role in all this? you knew why you wanted him here, to destroy his marriage of course. but why did tashi want him here? what purpose did he serve for her? he just sort of looked around. you watch him as they settle. art. oh art. you felt something in your chest, and hated it. art. he was just that guy, you know. the guy that you can say you hate, but you just can’t. you want to so badly, but being in his presence for even a few seconds has you crumbling. the shape of his nose, the bob of his adam’s apple, the golden dusting of hair on his arm that glints in the boozy light of the bar. he was so… guy. so man. so beautiful. he beats his blonde eyelashes and turns to look at you, smiling with only one corner of his mouth. you smile back, unconsciously genuine. fuck him. what a prick.

you look back to tashi, who watches you bemusedly. half smirking half frowning. her deep eyes glow like ambers. she tossed a strand of hair from her face, orders her and art two sparkling waters as she eyed your coke.

“so,” you say, to divert your train of thoughts more than anything,”how’s life been?”

“let’s drop the pleasantries shall we?”

the smile that had spooked you all day dropped, lips instead set in a line

“we aren’t actually here to catch up.”

“oh. ok.”

that was brief. you understood why she was so quick to give up the falsehoods though, tashi duncan didn’t deal in lies. she dealt in hard cold truth.

“i’m here for one thing. i want you to play art.”

you frown with one eyebrow, and your upper lip curls into a look of disgust.

“what?”

you glance at art, who doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. he looks mournful almost. what a freak. tashi’s face is sullen, serious as the plague.

“you heard me. i want you and art to play each other. art wants to too.”

art didn’t look at you. nodded though.

“and i wanna do it tonight.”

you spluttered a laugh, hands gripping the bar.

“tonight?”

this bitch had lost her mind. you have a tournament, an important one at that, and for her to assert that you should jeopardise that, overexert yourself for the sake of what? assuaging a personal grudge? making her feel better because a significantly larger man beat a woman at a game that tashi hadn’t played in five entire years? what crack was she smoking that made that an acceptable ask? did her arrogance know no bounds?

“i have a match tomorrow.”

“yeah, no fucking shit. that’s why there’s stakes.”

stakes. what the fuck. you almost wanted to laugh. but this bitch was giving you a proposal, a fucking pitch. for what? what could she possibly have to offer you other than sucking on a shot gun and pissing off forever?

“do you have any fucking idea how ridiculous this is? after everything you did to me, you think you have any right to saunter up to me and ask me to waste my time and my energy, the night before a fucking match? you and your fucking husband can fuck off.”

“after everything i did to you? what the hell did i do to you? you broke my fucking knee.”

your confused look fell into seething blankness.

“you didn’t break your knee you tore your ACL. and you broke it yourself.”

“that’s fine, that’s fine. you tell yourself that, but know the only reason you have this fucking career is because i wasn’t there to beat you down and put you in your place.”

“jesus fucking christ, i would’ve beaten you that match and you know it.”

“i don’t know a goddamn thing-“

“and where do you get off pretending like you never did shit to me? you took everything from me tashi. you took everything and now you travel across the country and stumble up to me to make yourself feel better because i can play and you can’t. you want me to try and beat a fucking man? fine. i’m game. i’m in, let’s do it. i would hate to waste your precious time. let’s hear the fucking stakes.”

the gloves were off. both of your backs had straightened like hackles on a cat and your nostrils flared and your chests rose and fell and neither of you broke eye contact for even one second. you hadn’t realised but you had gotten closer, so close that your minty fresh breath fanned tashi’s upper lip, and pieces of tashi’s hair tickled your cheekbone. this was fucking intoxicating. being this close to the woman you had hated for so long, getting the confirmation that she hates you just as passionately, knowing you matter enough to her that she needs to destroy you, it all fills you with the most exhilarating feeling. you want more. her deep eyes glowed with fury. fuck.

art sits hunched over the bar, removed. he drank his drink, slowly facing away. he almost looks bored, or he would if his eyes didn’t flit about all the time. no, art was anxious. he disapproved of whatever tashi planned, but he loved her too much to tell her no. the thought stings you, spitting in the face of your satisfaction. art. he would always make you hurt no matter what.

“here’s the stakes. you lose, i leave knowing that i was always better than you, and you give me $4000, for my troubles. you win, you get to fuck art in front of me.”

he didn’t flinch. he knew. you’re pulled back by an otherworldly force, stone cold sober. your neck twists back and forth, scanning the bar for anyone to help you, save you, give you a moment to chew on whatever that was. no one was gonna help you. even art, who sat and drank his sparkling water, wouldn’t meet your eye.

“what?”

she didn’t reply, just leant back, arms crossed, satisfied. was she honestly, seriously, really, actually whoring out her husband so that you, a girl she barely knew from college, would play him at tennis so she could prove a point? was she that confident he would beat you? or was she a pervert as well as a cunt?

“are you that confident you’ll win? or do you think i’m that desperate? believe it or not, i’ve actually moved on from a man i saw briefly 5 entire years ago.”

a tiny white lie never hurt anyone.

tashi widened her eyes. a silent challenge.

“are you sure? are you sure it wouldn’t feel good to fuck my husband right in front of me? take something from me? hurt me? give me a taste of my own fucking medicine? if i’m such a bitch, if i took everything from you, take something back. beat me at tennis and fuck my husband.”

this bitch was fucking crazy. and yes, it would feel fucking incredible. but you would also have to touch art again. which would dredge up emotions you didn’t know if you could stomach. eugh. no. couldn’t. wouldn’t. won’t.

“i’ll play you. no stakes.”

“no,” art looked at you in the eyes for the first time since that day, that match that ended you two forever. his voice was cold and hoarse. your eyebrow raises involuntarily. look everyone, the puppet can speak on its own!

“agree to the stakes or don’t bother.”

you laugh airily, you search arts face for reprehension. there’s just nothing. you were wrong about him, he didn’t disapprove that strongly. where did he get off in this? did he like being used as a bargaining chip in his evil wife’s evil schemes? was he completely eroded from who he used to be? did you ever even know him? he tongued the inside of his cheek. his mouth curved at the edge. he smiled slightly like he knew you, like this was a game you were all in on. like any of this is funny.

“no. i’ll play you, and i’ll even cough up the money if i lost. but i’m not fucking anyone. end of story.”

tashi leans forward. her eyes twinkle yellow in the soft glow of the bar. her mouth opens with unspoken hunger.

“then lose.”

[biteofcherry]

Does mafia!Steve's Reader ever get jealous? Maybe there's a businesswoman or mafia related one that Steve has to have meetings with and reader gets jealous?

Nesting

Not an inch away

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings for the part below: some angst; soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers; possessive behavior; arranged/forced relationship;

~ * ~

You shouldn't care. You really shouldn't, you tell yourself as you watch Steve open the restaurant door for that other woman to enter.

A woman that looks stunning in a body-clinging white dress and killer heels, not a single thing out of place in her confident persona.

She tilts her head and smiles at Steve, who reciprocates with one of his most charming smiles - one that gets you weak in the knees when he flashes it at you.

He told you he'd be home late because he has boring business meetings to attend to, so you talked your bodyguards slash enablers - Natasha and Yelena - to go to the movies and for some greasy food afterwards.

It's pure coincidence that the spot you picked for your snacking was opposite of a fancy restaurant to which Steve took this woman.

You know plenty of women have successful businesses, but you don't think a mob boss of Steve's caliber would actually do any business with one of them. In a romantic restaurant at that.

Natasha's face is perfectly impassive at the sight, but Yelena cringes as if she feels bad for you for seeing this.

You tell yourself that it shouldn't matter. This whole arrangement, one practically forced upon you after Steve found out about your pregnancy, is one you wanted out of at first, right?

The elegant, shiny ring on your finger, which you grew to love and often looked at with a fond smile, now reminded you of the cage Steve trapped you in. Gold, pretty cage.

With how intense and dotting Steve was, you actually believed the cage could become a warm house, with a faithful, loving husband.

Seemed you were going to become a cliche, instead. A wife to produce heirs to a mafia king, while he fucked around with whomever he desired.

Perhaps you should walk into the restaurant, make a scene, throw a drink in Steve's face. Throw it at that woman's white dress.

But you only clench your hands on the paper bag with takeout you bought to eat at home (your pregnancy is turning you into a bottomless pit). You straighten your back and keep your head up high as you march to the car and get inside, Natasha and Yelena slipping inside soundlessly.

Yelena tries to say something, explain Steve's actions, but you tell her you're not interested.

"I don't care." You announce as coldly as you can, quite proud that your voice doesn't crack with how hurt you feel inside.

At home you devour your food. And some chocolate muffins that you baked in the morning. Each bite as delicious as heavy, your stomach revolting with the bitter jealousy and anger at the thought of what Steve was up to.

Are they having a romantic dinner and smiling at each other across the table? Is he sliding his hand up her thigh and under her dress? Does he make her come silently in front of all the patrons?

Will he take her to a hotel room, or one of his apartments that he owns all around the city, and fuck her into a screaming mess?

Will he fuck her better than he did you last night... yanking a fistful of your hair as he wrecked you into a dripping mess and praised you, A good little wife, taking all of me so well.

Ripping apart another muffin, you decide on your next step. You know running away wouldn't work. For one, you have two guards, who may be friendly, but still were loyal to Steve and what he said triumphed over whatever you wanted.

Secondly, even if you managed to slip out, Steve would find you. And he'd drag you back into the cage and the life he builds with you beside him.

You can't leave the penthouse, but you can make yourself a safe space in one of the free guest rooms.

Since Steve's dipping his dick in other woman's cunt, he doesn't need you sleeping beside him.

You definitely don't want to touch him when he reeks of other woman's perfume. You don't even want to see him.

So after you drag most of your stuff from the main bedroom and hastily put it in the closet in your new room, you close the door. Just in time, because less than ten minutes later the echo of firm footsteps resounds.

You flip a book open, trying to focus on the printed words and not on the way your heart hammers in your chest as you hear Steve's footsteps aiming for the main bedroom.

A vicious part of you hopes that he is a shocked, seeing that you're not there.

Not in the huge bed, naked under soft covers, waiting for your husband lord and master to throw you a crumb of his attention.

The emotionally heaving part of you shudders in sobs at the image of Steve simply not minding that you're not there.

Maybe he's only a little surprised, but brushes it off and simply takes a shower to wash off the remnants of that woman's arousal and his own sweat. Then he'll get into bed and fall asleep sated, uncaring for your state as long as you obediently stayed inside.

You rub at your eyes, cursing the tears away. You shake your head and try once again to focus on the words you're reading.

But then, after a long stretch of silence, footsteps sound through the space. A creaking of door being open. Then another. Slowly moving towards where you are hidden.

Your heart rate increases, fingers trembling against the paper pages of your book.

You take a breath, willing yourself to remain calm and not show Steve how hurt you are. Play it the way mob bosses wives in movies and tv shows do it - cold and indifferent, an armor around you, so nothing can prickle you.

The door to your claimed room opens and Steve stands there in the doorway in all his stormy glory.

He frowns, seeing you sitting stiffly on the bed.

He walks inside. Sleeves of his suit jacket are pushed up, showing his forearms and twirls of tattoos. He braces his hands on his hips and gives you a look that's a combination of concern and blatant anger.

"Can you explain what's the meaning of all this?" Steve's voice is thick and raspy.

You swallow, but shrug nonchalantly as if his heated gaze isn't bothering you.

"I thought it's better to leave the main bedroom, in case you brought your companion home for the night." You say and return your gaze to the book, fighting the urge to wave him away with a dismissive gesture.

"What?" Steve's frown deepens, actual confusion showing on his face.

"I'm not sure your mistress would like seeing me there. Might ruin the mood." You lift your head and sneer at him. "So I simply made it easier for you."

"I have a mistress now?" Steve raises a single brow, remaining calm while everything inside of you was boiling.

You snap your book closed and slam in onto the bedside table. With a little huff you get off the bed and stomp over to Steve.

"No need to lie." You scoff. "I saw you. With her. Didn't know mob business meant taking beautiful women to expensive restaurants."

You push at his chest in anger, but Steve's strong, muscled body doesn't even sway at your outburst. So you push at him again, unsuccessfully, but at least you get to unleash some of your fury.

"Just do me a favor and don't bring any of your whores home once the baby is here. Stay in one of your apartments, or allow me to move into one."

You can't hold off tears anymore and as some pour out, trickling down your cheeks, you clench your hands into fists and slam them against Steve's chest.

Steve's fingers wrap around your wrists, a tight, almost painful hold that keeps your hands bound to his chest.

"You are not going away from me." He declares, a definite order.

His eyes darken, a flash of lethal danger he rarely directed at you.

"In any form." He ads, obviously meaning you switching bedrooms.

Slowly, Steve's face lightens up. Twinkles appear in his eyes and it makes another wave of annoyance surge through you.

He keeps your wrists locked in one of his hands as he uses the other hand to cup your cheek.

"Any moving you're going to do is along with me." He says and tries to lean his forehead against yours, but you pull your head back.

Steve sighs.

"Which is why," he forces you to maintain eye contact with him, "I had a meeting with Camilla. She's a real estate agent who works for me on renovating a house that I bought for us. For our family."

His words make you speechless. A house? Someplace where you'd feel more free and where your kids could run in glee.

Still, you remain suspicious. You want to assume it's just a crafty lie, you're sure Steve's good at those.

"The Infinite is a rather romantic place to talk construction." You narrow your eyes.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. He lets go of your wrists to wrap both his arms around you, pulling you close to him despite your attempt to squirm away.

"Jealous little bird." He hums and slides one of his hands up to grip the back of your neck.

"In my line of work-" Steve leans closer, his nose tracing the line of your jaw, hot breath tickling your skin making you shiver-

"I manipulate people. Some with threats, some with sugar. And some, like Camilla, with never voiced promise of something they wish for."

Steve's soft snicker puffs across your cheek at your sneer. His lips travel toward your lips. You close your eyes at the intensity of his blue irises and the way your body reacts to the touch of his mouth against yours.

"A restaurant dinner gave her that little spark that will make her work her ass off to grand me all my wishes regarding our house. Even though not once have I even brushed an inch of her body with my fingers."

"It also happens-" the tip of Steve's tongue licks over your bottom lip, his hand starts pulling up the hem of your nightgown- "that I know how to manipulate my wife's body, so she sweats out all that jealousy and anger while she creams on my cock."

Your tiny, needy whimper makes him chuckle in dark victory.

"That what you need, huh?" He grips your buttock and kneads it. "Should I fuck you braindead every day, so that your mind doesn't come up with silly ideas?"

"It wasn't silly." You try to defend your earlier outburst, but it comes out breathy and weak.

"Thinking I could be interested in anyone else when I have your sweet, ripe body at my disposal. Absolutely ridiculous." Steve flashes you a wolfish grin.

He lifts you up suddenly, forcing your arms and legs to wrap around him. His fingers slide from your ass to dip between your thighs as he turns around and walks out of the room.

"You're coming back to our bedroom." He growls a command.

"I'm going to keep you naked and full of cum for the next few days, so it really sinks in that neither of us is stepping away from this marriage. Ever."

[gurugirl]

Not Fair | bfd!harry

best friend's dad!harry x reader | forbidden relationship au

Summary: Harry's been thinking about something that might make your relationship fair but you don’t like what he suggests and it blows up in his face.

Word Count: 6.5k

A/n: You guys asked for this and so here you are. At the beginning of this check-in you'll be getting a glimpse into Harry's married life and his internal thoughts about Y/n and his wife and then it ends with angst.

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, angst, cheating, age gap

bfd!harry masterlist

Harry rolled over onto his back, looking up at the dark ceiling in his bedroom. The only light coming in was from the window. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath.

He felt the bed move as his wife got up to go and clean herself up in their bathroom. He could hear her saying something but he wasn’t listening. His thoughts were on you and what you were doing at that moment at work. His mind wandered to what he’d feel or how he’d react if he knew you had just fucked someone else the way he just did his wife. He wouldn’t like that. And he was sure you wouldn’t like that he’d just nutted in his wife. Even if he told you he was thinking of you as he did it. Imagining that he was stuffed inside of you and you were the one sighing and gasping under him. Because that’s how it was lately. It wasn’t his wife that he was with even if she was the one under him.

The guilt he felt became more self-centered. He was less worried about his wife than he was about how he was going to continue with his little façade. He still loved her. They’d been through a lot together over the years. She gave him a daughter. They’d lost family and friends together. Doctor’s visits with scary diagnoses. Fights. Vacations. Two houses. A car accident. Lots of lows and highs. But all he could think about was you.

It didn’t bother him that he wasn’t thinking of his wife when he was fucking her these days. The lights stayed off like they usually had before you, and he would pretend he was sinking into you and that you were the one pulling at his hair and moaning his name. It was easy. His wife has no idea. The frequency of sex with his wife was about once every other week or so. He could keep up with that. He’d prefer to be with you in your little apartment and finding his orgasm inside of you rather than with his wife but that was not always possible.

“Did you hear me, babe?” She called to him from the bathroom.

Harry jumped from the bed and walked naked into the bathroom with his wife so he could clean up his own mess, “What was that?”

Laughing as she flushed the toilet, “I was just saying you were so turned on tonight. Did you watch porn or something before?”

She was mostly teasing but Harry knew why she noticed the way he was acting a bit different. And it wasn’t porn. It was that he got a notification that an item he bought for you had arrived. And you were working so you wouldn’t know what was waiting in the mail room until you got home after your shift.

A sex toy. Something he could control remotely. Just the thought of you using it on yourself had him hard in his sweatpants as he climbed into bed with his wife and initiated sex.

He knew it was wrong. To sleep with one woman and think of another. But as the months drew on with his little secret it became easier and easier to imagine he was with you.

But sometimes he’d get distracted by his wife. She’d screech or make a noise that you wouldn’t. Her scent was totally different too. Neither scent was better than the other, just different.

You got him so worked up and so edged that he always had to fight from coming too fast. You made him leak with precome before he even took that first thrust into your pussy. With his wife, there was hardly any build-up or foreplay so it was usually just a little oral sex and a quickie fuck. Which had all been good until you came around.

Now he was obsessed with his dynamic with you. It was better than any he’d had with any woman. And it wasn’t that you were better in bed or anything. It was that the connection you had was better. You were far more stimulating, teasing, fun.

“Nah… you just looked cute tonight,” he grinned as he washed his hands. That wasn’t a lie. His wife was cute. She was a very attractive woman. In fact, he surprised himself by pursuing anything with you at all because his wife was sort of the whole package. Great body, smart, kind, patient, and a good mother. They’d definitely lost their spark sexually, though he seemed to be the only one to notice it. That was really the only issue. They still had sex but it wasn’t fun anymore. It was simply a means to an end.

And the first day that he went to your apartment he knew in the back of his mind what he was doing was wrong. He wasn’t sure he’d have gotten you into bed but he definitely had imagined it. And when the opportunity suddenly opened up he took it. He couldn’t stop himself. Typical man really, he felt. He always championed himself as a great guy with integrity and a good moral compass. But that all flew out the window the moment he was with you on your couch in your living room and he dared to begin asking personal questions. The way you were squirming and your skin got hot and your words were breathy… he knew all he had to do was to lead you to your room and you’d be putty in his hands. He was right.

At first, he had regrets. He wasn’t going to stop but he did have some guilt. But after the second time you were together he knew he was fucked when he realized you still wanted more. You loved sex with him. You wound up begging or giving in to him after he was already so hard it ached. The way you teased and flirted with him before he finally laid you out and licked your pussy was quite intoxicating. And you were eager to suck him off too. God, it fed his ego to have you drooling over his cock like you did. It’d been years since he’d had that.

But lying in bed trying to get to sleep once his wife was tucked in and softly snoring to his left he did feel a pinch of something that gave him anxiety. It was the fact that you weren’t seeing anyone but him (which he preferred). It meant you got the short end of the stick in the relationship. You were seeing a married man. What did that mean for your future? Was Harry fucking everything up for you? Was he taking you away from having a normal dating life and maybe finding true love with a man you could actually be with openly?

Well, he thought that yes, he was definitely getting in your way. He was too old for you on top of it all. And there would be a divide between you and Fae if she were to ever learn of the affair. Potentially? Harry could ruin some really great things in your life.

He hated that feeling he got when he thought about it rationally. Thought about the damage he was doing to himself, to you, to his wife, to Fae. Thought about what kind of man this made him. And he often imagined the fallout. You’d probably get most of the blame. He’d try and defend you and his wife would leave him and his daughter would hate him for a while but would eventually forgive him.

But Fae would never forgive you. And anyone involved would think you were the seducer. That you must have come on to a happily married man, chipped away at his composure until he reluctantly gave in. They’d call you a home wrecker. Slut maybe. The Eve complex and all.

Sure Harry would come out of it looking like a big prick but he’d fair better. He’d eventually start to get big forgiving pats on the back from male members of his family and co-workers. Telling him they understand how it could happen (of course they could). And his wife would also be partially to blame because she’d been neglecting his physical needs– or that would be the gossip. No one would say it to her face. Maybe not even to Harry. But that would be the assumption. That she should have tried harder to keep her man happy. That it was no wonder Harry had strayed.

But none of that was the reality. And he didn’t know if anyone would believe them when he told them that he was the seducer. That he had come on to you. That he went to your apartment and flirted with you and led you to your bedroom and saw your cute SpongeBob panties and fucked you in your own bed over the period of five hours.

Harry saw his ceiling light up when he got a notification on his phone. Rolling over he quickly grabbed and unplugged it before tiptoeing out of the room, leaving his sleeping wife in the bed by herself.

I just got home. What is this?

Harry grinned as he descended the steps and read your message, quietly making his way to his study and closing the doors behind him.

Hi. It’s a toy for you. I’m gonna video call you.

Harry settled on his leather couch and clicked the video call button, letting it ring until you answered.

“Hi, Harry,” you adjusted the camera so your pretty face was in view as you sat on your own living room couch.

“Hi, pup. How was work?”

Harry heard you sigh and watched your eyes round out as you started talking about your late shift, describing one table that was particularly grating.

“But… what’s this? It says luxury app-controlled, sound-activated egg vibrator for ecstasy-inducing sharable play,” you laughed as you read the side of the box.

“Well, it’s just what it says. We’ll look at it tomorrow and connect to the app so I can have access to it whenever we want to use it. S’just like something for when I’m not there.”

“Tomorrow?” You looked from the box to the phone screen in question.

“Yeah. In the morning. Is that okay? I know you work tomorrow night and I figured I could come over for a few hours before you have to get to the restaurant.”

You nodded with your large grin and bright eyes, “Yes! Of course it is!”

.           .           .

It turned out that all Harry needed to get to sleep was to hear your voice on the phone. When he woke up the following morning his wife was just coming out of the bathroom, brushing her teeth, fresh-faced and soft and cozy looking.

That stab of anxiety he’d been stuck on the night before came rushing back, icing his veins and dampening the excitement he normally would have felt knowing he was going to see his lover.

It felt like a warning. He needed to talk to you.

When he left his house he’d told his wife he was going into the office. Which he would, after he left your apartment. The nice thing about his job title was that he could come and go from the office as he pleased. He could tell everyone he’d been in a lunch meeting or a golf outing with a potential buyer. He could tell his wife he was going to work.

Knocking at your front door he felt a bit of dread. He wanted to see you and kiss you but he needed to sort out what had been weighing on him before you parted ways for the day.

You opened your door in just a pair of panties and pulled him inside quickly so no one saw your state of undress.

You nearly climbed up his frame, jumping into his arms as he placed his hands under your thighs to hold you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him as your soft tits pressed into his button-up shirt.

He brought you to your bedroom, keeping an eye open so he didn’t trip on the way. You were insatiable.

When he dropped you onto your bed he climbed over your body and smoothed his hands up your torso letting his palms squish your breasts, “What’s going on, puppy? Couldn’t wait to get me in your bed?”

You laughed against his lips and nodded, “You’re the one who brought me in here. I was just saying hello.”

Harry shook his head and sat back between your legs, “You greeted me wearing only panties and then jumped on me like you were some kind of wild barbarian. I think you wanted me in your bed.” He pinched your nipples between his fingers and you gasped.

“Just…” you decided to give in far too fast. You did miss him. You woke up from a dream about him and it left you needy and hot and horny. And normally you’d have taken care of it but you knew Harry was coming so you waited. And now you were on edge. “Just fuck me.”

Harry raised a brow and grinned, “Just fuck you? What a potty mouth. Where are your manners, dear?”

You groaned and pulled at his collar to bring him down over you, “Please. God… please sir. I need you.”

Harry smiled against your lips as he quickly began to undo his pants, “There we go. There’s my sweet girl. Needs me so badly today. Fuck, honey…” he moaned when he felt how slick you were already, a finger along the side of your panties.

Pressing your thighs into your chest he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your panties, pulling it to the side, and attached his lips to your pussy, making you whine loudly. He sucked and licked and moaned into you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You wanted something else, “Give me your cock. Please, sir. Want your come so bad.”

Harry kissed your labia and closed his eyes. You loved his come. Ever since that night, you begged him to breed you it had been more of a thing. In fact, you rarely let him come anywhere other than inside of your cunt. Even if you were gagging on his cock and he was beginning to release you’d drag him down and beg him to give it to you in your pussy where it belonged (your words). And he didn’t like denying you.

Though the last morning he saw you he came on your tits and you pouted about the waste.

“Want me to fill your little pussy full so you can go wait tables with my come packed inside of you?”

Nodding your head you moaned and yanked at his collar again. Harry laughed, “Careful. Gonna tear it, baby.”

“Please take it off, Harry.” You fidgeted under him and began to pluck at his buttons.

Harry grinned at you and sat up again so he could unbutton his shirt. But first, he swatted at your bare thigh before moving your fingers away from his shirt, “You don’t think I’m gonna take care of you? What’s got you so riled up, pup?”

You didn’t know how much more you could take. You weren’t in the mood for any teasing and you were running short on time before he needed to leave. You needed to feel that connection with him. To feel him inside of you.

“Dreamed of you and woke up needing you so bad. Please…” You reached for him again as Harry was undoing his buttons. He leaned back away from your grasp and stood up to disrobe himself before pulling your panties down your legs.

“A dream?” He asked as he shoved you into the bed so your head landed on your pillows and he settled in between your legs, pushing at your soft thighs, “Tell me about it. What happened in your dream?”

You groaned and pouted, “Please… please fuck me, Harry!”

Harry held your wrists down as you attempted to grab at him again, “Ah, ah, ah… tell me what your dream was and then I’ll fuck you.”

You huffed and let out a grunt of disappointment before looking at him directly to tell him quickly what he wanted to know. You just needed him to hurry up and put himself inside of you, “You were fucking me. Really hard and I woke up before I could come.”

“Mmm… yeah? And what position were in you? How was I fucking you, puppy?”

“At first you were soft and on top of me but then you flipped me to my tummy and spanked me and entered me while my tummy was flat on the bed and you held me down and just… it was really hard and fast and my face was stuffed into the blankets and then I woke up.”

“That sounds yummy. Should we reenact that?” Harry slid his cockhead through your labia, the wetness coating him.

You nodded, “Anything. Just… please.”

Thrusting in shallowly, you moaned and bucked your hips upward to push him in deeper. You were getting impatient. Needed to be filled to the brim right then.

“Woah, there. Slow down, pup. I know you want me to just fuck you til your dumb with no thoughts in that little head of yours but I want to savor this. Love feeling the way you open for me,” Harry spoke softly but with a bit of a condescending bite, his fingers grasping onto your thighs, “Feel me, honey. Just feel the way my cock pushes into you,” he began to push in deeper, “Feel how hard you make me and how your muscles expand around me. How good it is, baby.”

You put an arm over your eyes and did just that. Let him slowly push his way into you, his thick crown intruding and pushing your insides apart. Stretching. He always did it the way he wanted. Which meant teasing and edging and going in slow at first.

But what you wanted wasn’t exactly something slow and teasing. You let out a sob and jutted your bottom lip out, arm still over your eyes.

You heard Harry chuckle as he grasped your wrist and moved your arm away from your face, “Let me see your face, puppy. Those pretty eyes of yours keep me going when I’m not with you. Need to see them so I can think of you later just like this.”

You loved it. Loved the way he talked to you and how he made you feel. When he was with you, you felt like you were his number one. Of course, when he wasn’t with you, you had your doubts. But in that moment you believed him and looked into his eyes so he could have what he wanted.

“Good girl. Fuck… That feels fucking incredible, doesn’t it? Made for me.” Harry rocked into you with one final plunge, dipping his tip into your cervix and making you squeal like he loved.

“See? Gonna give you what you want. Always do.”

You cooed in relief once he began to drive into you in long, wet strokes. His pubic hair was gradually getting wetter as he bottomed out over and over again.

He started off slow. Just like your dream. The way he rolled his hips into you and dipped into you so deep it ached and made you suck in sharp breaths at each poke.

“Feel good, puppy? This what you needed?”

You softly moaned and nodded, “More too. Want more. Please…”

Harry’s cock was certainly feeling that delicious squeeze you gave him. Goosebumps covered his thighs as he thrusted deep and he keened at the slick warmth of your cunt.

“Please!” You yelped when he suddenly rutted into you in one swift drive, knocking into you with a harsh thud.

He smiled as he pulled himself out and gripped onto your hips, flipping you onto your tummy and giving you a handful of healthy swats to your butt cheeks, leaving bruising marks behind before he tilted your hips so he could press himself right back into you. But this time he didn’t go slow. He was going to fuck you the way you dreamt.

He began fucking into you fast and deep and hard. His hips slapped into your bottom and you yelped and whimpered loudly into the blankets. He held your cheeks apart to watch himself driving into you before leaning over your back and holding you down by the back of your neck.

Your bed squeaked and creaked loudly as he plunged into you in punishing strokes. His own gasps and moans getting increasingly louder.

You loved hearing him moan. Harry wasn’t quiet when he fucked you. He often spoke dirty to you but he also gasped and panted and whimpered right along with you. You absolutely loved it.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He groaned loudly as he worked himself into you as quickly as his strong muscles allowed. And Harry was strong. There was never a single question about that. From the first time you slept with him, you realized just how fit and incredibly solid, and powerful he was.

You were rendered completely silent with your mouth wide open and your blankets stuffed into your mouth, your face smushed into the bed as he railed you hard. Your body smacked up and up and up each time his hips struck against your ass. Loud smacks and wet thuds sounded in the room as he split you in two with his big cock.

It was methodical the way he fucked into you. His thighs bulged and began to burn at the way he was working them. But it wasn’t his muscles that couldn’t keep going. His body was strong and he had great stamina. He could continue sinking into you over and over again in this way for hours. No. What was making it hard to continue was that his balls were tightening and he began to feel the climb of his orgasm so he stopped as he caught his breath, his hand still wrapped around the back of your neck as his chest rose and fell.

You felt him stuff your blankets into a ball underneath you, “Rub your clit on this so you can come for me. Then I’m gonna fill you up like you need.”

You felt the stimulation immediately against your wet clit as he started to drive into you again. This time his words were closer as he spoke into your ear and his lips grazed over your neck, “Come f’me puppy. Want you to feel so good when I pour myself into you.”

You whined and gasped as he slicked into you deep. This time his strokes weren’t as fast but they were achingly deep and every time he bottomed out, your hips drove down into the balled-up fabric of the blankets under you, pressing and rubbing your clit into the material.

Divine and complete. That’s how it felt. His dirty words in your ears. His cock in your cunt. Your heart pounding in your chest.

You squeaked as you began to see stars and writhe your hips into the blankets for more friction. You tried to speak but your mouth was covered by your blankets as you began to pulse around him, the heat covered your back and your bum as you gushed onto the fabric of your blankets.

Harry coughed a loud groan and slid into you slowly as he felt you coming. He gasped when he finally began to come and leak into you, “Gonna put a baby in there, yeah? Fuck! Pussy needs to be bred…” he groaned his words and then stilled his hips, keeping them flush against your bottom as he drained himself into you, throbbing and pumping and twitching so hard you could feel every delicious spurt.

You sighed as you felt your whole body tingle. Harry was shivering with the way your pussy milked him like no one else could and when he collapsed over your back you felt him stuff his arms under your torso and hold you tight. His breath fell over your neck, hot and sticky.

You loved it. Loved every bit of what he gave you. Loved having him connected to you, keeping himself tucked inside of you until you both calmed and could breathe again.

When you felt his lips warm over your skin and down to your shoulder you turned your head so your mouth was clear of your blankets, “You always fuck me so good.” Was all you could get out of your mouth.

Harry chuckled and you felt him move off of you and then roll you to your side as he plopped down next to you, his hands on your hip, “S’that what you needed?”

You grinned and nodded at him, sliding your palm up his chest and relishing the feel of his warm skin and hair under your palm.

It was always soft and sweet after sex. He took care of you. Cuddled with you. Told you how good you were and how you were his favorite girl and how pretty and sweet and smart you were. You were spoiled with the way he cleaned you up and kissed your hot skin and brushed his fingers over your curves and looked into your eyes with that gentle longing that you knew meant his words were real. And that his feelings went beyond those words.

“I wanted to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind a bit.” He said as he buttoned up his shirt and you slid on a pair of shorts.

“Okay. What about?” You didn’t like his sudden serious tone. The change of subject. It sounded serious.

“Come sit down with me.”

You gulped nervously and felt lightheaded. You couldn’t imagine what he’d want to talk about with you that warranted a sit-down.

You sat next to him on your couch and fiddled with the bottom hem of your shirt as you kept your eyes on his.

He appeared nervous too. Or uncomfortable at the very least. Part of you thought maybe he’d want to connect your little toy to his phone but that hadn’t come up yet.

“I feel like what we’re doing is really great, for me and you. When we’re together it’s amazing. I really like you a lot. And I don’t want you to start resenting me or feeling upset that this isn’t a traditional relationship,” he paused and watched you for a moment before continuing. “And thought it might be good if you wanted to like,” he reached behind himself and scratched the back of his neck before breaking eye contact with you, “date someone else.”

You sat in stunned silence. Date someone else? It felt like a slap in the face after that shag you’d just had.

“What? Harry, are you breaking up with me?” He still wasn’t looking at you in the eyes.

“No. Of course not,” then he turned his gaze back to you finally, “I just think it’s not fair, our situation. I’m married and you’re… well…” he inhaled deeply and licked his lips, “You should see other people. Don’t you think?”

You shook your head and stood up from the couch to pace. You were beginning to feel angry, “So what about us? If I start to see someone else that’s it? No more of this?”

Harry stood up and stepped in front of you and took your hands in his, “I would hope you and I could continue seeing each other like this. But I just want you to feel like your life is going in the right direction. That you can date and be with someone else. I want this to be an equal relationship. Does that make sense?” You shook your head again, “Why would I want to see anyone else, Harry? I don’t want anyone else. Just you.” You tried to fight the tears that were filling your eyes and making your sight blurry but you knew the moment you blinked there would be salty wets streak down your cheeks.

“I know puppy, but I’m married and it’s not fair for you. I think it would be good, you know?”

You scoffed, pulling your hands from his and crossing your arms over your chest, “Don’t call me puppy. That’s not fair.”

He sighed and nodded, “Sorry, Y/n.”

You looked back into his eyes and all you could see was a man you wanted all to yourself. But you knew that wasn’t going to ever happen. But that didn’t mean you wanted to fuck anyone else.

“You’re right. Our relationship has never been even. You have a wife and a happy life. I get your leftovers. But fuck you for thinking that me dating someone else will make you feel better or something. I’m too far gone for that, Harry.”

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like it’s for my benefit. I just want you–“

“Oh I heard you. So you want me to fuck other guys? Go on dates and find happiness with someone that I can actually be with? Meanwhile I’m still fucking you in secret so then not only would you be lying and cheating, I would be too. Then we’d be even right? You wouldn’t have as much guilt.”

Harry shook his head and ran his hands over his face, “No, pup­–“

“Don’t!” You pointed at him as your felt the tears drip off your chin, “Don’t call me puppy. Not now. I know what this is. I’m not dumb you fucker.”

You turned to walk toward your kitchen. You need a glass of water. Something to cool you off and get your head level. This news was not something you ever wanted to hear from him. It just meant what you already knew. That he was never going to be yours to have. That this was always only a secret affair. A dirty thing to hide from everyone.

Harry followed you into your kitchen and sighed as he watched you get a glass down from your cupboard with shaky hands. You were trembling so hard he was worried you were going to drop the glass. He hadn’t meant to upset you. He thought it would a way for you to have a life outside of just him. Not that he wanted that. Fuck no he didn’t want anyone else near you. Wanted you to himself but he figured that wasn’t fair of him. He intended for it to be a kind gesture of selflessness but listening to your response had him rethinking that notion.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was right behind you as he helped you grasp your glass and bring it down to the counter. You felt his hand on the back of your hip and his chest press into your back, “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that at all. It was not my intention to hurt you, Y/n. I just don’t want to be selfish with you. Hate the thought of anyone else touching you but that’s not fair of me.”

His arms wrapped around your front and he squeezed. You closed your eyes and sniffed, keeping your hands down on the countertop. You were still angry at him.

“Do you understand how I feel about you? I don’t think you do?” He spoke quietly into your ear.

You shook your head in response.

Harry moved and turned you around to face him as he tilted your chin up, “Please look at me.”

Reluctantly you opened your teary eyes and did as he said.

“You’re so so special to me. I know what we’re doing is wrong but it’s not just sex with you. Not for me. I’m not just using you because your cute and fun. I like you a lot, Y/n. More than I should. You’re all I think about these days. I just don’t want you to ever regret our time together. Want you to live a normal life outside of this,” he gestured between you two. “I don’t want to lose what we have but I want you to explore something else. Ya know? Because while I’m at home at night with my wife you’re here alone and I don’t want you to feel like you resent me for keeping you all to myself. If you don’t want to see anyone else that’s your choice. I just want you to know I’ll still feel the same way about you if you do. It’s an option.”

His thumb moved along your jaw in the most tender way and you couldn’t stop the tears from pouring. You didn’t want anyone but him. And you didn’t want him to have anyone but you. If you could you’d have the whole world burn to ash except for a small island in the middle of the ocean where you and Harry could live together forever without anyone else. That’s how bad you had it for him. To invite another person into that felt like a rip to your heart. It would shred your soul in half if you kissed anyone else.

“Harry… I don’t know how to tell you how I feel about us without sounding like I’m,” you hiccupped and wiped your face, “obsessed or crazy… but I just can’t. I can’t be with anyone else. That would tear me apart. I can’t do that.”

Harry pulled you into his chest and held you tight, “You don’t have to, Y/n. I just want you to know you can. If you ever met someone. I don’t want you to but I can’t be selfish with you the way I have been.”

You understood it. But you hated it. And you were still angry. Maybe you weren’t angry at him. Maybe you were, you couldn’t tell. But you were upset and you knew that you’d never wind up happy with him like you fantasized about.

You pushed yourself back and looked up at him, “Okay. I get it. Fine.”

Harry looked sad. Defeated at your words as he blinked his own tears away.

“Are we okay, Y/n?”

You shook your head and scoffed a laugh, “I guess we’re never gonna be okay are we, Harry?”

Harry furrowed his brows. He was upset. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you and I… we don’t get to be together. Not really. Because that’s all this is. It’s just a lie. So I should see someone else. Find myself a man I can be with openly. Like you want.”

He gulped hard and opened his mouth but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. How to respond. He knew you were hurt. You needed time to calm down and come to terms with it all.

And you wanted him to take it back. Wanted him to change his mind and tell you that he didn’t want you with anyone and he was dumb for suggesting it and that you were only allowed to be his. But he didn’t. Instead, he just looked sad.

“Well, I need to start getting ready for work. I’ve got some things to do. You should go.”

Harry backed away from you as he blinked his eyes. He really really hadn’t meant for it to go this way.

“Should we look at that toy before I go?” He cringed, immediately regretting saying it. Bringing it up. God, he was such a fucking dumbass at times. He was so thrown off by the way you responded and his whole day was going to be spent regretting this entire visit. He should have had the talk before you two had sex. Or maybe he should have never said it to begin with. He thought what he was doing by telling you was a good thing. Maybe it hadn’t been.

You laughed loudly and walked out of your kitchen quickly. Harry followed close behind you as you went into your bedroom and plucked the box up from the floor next to your bed. You shoved it into his chest, “It’s yours. You can take it back or use it on your wife or something. Don’t waste it on your side piece.”

“Hey, Y/n. Come on. Don’t do this…” he followed you into your living room where you picked up his cell phone, wallet, and keys handing them to him, “Do you need a bag? Probably don’t want to walk outside carrying a remote sex toy do you.”

He watched you, stunned as you went into your kitchen and dug out a plastic shopping bag for him, “There. Now you can go.”

“Y/n. Baby…”

“Don’t fucking call me baby or puppy or anything. Leave. Please. I need to be alone.”

You wanted to break down so bad. Needed him gone so you could just unravel and crumble in peace. 

Harry stuck the box into the plastic bag and you watched as tears fell from his lash line down his cheeks. You didn’t want to make him cry. It sucked that you still wanted him happy above all else even in your own misery. But you needed to cry and scream and break something so you needed him gone.

You opened your door and looked down at the knob as you waited for him to leave. He paused next to you and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n, I’m sorry. Please…”

Shaking your head you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You began to sob and suck in sharp breaths, “Just Go, Harry.”

It was the worst moment of your life maybe. Probably. You pushed the man you were smitten with, the one you were sure you’d fallen completely head over heels for, out your door as his own heart broke right in front of you and tears welled in his eyes.

But you couldn’t watch it. Couldn’t bear to see him breaking down or crying. Because you knew he was already hurting. You saw the look on his face. You knew he was suggesting something with only the best intentions for you but it hurt. There was no good thing that could come from you and Harry being together. That was clear.

Months of having fun with him and getting to know him in a way you never thought you would. Learning what real intimacy looks and feels like. Finding yourself drawn to him. You’d formed a bond, the two of you. Trust and respect and comfort. But it was all a lie.

Now you needed to grow up and stop playing around. If you didn’t put an end to it now the hurt you’d feel later down the line would completely destroy you if it hadn’t already.

It wasn’t fair. But perhaps Harry was right.

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sugardaddy!patrick finally has you to himself, an unfortunate tale of events for sugardaddy!art | part three of sugardaddy!au | 18+

art wakes, arms reaching out for you. you're not there, he rubs his eyes and sees your note on the nightstand.

i love you, art donaldson.

the two of you had never uttered those words to each other. he wanted to, so badly, so many times. but he knew the arrangement, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he slips on a pair of boxers and heads downstairs to find you. he stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep. tashi is sat at the breakfast bar, handing him a protein shake. "let's go, you've got training in an hour." she carries on typing on her laptop. "what? you said i had today off," he lifts the shake up to his lips. "well, now you don't." she shuts her laptop. "where is she?" he questions his wife. "gone, i sent her away." it's like art's world just stopped moving. he's ready to call his lawyer immediately and get the divorce papers together. "get her back, now tashi. you can't do this to me. i love her." tashi puts her laptop in her handbag. "and that's exactly why she had to go."

patrick wasted no time pulling you into his room and fucking the life out of you again. you're becoming like a drug to him already. the two of you lay together on his hotel bed. "now, you gonna explain to me why you were sat with tashi yesterday? leaving with her and art?" walking over to the open window, he lights a cigarette. "she told you, i'm modelling for her new campaign." even after the hurt she's caused you, you still lie for her. he shakes his head, taking a drag of his cigarette. "the real reason, not some weird pr reason that tashi uses to cover up." you debate telling him everything, tashi took art away from you, you doubt patrick would tell anyone anyway, given him now being in the same situation with you that art was. not yet, you think. "can i tell you some other time?" you sit up. patrick shrugs, "sure, princess."

he throws his cigarette out the window, pulling a clothes bag out of the wardrobe. "i bought you this, to wear later, to my match." he unzips the bag, showcasing a white loewe dress. "you want me to come to your match?" you question, eyes not leaving the beautiful garment patrick is holding out for you. "well yeah, what if i want my cock sucked after i win?" it's like he knows. knows that's exactly what you did to art only minutes before he caught you in the hallway yesterday. he's smirking too. "well, you gonna try it on or what?" you jump up, almost snatching the clothes bag from his hands. "there's some lingerie in there too that i want you to wear, oh and i got a girl at sephora to pick out some make up for you, that's in the bathroom, so you don't need to go home and get ready." your brows furrow, looking up at patrick. he's so thoughtful when he's not being an arrogant fuck. "what?" he laughs, finally handing you the outfit. "i told you, you look after my needs and i'll make sure you look extra pretty as you do."

you carry the clothes bag into the bathroom, giggling as you go. you jump into the shower, washing yourself quickly before pulling the lingerie out of the bag, white lace to match the dress. you don't even want to know how the hell he got all your sizes right.

(he called up a stylist you'd worked with, telling them he was a stylist too, who'd lost the document with your sizes on. he's very resourceful when he needs to be)

you apply your make up and blow dry your hair, exiting the bathroom, still just in your underwear. he'd gotten ready for training in your absence, tiny black shorts and a matching tank. fuck. art's tennis shirt is still in your purse. the purse with his initials on. you pray that patrick has bought you a new matching bag.

"god, you're ridiculous." patrick mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling your body towards him as he kisses your stomach. "christ, if i wasn't already late to practise i'd fuck you again right now." he looks up to you as you smile. "you'll just have to be patient then, patrick." you turn around, he falls backwards on the bed at the sight of your ass. "jesus christ," you laugh walking back to the bathroom. "put your dress on, you're coming with me to training." you keep the door open, slipping the dress off it's hanger and placing it on your body. fits like a glove. "you're sure? you don't want me to just make my own way later to watch the match?" patrick stands, zipping up the back of your dress. "i'm not letting you out of my sight princess, i wouldn't dare, can't risk someone else coming along to try and take you from me." he places a kiss on the back of your neck. he points over to the chair in the corner of the room, matching shoes and bag wait for you. "when did you even do all this?" you question. "yesterday." he's smug in his answer. "but i hadn't even said yes yesterday!" you jokingly shove him. "i knew you would."

you're nervous in the car there, patrick drives with his hand on your thigh. what if art is there? what if tashi is there? what if either of them see you with patrick? patrick carries his bags on his shoulder, linking his free hand with yours, leading you to his dressing room. it surprises you, art kept you so private, never touched you in public unless he knew for certain no one was around. yet here's patrick, holding your hand, in the middle of a tennis tournament, not even considering the thought of caring who might see. frankly, he wants people to see. he wants people to know you belong to him now. he drops one of his duffles in the room, keeping the other on his shoulder. "c'mon princess, you can sit on the side and watch me practise." you can't believe it, he seriously isn't hiding you in any way, shape or form. there's a few rows of bleachers at the practise courts, he walks you over to them. kissing your mouth, winking and meeting his coach on the court. "i know, i know, i'm late," his coach looks at him, then you. he laughs at patrick, throwing a ball to him. "can't even blame you, patrick, i would be too."

for the first time since arriving at patrick's hotel this morning, you check your phone. 27 missed calls. from art. you open up your texts, reading through the mass he's set you along with the attempted calls.

baby, please come home.

don't worry about tashi. i'll work it all out.

you don't have to be scared of her. i miss you so much.

i love you too baby please just come home.

you can't reply. for fear of tashi, you ignore them all. you're sad, of course. heartbroken. but falling in love with art was never part of the deal. you let it go too far, he was married for god's sake, you won't let it go that far again. you look up, back to patrick. he winks to you, carrying on with his serves. you lift your feet onto the chair in front of you, returning to your phone. scrolling through your social media for a while before patrick appears at your side. he's sweaty, his skin glistening in the sun. "you know i can see your lacy little panties from down there with your feet up on the chair like that." he takes a swig from the water bottle he's holding. gasping, you move your feet back to the floor. you're blushing, he loves it. leaning down to you, his lips grazing your ear. "put them back." he orders. he's so dirty, you're revelling in it. he moves his hand between your legs, teasing you. you're so grateful his coach is turned around picking up the stray tennis balls. you moan into his ear. "you're so easy to turn on, baby." he lifts your legs back onto the chair in front, kissing your knee and walking down the stairs of the bleachers. "don't fucking move them or you're in trouble."

despite his distraction, patrick plays well. following all instructions from his coach. wrapping up after an hour or two. he rushes up to where you're sat, pulling you down the stairs and back to his private room just as quick. he sits on the bench in the room, pulling you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "we've got a couple hours before my match starts," he's kissing your face as he speaks. "so i say we get some food, get you some drinks, give me some pussy, what'd ya think, kitten?" you're grinding slowly against him as you reply. "can we do it in reverse order?" you tug on his earlobe with your teeth. "oh christ, absolutely." he hitches your dress up, letting it bunch up around your waist. shimmying his shorts and boxers down his legs, pushing your underwear to the side. you reach between your bodies, lining patrick up with your pussy. you pump his shaft as you hold him there for a few seconds, he bucks his hips up, forcing his way inside you. "stop fucking teasing."

he pulls out of you before he comes, his load landing over his tank. "you're lucky that didn't land on my dress." you giggle into his neck. "oh no, then i'd have to buy you a new one." he mocks you, kissing the side of your head. he cleans himself up, changing into a white polo. "let's go, princess, i'm ready to eat after that." he takes your hand again. "are you sure you want to leave to do that? i'm all for you eating me out in public but that might get you disqualified." you joke with him, taking his hand. rolling his eyes and laughing. "we'll have to wait until later before i lap up my dessert." he kisses your lips, opening the door for you, leading you to the bar. his hand doesn't drop yours, as you thought it would, only once he finds a table. pulling out a chair for you to sit. you peruse the menu of light lunches the bar has on offer, telling patrick your order as he leaves the table to order at the bar.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" tashi has occupied patrick's seat. "i told you to stay away from us." you're scared, and anxious, but you can't let tashi see through you so easily. "i'm not here for either of you." tashi scoffs, folding her arms. "bullshit. why are you here then?" patrick returns to the table that moment, placing his smoothie and your tequila lime soda on the table. "oh you've got to be kidding me." tashi scoffs again. "look, tashi, i don't know what business the three of you have going on. but i can tell that whatever it is, is over." her gaze leaves you, looking up to patrick in disbelief. looking tashi in the eyes as your name leaves his lips, placing a hand on your shoulder, "is here with me, as my date. so can you maybe leave us to it?" holy fuck. he's defending you. to tashi. calling you his date. so openly. tashi stands, breathing deeply as she leans down to whisper in your ear. "didn't take you long to jump from art's dick to his best friends, did it now? wonder how art would feel about that?" goosebumps rise on your skin. she walks away, patrick sitting down opposite you. you know she'd never tell art, it would break him even more than she already had, meaning he'd grow even further away from completing his grand slam, the one thing tashi actually cared about.

patrick's legs touch yours under the table. "hey, fuck her, okay? whatever she said, ignore it. you're with me now, don't worry about it." you nod your head at patrick's words. sipping your drink, rubbing your leg against his. food arrives as you and patrick share more about yourselves, his interests outside of tennis, your life outside your career. you're more compatible then you thought you would be. after eating, sharing more about your lives and a few more drinks, patrick walks you over to your seat in the stands, it's the best seat in the house, the first row, right in the middle of the court, the net mere feet away from you. you grow shy with the amount of looks on you, patrick leans over the barrier that separates him on the court and you in the stands, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before speaking sweetly to you. "i told you baby, i'm not letting anyone take you from me, so i gotta show them you're mine." he pecks your cheek before taking off to warm up and get ready for his match.

you check your phone again while waiting for it to start. more calls and texts from art. you can't even open them, instead opening instagram, snapping a picture of the bottom half of your outfit, purse on your lap, legs crossed, showing off your new shoes. the picture shows how close you are to the court. captioning the image 'day two of a tennis filled week' and uploading to your story. you're texting your friend about a date she's about to go on when art replies to your story.

are you at patrick's match???

is this becoming a mini series yes i think it is idk about u guys but i cant get enough

[octopiys]

Lost and Found

Prev | Next

iv. creekwater eggshells

Six hours. You have six whole hours to put together a meal for Simon, and who you think is his best friend, along with said best friend's....wife? You weren't sure. You hoped that was the case.

Six hours. You can do this, right? You've made pasta, at least some variation of it, at least a few times a week since you've made yourself a little space here.

Slowly, Simon noticed, you were acclimating. Your room was still bare, but he could fix that. He just needed to make sure that you knew that it was, well, safe here. He wouldn't force you to stay, that's not what he's trying to do. He's seen that, and swore he'd never bring that upon somebody else. His house would be safe.

You had a small bag, shoved in between the blankets in your closet, of your personal belongings. The clothing that Simon had gotten you sat in a very empty dresser, made of old stained wood. He bought it off the woman up the street who wanted to paint it like.... grey or something. He couldn't bear to see that happen, so he knicked it off of them for a tenner to her husband.

Maybe this weekend he'll take you to a furniture shop. Help you decorate.

You're covered in flour the next time he spots you, as he was walking in to figure out how he could help. You've noticed he never asks, just silently assumes the nearest task, and finishes it just as fast.

You look like a doe caught in headlights when you spot him. Nothing that lives in this house was spared by the wrath of this now open bag of flour. Sweet Barrow was a different color completely, and not at all phased by this change, as she sleeps right through it.

Scraggle, however, does not take this transgression lightly. No no no, this is deepest insult to Scraggle, you try and give Scraggle color? You try and give Scraggle fur? No, this is an attack, Scraggle does not take lying down. Scraggle is-

Simon pats off the yowling cat who was weaving in between his feet and clawing at the hems of his pants, brushing it free of flour.

Scraggle rolls around on the ground, before seemingly getting over itself, and wandering back into your room.

He hears you giggle, and looks up. The sound makes his chest ache in a way he doesn't know how to describe. "Wot is it?"

"You an' that cat." You say, still laughing minutely to yourself, before turning back to the mess on the counter. You crack in egg in the center of the flour ring, and begin mixing it in slowly, before kneading the dough as it forms. You've printed out a little sheet of instructions that you have taped to the cabinet in front of you.

He watches you from the archway, crossing his arms as he leans against it, taking you in, breathing the scene like the flour that puffs up as you move your hands. Your tongue peeks out from your lips as you focus in concentration. There's flour smeared on your cheek, egg caked on your hands.

He's getting used to this, he realizes, as almost a month had passed. Used to the domesticity of it all. There's peace in his chest, the ugly thing, taken root deep inside. He's not sure what would happen if it fizzled, burned out.

You had gone out to the back garden. There were a couple wild herbs you had spotted out here.

You liked how they had bundled in your small hands, of only a few years. These ones didn't sting your palms like the ones with the pokey leaves, or did they itch like the softer flowers. Your momma liked these ones. Said they made good tea. Spiced up what needed to be spiced, and sweetened what needed to be sweet. Just like you.

"You can find it anywhere," she had told you, calling your name across the hills. It's abundant as water, flows as common as grass. The air is smoky, you wonder if someone is cooking.

You shocked to the present the second you stepped into the creek, the cold water soaking up your long socks.

The basket trembles in your hands, and you swallow, just out of view from the house, just inside of the trees. This is Simon's land.

You're safe, you tell yourself, you're safe, you're safe–

There's a soft piddle against the soft of your lower leg, a little peep. You almost hop out of the way in surprise before you see it.

There's a little duckling brushing up against your inner ankle, newly hatched by its size. It peeps and *wecks* and you swear right then that you may not be it's mother but you are now, no other bird in sight. It's a fuzzy little creature with dark eyes that possess no thoughts whatsoever, and it is yours.

"Don't take what does not belong to you. Greed is unbecoming of you. You aren't behaving poorly now, are you?" His accent wafts through the air, stifling like a too humid day. The grip at the base of your hip tightens.

There's a soft *weck* as you pick up the tiny bird, cradling it into your hands. It's shivering, trembling, looking for warmth.

You'd found enough herbs today, you decided. Needed to get out of the woods, like Little Red should never have gone down the path, lest the Wolf catches her scent.

You pick up your basket and hurry back to the cottage, calling for Simon to find a lamp.

You miss the tall grass, disturbed by boot prints much too big for you, planted in the center of a squashed nest. The yellows of the inner egg have dried into the earth, parents nowhere to be found.

"Simon! Get me a lamp!" You shout, slamming the back door open, your hands bundled around the small creature.

It was in no life threatening danger, in fact, it looked quite content to just stay curled in your palm, but you were determined to get it better warmth.

Simon shoots out of his bedroom, concerned— a familiar expression of his, whenever you reenter your home– before spotting the little wriggling mass in your hands. He blinks once, twice, before closing the door on Scraggle, who wanted to see who dared disturb it's slumber.

"That's a duck." Simon says shortly, and you stop, slowly turning around and looking at him.

Said duck peeps in response.

Apparently, your look said whatever Simon needed to hear because he disappeared down the hall and returned with an old shoe box, and a reptile lamp you recognized from the old tank in your room.

Duck in hand, you leave to the kitchen to find a spare hand towel, tossing it at Simon who puts it into the box, and he plugs the lamp in.

The buzz fills the working silence.

"So... where'd ya find the lil lad?" He asks after a moment.

"By the creek. Couldn't find his parents. Didn't wanna leave him alone out there, he looks too small-" You stop yourself short as sweet Barrow lumbers in through the dog door, sniffing the air curiously, before deciding to lay down right there. "You're- You're provably gonna make me put him back- I'll- I'll, uh-"

Simon hushes you, brows furrowed at the sight of your watery eyes. "I ain't say that, honey."

"B- but-" You don't mean for it, but tears well up in your eyes anyways, your lower lip trembling. "You can't take in any more animals-"

"Says who? Y' challengin' me or somethin'?" He huffs, and you panic, shaking your head as a tear slides down your cheek, frantic. The duck deeps again.

"I got 'nough stuff, honey. A duck ain't gonna send us over the edge. Here, can I-" He reaches for the peeping mass of feathers, but you surprise yourself by jerking back, holding it out of his reach.

"Don't-!"

He blinks, before you burst into tears, tugging the duck to your chest, apologizing profusely. "I- I'm sorry, I just- I trust you- I- I don't wanna give up on him-"

"Honey, nobody's givin' up on him-"

"Cus he's so small, an' he doesn't deserve it, I don't want anyone to hurt him, Si, he doesn't deserve it-" You sob to him, or to the duck, who isn't comprehending anything that's really going on right now, because the lights are on and everyone moved out.

Simon tugs at the carpet, for once unsure what to do. He chews his lip, thinking. He doesn't fault you at all, he's not upset, the duck is yours. You're protective of it,that's nothing to be ashamed of. There's a pain in his chest when you cry, and he's not sure it's completely uncoincidental. "Honey...? How 'bout you put him in the box, then we'll set him up on the counter so he can watch us cook, okay? Promise I won't touch him."

You sniffle, nodding, feeling horrible that you snapped at Simon in the first place, though he doesn't think you even did at all.

"Are you still up for dinner, do you wanna have a night in? We can reschedule, I'm sure they won't mind." Simon asks, his voice softer than you've heard in a while. You feel embarrassed.

"W- we can keep cooking, it's- I'm sorry, I just...." You hiccup, bowing your head.

"The duck'll be safe, hon. Ain't nobody else I'd trust more with somethin' that fuckin' small than you. Ain't nobody's gonna hurt it, and if they do, then I'll sic Barrow on em."

You're both pretty sure Barrow is snoring with her eyes open, bless her sweet little heart.

"N- no, you'll have to send Scraggle, we'll n- never see the poor bastard again, that's for sure, it'll slice em to ribbons..." You giggle slightly, the sudden pressure in your chest lightening as you gently set the duck into the box on the counter.

The cat yowls behind the door, it's paws peeking out from beneath it, trying to grab at one of Simon's socks in the hallway. This is an ATTACK on Scraggle, attack of the greatest degree, curse to Father and curse to Mother-

You sniffle again, and Simon offers you a tissue. You hesitate, before wrapping your arms around him instead, burying your stuffy nose in his shirt.

He tenses at first, before slowly relaxing into it, and he puts an arm around you too.

He was warm, warmer than usual, a little soft around his middle, but built enough like a country man. He vaguely reminded you of a warrior, well fed and strong. The warrior of this little farm. He smelled of cedar and campfire smoke, with something else richer underneath.

You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you had been holding, and Simon's arms tighten. When was the last time you'd hugged someone?

The duck is safe, and so are you.

Nothing can take that away, not if Simon has anything to say about it.

And he has many, many things to say.

masterlist

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-One - Run Away, Baby

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.8K words

Series Masterlist

"We can't stay in the cabin," Carlos said to Oscar.

Both men were still awake, sitting in the kitchen while Y/N had a nap. They had a drink of whisky between them, one Carlos had bought on his last trip into the town. "I won't have my baby born in the safehouse."

Oscar took a sip of his drink. "Are you gonna go back to the house?" He asked him.

But Carlos himself didn't know. As much as he didn't want to go back to their unsafe house, there wasn't anywhere else. Getting another house was too high profile; the easiest option had to be tightening security.

Two rows of gates, higher fences, security cameras at every turn. Carlos would do anything to keep his wife safe. Retina scans at every entrance and doors to thick to be penetrated by bullets.

Carlos grabbed the carton of cigarettes from his pocket. He took one out and placed it between his lips, offering the carton to Oscar. But Oscar shook his head, refusing. "Suit yourself," Carlos muttered and stood up.

He kept the cigarette between his lips, playing with his lighter as he walked through the cabin. He couldn't dare light it inside, not with his pregnant wife laying on the bed.

So, as he walked past her, Carlos pulled his cigarette from between his lips and kissed her on the forehead. She brushed her hair out of her face and left her to it, walking outside to smoke his cigarette.

Carlos had never imagined his life going this way. He hadn't imagined finding love through an arranged marriage. He hadn't imagined his father dying and having to run to the safe house. And, he hadn't imagined having to consider his child being born in said safe house.

Leaning against the wall of the safe house, Carlos held his lighter to the end of his cigarette and lit it. He shuddered as he drew in that first breath.

It wasn't often that Carlos smoked more than one cigarette in a single sitting. But today was different. Today he smoked two cigarettes. Before the second cigarette, Carlos sat on the floor, his back against the cabin.

His hands shook as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips.

There was a knock against the cabin wall. Carlos looked up and immediately stubbed out his cigarette. Sitting beside him, Y/N kept her nose covered by her sweater and leaned against him. "You okay?" She asked, her head on his shoulder.

Carlos nodded and kissed the top of her head. But Y/N kept looking at him, and Carlos realised their was no point in hiding anything from her. They were going through it together, after all.

"Just stressed, mi querida," he said, pulling his lighter from his pocket to play with.

She reached up and fixed his hair. "What's stressing you out?" She asked, letting out a little yawn.

Carlos let out a breath, holding the lighter open as the flame danced. He told her all of his stress, all of his worries. She held him as he spoke, listening to every single word.

When he was done, Carlos let out a shuddering breath. She stroked through his hair, fluffing it out. "No matter where our baby is born, I'll be happy. I know you'll get us somewhere safe in the end."

They sat out there for just a moment longer, leaning against each other. Carlos grabbed a gentle hold of her chin, turning her towards him. He pressed his lips against hers, eyes shutting as his tongue danced into her mouth.

She turned towards him, deepening everything. Her hands settled on his cheeks, her own eyes shut as she sucked on his tongue. "Ay dios mío," Carlos whispered against her lips. "I've missed you so much," He said, hands settling on her waist and he pushed her to the ground, his body over hers.

"Carlos, we can't," she whispered, her expression full of guilt as she gently pushed him away. "Oscar's inside."

Sitting back up, Carlos let his expression fall. "I need to get you back to the house," He said as he helped her to her feet. "I just want to ravage you."

She let out a giggle as Carlos wrapped her arms around her and walked her back into the safe house. His arm around her was strong, comforting as he took her back inside.

But, when they got inside, something was very, very wrong.

Oscar stood in the doorway to the kitchen, Carlos's gun in his hands. He held his fingers to his lips as Carlos pushed the front door shut.

"What on earth are you doing?" Y/N exclaimed.

But suddenly Carlos was behind her, his hand covering her mouth. "He's right, mi amor," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling. "There's movement on the treeline." Carlos looked towards Oscar. "Do you think you can distract them while I get her out of here?"

Oscar nodded his head. "Make sure you get her somewhere safe," he said.

Carlos held onto Y/N as he led her into the kitchen. He gave Oscar a nod and the Australian opened the door, pointing the gun towards the trees as he took off, shooting.

"OS-" Y/N cried as soon as she heard the shooting. But, before she could say anything else, Carlos had covered her mouth with his hand.

"Baby, please!" He hissed and gently pulled away. She swallowed the lump in her throat as Carlos pulled open the window in the kitchen. "I need you to run as fast as you can to the car."

"Where're we going?" She asked as Carlos helped her to climb out of the window.

"Just run," Carlos said and climbed through the window himself.

The two of them ran towards the car. Carlos tried his best to shield his wife's body as he ran. Moving while trying to press the button on the car keys were incredibly difficult, Carlos realised as he tried to unlock the car.

But they managed to get the doors open and, before they knew it, they were driving away. "What about Oscar?" Y/N cried as Carlos drove like he was on a race track.

"He'll be fine. He's been trained for stuff like this," Carlos answered as they drove through the woods, heading back to the main road.

Y/N let out a breath, holding her hand against her chest, listening to the thudding of her heart. Everything in the safe house had been peaceful. It wasn't an ideal home, but it was peaceful. It was the kind of place where she could see herself loving Carlos.

But now they were leaving. They were leaving and Y/N was suddenly afraid that the old, cruel Carlos would return.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asked, somewhat meekly. For just a moment she was sick of pretending to be stronger than she was, and she let herself feel vulnerable.

Carlos sucked in a breath, keeping his attention on the roads ahead. With the way he was driving, there was no way anybody would have been able to follow them.

"Verstappen and his son have managed to fortify their house," he said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "I'm going to get you there, and then I'm going to take care of things here," he said.

"You're gonna leave me?"

"You'll be in good hands," he said quickly.

She blinked, slowly. Blinking back tears. "I'm so fucking scared," she whispered, leaning her head against the window.

If it was possible, Carlos would have ditched the car as soon as he got to the airport. But it wasn't that easy. He parked as close as he could and held onto Y/N as they walked through the doors of the airport.

Carlos got them moving through the airport as quickly as he could. He bought them tickets on the next flight to the Netherlands and moved her through the airport as quickly as he could.

As soon as they were sat at the gate, Carlos made arrangements for the car to be picked up. He didn't tell Verstappen that they were coming, couldn't risk sending that message. He could have gotten somebody, one of Verstappens men to pick them up, but it wasn't worth the risk. Carlos was just going to have to rent one once they landed.

Carlos had never been on a commercial flight before. He couldn't help but fidget as he sat beside Y/N, full of anxiety. He felt naked and anxious now that he didn't know the apartment. Their lives were in a strangers hands.

***

Oscar ran through the trees, guns blazing (literally).

He was a damn good shot, doing what seemed to be shooting blindly but actually taking out two of the three assailants.

There was just one left. This one was much harder to spot and Oscar had to take a second to look around. He pressed his back against a tree, chest rapidly rising as he looked back towards the safe house.

If he could see Y/N and Carlos running towards the the car, so could the assailant. Oscar had to take him out now.

He kept his gun in front of him as he looked around the tree. Movement, any sign of movement and he would shoot. But then he heard the car start and the wheels screech as they managed to get away.

Good. Now Oscar would concentrate.

Oscar located the last assailant and took him out. Easily. It wasn't the first life he had taken and, in this line of work, it wouldn't be his last.

He stayed in the trees just a second more, trying to locate any more men with guns. When their didn't seem to be any, Oscar ran back to the cabin. He knew what he needed to do. Break Carlos's laptop and get the hell out of their.

Oscar threw open the door to the cabin with little regard. It wasn't like the Sainz family could use it as a safe house anymore. The door hit the wall it was attached to, splintering it.

He ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife.

It was a bit ridiculous when he thought about it, breaking a laptop with a knife. But Oscar didn't know what else to do. He plunged the knife into the laptop again and again, chipping away at the desk beneath it.

Oscar made sure the laptop was completely unusable before he took off, once again running through the woods, searching for sanctuary.

He had to find Alonso.

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries

[lit3rallyll0yd]

Hey I just wanted to say I love your writing so much it's just 😼😍 if Ykyk and feel free to ignore this request but if you want to could you do ninjago character is basically a rich aunt and grew up with the ninja go character (plus harumi up to you) sorry if I'm not that detailed

have a good day 😼🐮

ninjago x reader: them with a reader who is their rich aunt. ft. ninjas<3 (≧ᗜ≦)

characters: lloyd, kai & nya, jay, cole, and zane

synopsis: basically the reader is the ninjas rich aunts, who they haven't seen in a while.

a/n: tbh i was struggling to understand this request, nothing against you anon, im just bad at reading n understanding, lol. so we ended up with this idea<3

i would add harumi, however my poor fingers hurt so much😞

short, headcanon format, female reader

artist cr: min-play

☆ LLOYD.

. you are misako's sister. she knew the second lloyd was born you were going to spoil this kid like crazy.

. before he was even born you already bought him things. new sets of clothing, baby toys, even some baby food you might know if he'll even like.

. when lloyd was born you swore to protect him no matter what. that was until you found out from your sister he was the green ninja?

. the kid is now at least 11 and his own mother enrolls him in the Darkly School for Bad Boys?

. she told you she left him for a good reason, and it will all make sense in the future.

. you decided to take her word for it, and years passed. you haven't seen your sister nor your nephew since.

. large timeskip, lloyd has aged, he has found his true family in the ninja. sure he reconnected with his mother but he still doesnt trust her much...until he heard her side of this whole story.

. lloyd and her have gotten closer once more, and misako decided to bring you up.

. lloyd had no idea how to react. he barely remembers you, however you remember him. he kinda feels guilty.

. you squish his cheeks together when finally seeing him again, "Oh, look at you!! you've grown up so much~ i remember when you were just a little babyyy! i can see where you got the looks from~"

. it takes a while, just like how lloyd was with his mother, but he glad to have met you once again.

. he asks you both about his father, and you have alot to say about that man.

. even at his age, you still spoil him much to his mothers liking. but who listens to their siblings anyways?

☆ KAI & NYA

. you were ray's sister, and maya loved you. she the first to tell you she was pregnant with the two, and you. went. bananas.

. when both kai and nya were born, you fell in love with them immediately.

. while they were kids you would come visit them, kai was extra excited for your visits because you always had a present for the two.

. ray and Maya just enjoyed your company, although nya was really shy around you first.

. she was a mama's baby, qnd loved to be in her mother's arms so everytime you come over she's in her mama's arms, hiding her face in her chest.

. the more you visit, the more she starts to trust you. ray and maya were surprised when nya started to cry when you had to go home one evening

. seeing them again after many years was very emotional for you, not them, though.

. "im sorry, who are you?" kai asked, seeing a random lady hug his little sister.

. "silly, im your auntie. your father's sister, to be specific, i never did really like labels!"

. "our...huh?"

. it's mostly like the relationship misako and lloyd have, but just you and the smith siblings.

. nya tries to be as kind as possible toward you, kai of course as well, however you and nya seem to have more of a bond.

☆ COLE

. your lou's sister. you never had a passion for singing like your brother, but you were pretty successful in the arts department.

. you were a pretty famous artist, almost everyone in ninjago knows your name.

. your art is seen from lou's dining room, to the ninjagos art museum.

. lou was the one who told you lily, his wife was pregnant. you asked many questions, but the big question was the gender.

. when finding out, because lily wanted to know the gender before birth, you started buying anything "baby boy" related.

. blue. that's what you first think of when a baby boy is coming, right?

. timeskip, yahoo, cole is born and sadly you've had to move away for a business emergency.

. you had a feeling cole wouldn't remember who you were, he was only just born when you had to move.

. before his mothers passing, lily tried to best to keep memory of you around the house, hopefully so little cole could remember some fragments of you.

. he..he didn't, lmao.

. you visit lou one day, and surprisingly, his son, cole, who is now a teenager, also seems to be visiting his father with you, who assumed his friends.

. you pinch his cheeks after hugging him and kissing him all over. cole was beyond uncomfortable and confused.

. "y/n, please, take it easy-"

. "you try not seeing your nephew for years and suddenly seeing him randomly out of no where, lou!"

. "...i...i did, however in this case he is my son."

. you, lou, and cole have had some time to discuss about who you are and coles eyes lit up.

. "you were my mother's best friend? could you maybe, tell me more about her?"

. you smiled, "let's start off with, your mother was the kindest and sweetest soul in the world."

☆ JAY

. let's make this simple. your edna's long time best friend. so you pretty much the same age as her.

. obviously ed and edna are jay's adopted parents, you found out by visiting the junkyard one day and seeing...baby...in Edna's arms.

. she was feeding him a bottle. he was so small, he hits perfectly in your sister's arms.

. "now i may be old, but i ain't stupid, sista'. why didn't you tell me you adopted?"

. edna laughed, "oh dear, no, this little one showed up on our doorstep last night. we couldn't just leave the poor thing there, we had to take him in. and we don't have the guts to let him go just yet so...ed is figuring out the adoption papers..."

. ever since that day, you have been coming around more often to help the elders take care of jay.

. jay was homeschooled, of course when he was old enough; ed taught him the abc's and 123's.

. you would help of course. you would spoil this boy to your full extent.

. he wanted this toy? it's his. wants mcdonalds? one happy meal please. is upset? two tickets to the mega monster amusement park!

. of course, you had a life of your own. you've barely had time to see ed, edna and jay anymore because of your work.

. so one day, ed and edna mailed you a letter, saying they will visit iay and invited you to come. maybe jay will remember you?

. timeskip to them pulling up to the bounty and jay's confused face.

. "ma, who is that?" jay asked looking at you with a confused look.

. yall had the talk about who you are and jay felt terrible for not remembering you. he always assumed his "dad" was taking him to all the amusement parks.

. he tried to catch up with you, wanting to know more of your life and your work placement.

. little does he know, ed and edna have been telling you mall the embarrassing stories he's gone through as a kid; your favorite being his kissing pillow?

. didn't you buy him that pillow?

☆ ZANE

. your dr. juliens younger sister.

. you were astonished at his latest "creation", zane. you were there when zane came fully online, and was "alive".

. he was almost like a human, he had human emotions of course he didn't know that yet. he was basically just born.

. upon hearing of your brothers death, you were deeply affected. you left ninjago for a little while, forgetting the world but never forgetting zane.

. you regret leaving him alone. but you weren't in the condition to be taking care if someone. you have to take care of yourself first.

. timeskip, years passed and you have received a letter from an old friend, inviting you to come back to ninjago and visit you.

. he mentioned zane, so you of course agreed.

. the address lead you to a monestary. you were a bit confused buy you knocked on the large doors.

. moments later, the doors open wide to revel a figure dressed in a white ninja gi, who looked back at you twice as confused as you.

. "good morning, stranger. what brings you to the monestary?" he asked and you felt your heart drop.

. "zane?"

. he tilt his head to the side, "yes...that is my name...how do you know my name?"

. other male voice cuts you off, "yo, zane- who's there?"

. eventually, your old friend who invited you here in the first place appeared beside zane and with a smile invited inside their home.

. insert the other three boys, jay, cole, and kai confused and asking each other questions while zane, master wu, and you spoke in a separate room.

. "so...your my father sister?"

. you smiled and nodded, "i never thought i would see you again!" you hugged the boy who froze at your touch, but politely hugged you back.

. you are family after all.

. you feel so bad for leaving zane all alone, possibly confused and lost until he found sensei wu and the other ninja, but that doesn't stol you from spoiling the heck out of the four boys.

. "but...y/n, i have already forgiven you. we do not need your-"

. jay covered zane's mouth, laughing sheepishly as kai spoke up, holding a bunch of video games you have given to them..

. "oh nono- please, we are more then happy to receive these gifts. your more then kind."

. cole nods in agreement.

. you smile and leave their gaming room, only to have master wu smack each of the boys, beside zane, on the heads

☆ i think i went a bit overbored 😭