#i swear i meant for this to be sweeter…..

[seresinhangmanjake]

He Will Hope

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: Feyd is obsessed with his bride from the moment he sees her, but on their wedding night he finds out she might not feel the same. (Angst, but hopeful ending)

Warnings/Notes: Feyd POV, pre-smut and smutty-ish intentions (if that makes sense? idk, ignore me), instantly-in-love Feyd, unwanted marriage, baby(heir) talk, typos. Can absolutely be read alone, but also serves as something of a prequel to Do You Love? (same world, but big time skip), so I tried to kind of echo that with specific lines.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You’re so…beautiful. He didn’t expect a peace offering to be this perfect. Yes, he knew his bride would be a daughter of a Great House, but you are one of many sisters and Feyd did not imagine your father would send him the loveliest of his bunch. 

It’s a loveliness that has you sticking out like a sore thumb on Giedi Prime. Hair and makeup and wedding dress styled in the traditions of your home world glue all eyes to you as you walk down the aisle, and he likes that there is so much attention on you. It makes his inability to cease staring more acceptable. 

Harkonnens are not meant to be enthralled by their brides at first glance. Discouraged, even, from caring about their appearance at all. ‘Brides are meant for breeding,’ his uncle told him as a child, ‘It does not matter what they look like.’ But he was not told what to do or how to act in the event the bride makes his heart involuntarily skip a beat. 

Maybe if your heart was reacting in the same manner navigating this new feeling would be less intimidating, but the tears streaming down your cheeks suggest that's far from the case. You can barely look at him and he’s not sure you would be able to speak if it was required of you, but thankfully, verbal agreements are not part of marriage ceremonies on Giedi Prime. 

When he takes hold of your hand and slices your palm with his knife, you give no indication of pain. You are supposed to do the same to him but you seem nervous enough as it is, so he makes the three-inch long slash in his skin for you before pressing his palm against yours. The mixing of blood is a swearing of fidelity from husband to wife and wife to husband; a tradition and promise that wore down with time as concubines became more common. But he will not do that to you. You will be his one, his only, and if he can help it, he will be yours. 

He barely detects the words declaring you married. They're dull and bubbly in his ears as if he's sunk under the surface of his bath water because he's too focused on your mouth. Your plush lips are pink and plump and glistening, and he wants them. So he takes them before he's told to do so.

You taste different than the Harkonnen women he’s had. There is salt from tears, but something distinctly you seeps through. It's sweeter. A bit intoxicating. The kind of taste that collars and leashes the unruliest of men, and he wants more. Much more. But there are too many eyes, some of which are full of relief at the match finally solidified while others are prying and suspicious. If he keeps his lips on yours too long, questions will begin to form from certain witnesses—Does he like her? Does he want her? Can she be used? Can she control him?—and the answer will be plainly obvious.

When he breaks the kiss, your eyelashes flutter with the gentle opening of your eyes and he knows then that nothing—no convincing from advisors, no threats from his uncle, no hatred on your end—could ever have him willing to detach himself and use you for the sake of an heir only to discard you later. You are his wife now, you will be the Baroness upon his uncle’s death, and he will protect you from anyone who values you for the sole purpose of providing a child. 

—

He sees that your assigned servants have quickly learned to manage your hair and clothing. By the time they deliver you to him, the pins have been removed from the twist on your head, letting the strands hang loose to frame your face, and you’ve been unstitched from that heavy gown to be dressed in night clothes from your home. He provided you with a nightgown, so he wonders if wearing the thin dress was your choice or your parents' idea to make you undeniably enticing, but either way, it’s effective. 

What drapes over your body is nothing like the opaque blacks and straight lines of Harkonnen attire. It's intricate both in color and design; flowing fabric that shimmers when you make the slightest movements and, at the moment, does little to hide your shape and curves. 

As you stand in front of him, patiently awaiting instructions, he can only stare at what’s on display. Pebbled nipples, a plane of smooth skin down to your navel, your slit and the folds between your legs—he wants it all. All of you. Now. Here. Wherever he can have you. 

Rising from the chair where he’d been waiting, he dissolves the space between you. His arm snakes around your waist. His hand slides across your cheek to the back of your head. Lips slam into yours, chests meeting despite that sliver of fabric, and he tastes that taste again, instinctually feeling a need to lift his chin, bare his neck, and let you tighten that collar.

It takes you a few seconds but when your lips start to move, he kisses you harder, pulls you closer, weaves his fingers through your hair and lightly tugs. He guides you backward toward the bed, skin warming at the image of sliding the nightgown down your body. That warmth fans into pure fire and he can’t stop kissing you, can’t stop taking from you, collecting what little you’re willing to give him. Two of his fingers tuck themselves under one strap of the nightgown and begin to slip it down your shoulder. 

But then he stops. 

He stops because your lips freeze.

He stops because you're starting to shake under his fingertips.

He pulls back to look at you and it’s undeniable, so terribly undeniable, and he feels a bit ill. “You don’t want this,” he states. 

You don’t answer; you just stare up at him with those doe eyes that he can now see are full of fear, and his heart squeezes. His gut tightens. He suddenly has the urge to throw things, break things, watch things shatter to pieces because you don’t want him. His own wife doesn’t want his touch and he does not like this—not at all—but you’re scared, and he doesn’t like that even more. 

Sighing, he resets the strap on your shoulder, drops his hands from your body, and steps away. 

“I'll leave you alone,” he says. But as he passes by you, you grab onto his wrist. 

“We have to,” you rush out. “They'll know if we don't.”

He shakes his head. “They won't know anything that happens between us unless I allow it,” he tells you.

“B–But they expect an heir.”

“Yes. And eventually, we will have to produce one. That does not mean we have to share a bed tonight if that is not what you want, and it's clear that is not what you want,” he says a little too harshly. He isn’t trying to be snippy, none of this is your fault, but it hurts, and not in the way he enjoys.

You suck in a sharp breath as if preparing to argue, but then something shifts in your eyes. Instead, you say, “Where will you go?”

“The adjoining room,” he answers, nudging his head to the door on the opposite wall: the room for the concubines that he will never take. You turn to get a look.

“Oh,” you swallow. “O-Ok.” 

He grants himself a few more moments to study you, to soak in your soft and delicate features and the swollen lips he cannot have before he walks away, leaving you behind for the bed he had no intention of ever sleeping in. 

When he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder to get one last look. You’re facing away from him, sitting on the mattress with your head low, your back arched forward and arms wrapped around your middle. You look small like that, slowly huddling into a ball, and he’d do anything to make it stop. Because you are his. His wife. His na-Baroness. He’s well aware he’ll fall for you in no time—it’s already begun—and he wants you to be happy with him. 

But you're not. And that already threatens the predictability of your future together. These foreign feelings he has for you are not guaranteed to be requited; something he isn't sure how to accept, and yet he may not have a choice. He cannot force your affection. He cannot demand you grow to love him. All he can do is try and hope that one day, he will win you over.

So that is what he does.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t

[newtkive]

confectionary clash - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x afab!reader (established relationship)

summary: carmy's girl is the human embodiment of a sweetheart. that is, unless it's that time of the month and richie provokes her.

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, fighting, weaponized incompetence from richie but we still love him.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but turned into 3k words. so it's written kinda like a drabble?? (hence the lowercase i can't be arsed to change) but just... long. idk hopefully its entertaining. also, i don't mean to demonize richie, he's my favorite character i think,, i just love writing him as problematic lmao cuz he's so funny. anyways, enjoy!

as carmy’s confidant and girlfriend, you were always the voice of reason. with just a string of words, you’d be calming him down after a hectic work day, giving him a fresh perspective on his work dilemmas since you were outside of the restaurant circle. in the time he’s known you, he hadn’t seen you do as much as barely raise your voice. maybe the occasional snap, but you always follow it up with swift apologies and big watery eyes.

that is, unless you’re in pain. specifically cramps. the sight of you 180ing from a sweet girl with a bright smile and even sweeter words, to an evil sorceress with spells rolling off your tongue, inflicting curses onto anyone who irritates you is jarring. a bit dramatic, sure, but that’s what you were during that time of the month—dramatic.

carmy tries best to dote on you. you would never ask him to go out of his way for something, unless it’s grabbing a heating pad or water, but carmy wants you to. it takes prying to hear your desires and cravings after asking a million times, and you begrudgingly give in with no expectations. nevertheless, you end up with exactly what you asked for, or something close to it, and you’re endlessly grateful.

on days when you stop into the restaurant when you’re feeling down, carmy enacts this same routine. if it’s food, he’ll cook it for you; desserts, he’ll grab any extras marcus has (or marcus happily makes it from scratch if they're not busy, claiming he needs the practice). if you want snacks, he sends his right hand man richie out to grab them despite your protests.

richie does it often whenever you stop into the store, and he acts like it’s a chore sometimes, but everyone has a hunch that he really loves it. come on, twenty dollars to get a few items for you and pocket the rest for himself? plus a break from work? done deal.

richie wouldn’t admit it, but he liked taking care of you too. you were always a sweetheart to him, but it wasn’t in his personality to be as sincere as you, so this was a little act of service to show his love. besides, the year and a half you’ve known him has definitely earned you the title of a friend, and you’d agree.

now, you don’t ever want to seem ungrateful, but when you ask for a specific treat, you get disappointed when you don’t really get it. maybe it’s the fluctuating mood talking, but you always end up snapping at richie due to his poor choices. if you ask for one thing, he’ll get you the next, and you even suspect he does it on purpose sometimes. pulling reactions from people is his specialty.

it’s not like you’re a complete bitch about it, because he took his time out to go get you something, but richie has a problem with weaponized competence even with his new and improved attitude. you know he can get you the jolly ranchers you suggested, but he chooses to grab goldfish because it’s closer to checkout. it was annoying, but you never really brought it up to carmy. it's not like you needed to, it wasn't a huge deal. you figured richie could use the little break, and you don’t hate the snacks he brings.

except on days like this.

you were at the restaurant on a slow day, dragged yourself out of bed despite your cramps just to see your little grumpy boyfriend and hide in his office. even as you entered the establishment through the back you glared at richie (who sweetly waved) in passing, side eyeing a few of the newbies who ran in front of you despite their apologies. none of your usual bright smiles and cheery greetings. the bee line straight to the office was a clear enough explanation for how you were feeling.

upon entering, carmy looked up in a panic, which quickly melted into a soft smile at the sight of his girlfriend. “hey, baby.” he cooed softly, immediately scooting back from his desk to reach out to grasp at your waist. you let him, but pushed down the irritation, not favoring touch at the moment. however, his rough hands sliding a little under your shirt to grasp at the flesh of your hips calmed you down, earning a small quirk of the lips from you.

“whatcha doin’ here, love?” he asks, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss softly, still looking up at you.

you shrug, squeezing his hand, face a bit stoic. you’d been like this for a couple of days so he wasn’t surprised by your lack of friendliness. knowing you this long, carmy became accustomed to your monthly mood swings, and he felt privileged that you didn’t feel the need to put up an act for him.

“missed you.” you finally sighed, scooting closer so you stood between his knees. palms found both sides of carmy’s face and tilted it upwards a bit so you could study his appearance. stressed and tired. however, he seemed to glow at the mere admission of you missing him. it took a few seconds for his brain to rewire, looking up at you like you created the cosmos. the only reason you heard his soft, shy, ‘missed you too’ was because of the stagnant silence.

“hungry?” carmy asked, beaming from the attention. you shrugged again, allowing him to tighten his grip on your sides and tug you onto his lap. whining a bit in protest, you reposition yourself, legs falling over his lap and arms around his neck. your faces were closer now, and carmy looked at your sad eyes with a little pang in his chest. brows furrowing, he tilted his head and snuck a hand under your chin. long, tattooed fingers tickled at your chin, and before you knew it you were giggling and grinning while batting his hand away.

“cmon, i know you must want somethin’.” your grin was infectious and laced in his soft words. you hummed, already cheered up, and tapped a finger against your chin to make a thinking face. carmy chuckled, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and patiently waited.

a thought crossed your mind and you met gazes again. “i might go grab some little debbie snacks from around the corner.” you decided and nodded to yourself as if solidifying your decision.

as you started sitting up more, carmy’s grip tightened on your waist. “ah, ah, no. stay here.” he protested. soon enough he was calling out ‘cousin!’ and richie came bounding over, opening the office door.

richie’s face used to contort in disgust at any visual sign of affection exchanged between you and carmy, but he was used to it now. “what’s up, cousin?” he asked, almost seeming out of breath, eyes flickering between the both of you.

a short exchange between the two occurred: carmy asking richie to run to the corner store, handing richie a twenty, and richie asking you precisely what you wanted. you made it simple and easy, something he could remember: oreos and ho-hos, a midwestern's guilty pleasure.

“ight, cap’n, i’ll be back.” richie says, saluting you two before heading out. both you and carmy exchanged an amused smirk, knowing the only reason richie went was to get himself some cigarettes and hot fries he would scarf down on the walk back.

__

in the twenty minutes richie was gone, the kitchen had gone to shit. the newbies had been running the wrong food to tables, online orders were filling the tablet nonstop due to a discount glitch, and carmy was close to losing it. sitting in the office, now alone with the muffled sound of your boyfriend yelling, you were more grumpy than before. arms crossed, you snapped your head to the side once the door creaked open. in walked richie with a plastic bag, inside of it holding your hope for a better day.

"what took you so long?" you frowned up at him, but sat up straighter in anticipation. you eyes almost shone as you looked at corner store logo on the bag.

"went the long way." he mumbled, digging in the plasic. the skeptical look on your face didn't leave as he pulled out an item and set it on the table. your frown deepened further as you noticed there was nothing at all you asked for, only met with a crushed sleeve of crackers.

“where are the oreos?” you sighed out, lips pursed in a bit of a pout.

“didn’t find any, so i got you some peanut butter crackers.” he mumbled, digging around the bag again, as if he didn’t just break your heart. if it was anyone else you'd believe them, but with richie you figured he just got bored of looking.

your jaw fell slack and you gaped like a fish for a moment, waiting for him to pull out more treats from his bag. but that time didn’t come, as he fished a pack of cigarettes out instead. “and the ho-ho’s?” your voice was hopeful.

richie perked up at that, putting the cigarettes down next to the crackers. the next second he presented you with a smushed mountain of brown and white concealed in a plastic wrapper sitting atop the palm of his hand. eyes flicking between the disappointment before you and his face, you frowned in disbelief.

richie only managed to emote as much as a ‘yikes’ face before placing it on the desk. “got smushed in transit, but tastes the same!” he gave his best attempt at a smile. your brows grew taut together and anger bubbled up in your chest. you were sure your face was quickly turning red.

“carmy gave you twenty dollars, and you come back with this?!” you hiss out, daring to look at the dry crackers and smushed up dream of a ho-ho. the sight only made you become angrier. this was something a senile old person would give you, not a competent 40-something-year-old man. his lack of care was clear, and you were boiling.

richie just scoffed—he had the nerve to scoff.

“no, not just that! i got a sprite and a few pack of cigs for myself and the guy.” he waved around one of them to prove his point. if you thought you were mad before, you reached a new level of anger. usually, you’d deal with the disappointment and thank richie for even going—aside from a smart alec remark.

however, the demon conducting your period for this month did not make your rational decisions seem clear nor enticing. as you shot up from carmy’s chair, you only knew you wanted to make richie as upset as you were in this moment.

with one finger poking his chest, you began raising your voice. as soon as you started talking, richie's eyes turned wide as saucers, exactly like a deer in headlights. a string of curses snuck into your tirade, between phrases such as “you always fucking do this richie!” and “are you fuckin’ dumb?! did you get dropped on your head?!”. you only figured he didn't fire back right away because he was so stunned.

outside of the office, the kitchen was calmer now. things were finally falling into order but still required carmy’s supervision until the sudden rush ended. the only disturbance was you. now, it was your voice yelling behind closed doors and not carmy’s.

the chef—in the middle of helping sydney plate a dish—just about gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around to look at the barely cracked door of the office. there was the telltale muffled yelling, but what shocked him was it was clearly you yelling.

turning back around, carmy gawked at sydney who silently shared the same look of surprise. it was only until they heard richie start yelling back that sydney silently pushed him toward the door. it didn’t take more than a second for carmy to snap out of his surprise and march over to the office.

throwing the hand towel he was using over his shoulder, he yanked the heavy door open before all but body slamming his way into the room and slamming the door closed. the yelling was suddenly clear, as if carmy was being pulled out from underwater.

“YOU GET ME WHAT I ASKED YOU, OR GET ME NOTHING AT ALL!”

“THEN YOU’D BITCH ABOUT THAT TOO—“

“OR NOTHING AT ALL!”

“hey, hey, HEY!” the two of you were too busy at each others throats to even hear carmy enter, until his voice brought you both to a halt, heads turning towards him.

carmy’s eyes were immediately glued to you, not paying the least bit of attention to richie. your arms were stiff as boards to your sides, fists and jaw clenched, brows taut, and race beet red. the man had never seen you look like this before, and his instinct to comfort you took over. turning to richie with a look that could kill, carmy finally spoke. “what did you do?”

“what did i do?! except take precious time to get your girl shit she didn’t even want?!”

an offended gasp left your mouth, and you retorted instantly. “oh please! because a crushed up sleeve of crackers and a mountain of mushed up cake is just what i asked for!”

“you’re ungrateful.” richie pointed a finger at you now. carmy launched forward and slapped it down. he knew richie would never hurt you, and you knew it too, as you just rolled your eyes in response, but carmy’s instinct’s took over. richie didn’t even look phased, just irritated. carmy stood in front of you and forcefully turned richie around by his shoulders to send him to the door. if carmy didn't have half of a sane mind, he would’ve kicked richie's bottom with his shoe for good measure.

“go take a break chef! or do whatever the fuck, i don’t care.” carmy shouted after richie, and the man left with a slam of the door.

you simply watched the scene unfold with arms crossed and that same deep set frown. carmy turned around to face you as the air settled, a hand running through his hair. blue eyes raked over your tense form and carmy decided he would give you a little space to calm down. however, the second he saw your bottom lip wobbling and eyes grow watery he threw that thought to the wind

“hey, no, no, don’t cry.” carmy extended his arms and collected you into them. the tense posture you held relaxed into his slouched form as he held you close; one hand in your hair, and the other rubbing circles on your back as you sniffled.

a pit of guilt burned in your stomach and spurred you into attempting to bury yourself into carmy. blue straps of his apron rubbed against your cheek as you shuffled impossibly closer. usually, carmy would love this, but right now he'd do anything to not see you so out of it. shushing you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

there were a few beats of you hiding away before you decided to pull back a bit to face him again—and boy did you look pitiful.

the same cheeks previously bright with anger were now flush with embarrassment and stained with tears. a tattooed hand found itself sitting on your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eye to collect a fallen tear. at the touch, your eyes fluttered closed, and carmy’s heart broke at the sight.

“you gonna tell me what happened?” your boyfriend asked, trying not to make you feel even more guilty. his full attention was on you. exhaling slowly, your eyes fluttered back open and were met with those bright blue ones that always calmed you down.

“i dunno, i just-“ you shook your head and carmy waited patiently, “it wasn’t even a big deal, but richie just really set me off for some reason.”

“yeah, may as well join the club.” carmen’s words were light, not at all sarcastic, but aiming to ease you and bring out a smile. it worked, your lips turning upwards and carmy mimicking the half smile. he looked down at you with such love, head tilted to follow every time yours moved, and thumb caressing your cheek as he took in every expression.

your smile finally faltered as you glanced back at the office desk. “i feel so awful. he went out and got me stuff and i just yelled at him.” you sputter out.

carmy followed your gaze over his shoulder to finally see what started all of this. at the sight of the crackers and ball of what looked like mush, carmy scoffs in both disbelief and amusement, because of course richie would bring you that. turning back towards you, the chef finally gets it.

“baby, if someone brought me that shit while my insides were shedding i’d kill them.” he chuckled.

“really?” you asked hopefully, smile forming again.

“yes, really. even if i wasn’t goin’ through that i’d actually kick his ass.” carmy mirrored your smile.

nodding, you let yourself chuckle along with him. strong arms found you again and you were wrapped in a tight hug, allowing his squeezes to take away some guilt you were feeling. a moment passed and you knew carmy had to get back to work. with a sigh, you pulled back.

it was your turn to reach up and cup his cheek. guiding his face close, you met him halfway and pressed your lips to his in a kiss. lips moving against his, your noses brushed, and after a moment you let the kiss dissipate; lips slowly falling away from where they were molded together. one last peck was placed on carmy’s lips, as if saying, ‘thank you for being so attentive’. that earned an appreciate hum.

you both beamed, faces still close as you came back down to earth. “you gotta get back to work, and i gotta apologize.” you murmured and carmy nodded obediently.

with apprehension, carmy let you go, arms floating in the air for half a second as he walked backwards towards the door. “don’t go easy on him, though. richie lives for a fight. that was probably his anger management for the day.” carmy smirked, grasping the doorknob.

you just shook your head, eyes narrowed teasingly. before he turned to leave, you called out to him. “thank you, carmy.”

the man just gave you a confused look, chuckling. “don’t thank me, you're my girl.” with that he was back to work and you were left to your own devices. with one more glance at the monstrosity on the office desk, you left the room and went on a search for richie.

thirty minutes later, carmy was due for a smoke break and approached the back door. he slowed his tracks, lighter and cigarette in hand as he cracked the door and heard giggling. the sight before him was drastically different than before: you and richie sitting on a ledge next to each other, giggling and bumping shoulders. carmy breathed out a laugh at the sight and fully walked out. this caught both of your attention, grinning ear to ear as you clearly made up.

“hey, cousin!” richie grinned, and you both waved. figures.

[cute-sucker]

can we see pogue!rafe telling reader one day they're gonna make it and be much more comfortable and then she can have everything she wants IM SORRY pogue rafe makes me angsty

note: this is pup and pogue!rafe all the way. inspiration from pogue!rafe goes to @.princessbrunette

you're very low maintance overall, wearing dirty scuffed shorts, and a wife beater that you stole from rafe. sometimes rafe has to grab you to tell you how dirty you look, smelling of grass with marks of dirt on your jorts.

he gets more annoyed when you continue to wear his clothes. a white unbuttoned shirt with a cropped tee, and while rafe will raise an eyebrow then and then again telling you that you're gonna get cold, you can see the feigned annoyance that flickers in his eyes time and time again. but he doesn't get too annoyed with you, somehow kinder, and sweeter with you than anyone he knew.

sometimes people were surprised, the way that he would cower for you. one time you had come home with a bruised hip after ducking to get a softball for a bunch of ten-year-olds, and came home wobbling for him to soak you a bath, chastening you to be careful. if you told anyone how soft he was for you, they would laugh, swearing that you were lying.

sometimes you had to get rafe to stop doting on you in front of his friends, rugged workers who would raise an eyebrow every single time they saw rafe kneel to tie your shoelaces.

"every goddamn time pup," he muttered lowly, "you're going to trip and i'm gonna have to kiss your boo boos? huh? answer me." rafe whispered crudely, while licking his lips as you flushed trying to look anywhere but his co-workers.

(you hated it so much that later on you were shoving your tongue down his throat telling him how much you loved him)

life was good. life was sweet, even if you couldn't get the nicest thing that there was in town, or that sometimes you had to settle for those cheap restaurants, or even if you had to dig out the nastiest rench out of the toilet after it had dropped. (okay, the last one was just a fun adventure rafe had told you not to do)

but there's something about that dress in the window. that stares back at you, and you can't help but feel this aching in your heart. it's this feeling that you can't escape when you walk past it every single day. the little ruffles, and the sheer beauty of the dress. sometimes you bite your tongue before walking past it, willing yourself to stop yourself.

when people told you a dress was meant for you, you had laughed toying with your jeans, wistfully nodding your head. the worst thing about it was the price tag.

one time you had willed yourself to enter in there, cold hands in your pants, as you skimmed past the other clothing to cut to the dress. just turning it over, you felt as if someone punched you in the stomach. 200 dollars? goddamn it, and then you quickly walked out, forgetting to say goodbye.

when you reached home, you pushed the door open in your shitty apartment, quickly going to get a strawberry soda. you ignored the raised eyebrow that rafe gave you, and before you knew it you were sniffling and running into the bedroom.

"uh—shit, hey, what's wrong?" his muffled voice rings clear into your head, "pup. can't cut me out like that. i thought we worked on that. managing your emotions and n’shit." there's a tone of concern in his voice, and you know he's stopping himself from barging in into the small room.

that was the first thing the two of you worked on. due to how small the place was, and given how much space both of you needed, you had rules to knock if the other went into a room, angry. rafe had started it, sitting you down telling you that sometimes he needed to be alone.

you bite your lip, folding yourself into a ball, as you mewl a "you can come in."

rafe entered the room with a sigh, folding his hands seeing you scrawled on the wooden floor. you bat your eyes, wispy eyelashes wet from crying, and you can't help yourself but reach out for him. he sits next to you, nudging you to scoot closer. you do, pressing your face against the folds of his button-up, smelling in the scent of peppermint and dirt.  

"you wanna tell me what that was about?"

you sober up, as he sits down next to you. you push your face closer to his chest as you shake your head. you couldn't dare tell him why you were feeling so horrible. you couldn't tell him you felt horrible because you couldn't have some stupid dress. money issues were something that rafe was used to, and for you to use it against him would be inhuman. no, you had what was the most important—rafe.

"so you're—you're gonna sulk?" he drawls, voice cruelly sweet, "c'mon kid, you can't just leave me hanging here. my sweet girl can't be crying."

you hiccupped, rubbing your eyes as you detached yourself from him, "no, i really can't tell you."  

now he was on alert, eyes sharp as he looked you over. you were never the one to cry and not tell him what was going on. make matters worse you would mope for weeks over the smallest thing. be it an animal documentary, or a story of a baby dying before meeting their mother. last week you had sobbed over the death of a ladybug.

"hey? hey!" rafe shook his head as he leaned closer to you to wipe away your tear, "did someone say something to you? just give me a name. i'll take care of you, you know i will."

this made you cry even harder, and you watched rafe look completely confused, as he tries to console you, you watched him bite the inside of his cheek, rubbing his hands against his sides. he looks completely helpless, and out of his element.

"it's about a dress," you whisper out, unsure as you look up at him, watching his lips twitch into a jeering smile.

"shit kid. all this-" rafe waved his hands around, a condencing tone edging in his voice, "all of this is about a dress? what's it made out of of—and uh, what the hell happened?"

somehow you can't help but laugh at his increditious tone, and realise how stupid it was of you not to tell him in the first place. he's your boyfriend, practically your best friend and everything to you.

you sniffled, "theres this dress that i see on my way to work, and it's so pretty, and i wish it was mine. every single time i see it, i feel like i'm betraying you."

rafe looked confused, running a hand through his hair "how would you be betraying me? 'just a dress."  

now you feel like crying even more, snot running down your face as he grabs your face to wipe it away, "no, rafe! not the dress. it's—" you let out a heavy sigh, "it's not the dress. it's the concept."

he looked amused, rubbing your back, "and that concept is?"

"that i'm not happy with you, and that i'm so greedy because i want a stupid dress, and that you deserve better, and that i'm just in it for the money!" you burst out, wailing at this point crumbling into rafe's arms. "i'm a bad person, rafe! i'm a bad person-"

and he says nothing. instead he gathers you in his arms, gently rubbing your head, as you whimpered softly. he's whispering something softly to you, as you try to burrow yourself closer to him.

"kid?"

"yea?"

"you're not a bad person for wanting something nice and new. especially if it's something that matters to you, uh, you gotta let yourself feel like that sometimes," he whispered out awkwardly, but when you look up at him you see the way that his eyes crinkled earnestly. he really cares about you, really cares about you.

"hell," he let out a laugh, "sometimes i feel like that. sometimes i want what those kooks have. those private jets, and houses and golf, and that doesn't make me a bad person," and then he gives you a soft smile before sobering up.

"what it means is that we gotta work harder for it," rafe mutters, pulling you closer, "but you and me?"

you nod waiting for him to say something.

"you and me are in for it. big time. and if it's some fancy dress you want, shit, i'm going to get you that dress, but you gotta wait," he coughed.

"i know this looks bad," he said, nudging at the apartment around the two of you, "but it's going to get better."

then he rests your head on his shoulders, and you feel more grateful than you ever.  

[cinnamonroll-anon]

LMK Wukong x Reader who is wearing peach-scented perfume and peach-flavored lip balm??? 🍑🍑🍑

Sun Wukong x Reader: Sweetest Temptations

A/n: Literally loved this idea anon! I hope this wasn't too short!

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive, Gender Neutral Reader

Sun Wukong was a very affectionate partner, he adored cuddling with you, holding your hand and of course getting spoiled by your kisses. Being his partner meant getting to know most of his antics and favorite things, the thing that stood out to you was his love for peaches. You could be running a quick snack run with him and you swear he always chooses something peach flavored, drinks, chips, candy etc. Heck one of his nicknames for you was Peaches!

Making this observation, you had decided to purchase a peach scented perfume and peach lip balm, just trying to see how he'd react. Now Wukong was wholeheartedly in love with you, he was enamored by your scent, your smile, your laugh and just about everything about you. Except for one day he noticed the change in your scent. At first he brushed it off, you were always so sweet of course you'd smell sweeter, but as time went on that smell wouldn't go away. It was becoming overwhelming, too intoxicating and unbearable for him, yet it was so familiar, the way it mixed with your natural scent was driving him mad.

You were currently over at his place, lazing around on his couch, just wanting to spend some time with him. He eventually walked up to where you were on the couch, he had this adorable pout on his lips as he glarred at you, like if he was inspecting a crime scene.

"Um, do you need something?" You questioned with a nervous smile, you were already backtracking if you had done something to upset him. He crossed his arms over his chest before he answered.

"Yes, I need answers. You changed something about you and I can't figure out what." You only raised a brow before patting the open space next to you on the couch.

"Then can you explain what it is while we cuddle? I didn't want to be lonely here with all this room." It didn't take long for him to give in and plop himself next to you, swiftly arranging himself against you. As he got closer he could feel that intoxicating scent practically drown his other senses as you held him close. He briefly moved around in your hold, letting his head rest between the nape of your neck. He took a deep breath, he could practically taste you, but still couldn't figure out that delicate sweetness he smelled on you.

"Damn Peaches, why do you smell so delicious?" He practically groaned out as he cuddled into your side, wrapping his tail around you, giving your waist a small squeeze.

"Oh? Did you finally notice? It's a peach scented perfume, I thought it would be nice to wear around. It's a comforting smell." That was it!? How had he not noticed before? He took another inhale and it was pure bliss. He didn't expect you go out of your way to do this for him, it couldn't have been a coincidence either, peaches were his favorite afterall.

"Aw, Peaches did you really do this for me? Why's that all of a sudden? Needed more of me?" He asked with a cheeky grin, practically looming over you. Your face felt hot with embarrassment as you chuckled softly.

"Maybe I did, but it took you a while to notice! I was just about to give up wearing it altogether." He laughed before leaning down and giving you a sweet kiss. Wait a minute. It felt- no, it tasted sweeter. As his lips parted from yours he quickly pressed them against you with more fervor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers tangle into his hair. His tongue swiped your bottom lip experimentally before it finally hit him, your lips also tasted like peaches.

"Peaches, were you also wearing that this whole time?" He asked between breaths as he gazed down at you. You only nodded with a cheeky smile. Oh lord, did he ever regret not kissing you sooner, no wonder your lips looked so plump and pretty. He quickly leaned down, sending a barrage of heated kisses against your lips, the ones he knows that take your breath away. The ones that make your legs weak and leave you yearning for more. Your soft lips against his, your delectable scent, it was all clouding his mind in a heavy haze. He just couldn't get enough of you and that sweet flavor. His favorite flavor. He abruptly stopped his attack of kisses to see your dazed expression, smirking in pride.

"You just had to be this tempting, huh Peaches? But tell me, can you handle the tempted?"

Lets say that after that day you were more than encouraged to wear your perfume and lip balm.

back

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Home from the hospital, Joel is over protective after you give birth.]

“Listen, sweetheart, you just had my baby and I don’t want you lifting a damn finger as long as I’m home. Understood?”

Fluff

It had been a week since you had given birth to your son Luke. You were now home in bed and felt exhaustion like you had never felt before. It was two in the morning when you heard him begin to cry, you sighed pushing yourself up when you suddenly felt Joel’s hand on your arm.

“Lay back down, honey. I got him”

“But Joel, you work at six in the morning-“

“And you need sleep, now lay back down” he proceeded to get up as you looked at him with concern.

“I can get him you know, you don’t have to keep getting up every time he cries” you lay back as Joel walked around your side of the bed and hovered over you.

“Listen, sweetheart, you just had my baby and I don’t want you lifting a damn finger as long as I’m home. Understood?” The baby cried again as you silently nodded. He kissed your forehead and proceeded to pick up Luke from his bassinet. You watched half asleep as he began to gently rock him calming him down.

“It’s alright, buddy, daddy’s got you” Joel turned to find you still awake.

“Look your mamas right there but she needs some sleep alright? Me and you are gonna go get you some milk and hang out on the couch so mama can sleep” he whispered in a voice that made you smile. Before you knew it you fell asleep peacefully.

Joel entered the room a little while later, gently laying Luke back in his bassinet. The sound of Joel getting into bed startled you making you quickly sit up before hearing Joel’s voice.

“Shhh, he’s ok, lay back down” he assured you as you felt his arm wrap around your waist and pull you back in bed against him.

“Did he drink all his milk?”

“Mhm”

“Did you change his diaper?” You turned flat on your back with your face to him.

“Mhm” you took a deep breath as he held you against him.

“Go to sleep woman” he spoke with his eyes closed.

“I’m sorry, I just…I never done this before…I’m so anxious,” his eyes instantly opened.

“Look at me” you looked at Luke in his bassinet.

“Look at me, darlin’” he gently turned your face to him.

“You’re doing just fine, you hear me? I’m here every step of the way with you alright?” You knew he meant every word he said. Silently you nodded and took another deep breath as you looked up at the ceiling.

“I couldn’t have chosen a better mother for my baby boy” he kissed your cheek.

“Now get some sleep, if he’s up again I got him.” He closed his eyes as you smiled to yourself.

A few hours later Joel was getting up for work, you opened your eyes to find him pulling a shirt over his head.

“I’ll make you some breakfast” you pushed yourself up making him turn to you.

“Oh no you won’t”

“Joel you need to eat something”

“I’m not hungry, besides Sarah beat you to it” he smirked leaning in to kiss you.

“You feel ok?” A look of concern in his brown eyes.

“Yes, I’m fine” you assured him yet you could still see the uncertainty in him.

“I swear” you caressed his face looking up at him. He silently nodded and kissed your hand.

“I’ll try to get out of work early” he stood up and looked back to see Luke sleeping peacefully. Joel was always protective of you but the moment he found out you were pregnant, his protective side reached a level you had never seen before. Joel would take Sarah to school in the morning and ask her to help you as soon as she got home which she gladly did. Joel not letting you lift a finger was nothing new, through out your pregnancy he never let you carry a thing, and even with his hands full he still made sure there was room on his arm for you to hold on to. It was sweet having an attentive man but even sweeter seeing him as a dad.

[binsxturn]

Title: “Sweat and Sweet Kisses”

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

fem!reader! x ateez! choi!san!

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Word Count: ~1.7k

♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝ ♡⃝

You were convinced that Choi San had endless energy.

From the moment you stepped into the gym, he was all smiles, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Meanwhile, you were already reconsidering why you agreed to this. Working out with your boyfriend sounded fun in theory, but in reality, it was just a reminder of how ridiculously fit he was.

“Come on, baby,” San encouraged, tossing you a towel after his last set of push-ups. “Just one more round of planks, and then I’ll reward you.”

You raised an eyebrow, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Reward me how?”

San grinned mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Despite your exhaustion, you mustered the strength to get down on the mat, determined to finish strong. San dropped into a plank beside you, watching you with an affectionate gaze.

“Keep your core tight, love,” he said, voice smooth but slightly breathless. “You got this.”

You groaned. “Easy for you to say. You probably planked in your sleep.”

San laughed, his whole body shaking slightly. “Maybe I do. You should check next time.”

Your arms started trembling, but before you could collapse, San suddenly shifted closer, resting his forehead lightly against yours. His warm breath fanned over your skin, making it hard to tell if your face was heating up from exertion or just from him.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured.

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, your arms finally gave out. You let out a small yelp as you fell forward—right into San’s chest.

“Oof—!” He caught you effortlessly, laughing as he wrapped his arms around you. “Guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

You groaned into his shoulder. “I swear, I’m never working out with you again.”

San tilted your chin up with a teasing smirk. “That’s a lie. You love spending time with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny it. Being with San, even if it meant enduring an intense workout, was always worth it.

His fingers brushed over your jaw, his playful expression softening. “You really did great today.”

Before you could protest, San leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. His lips were warm, slightly damp from sweat, but you didn’t care. The kiss was soft yet deep, making you forget all about your aching muscles.

When he pulled back, he gave you a breathless smile. “That’s your reward.”

You blinked, dazed. “Okay, maybe working out with you isn’t that bad.”

San chuckled, pulling you into another kiss, this time slower, sweeter.

“See?” he whispered against your lips. “Told you it was worth it.”

a/n: been going feral after this-

[sc0tters]

Agreeable | Trevor Zegras

summary: when the boys decide that you and trevor can't hate each other forever, you realise he may not be all that bad.

request: yes/no

trope: enemies to lovers

warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing, minimal hints to sexual acitivies at the end.

word count: 3.84k

authors note: okay hello! this was such a fun one to write and it was also a little different in comparison to the normal enemies to lovers prompts we end up writing. This is our second to last fic in the 500 celly, and I am so glad we changed this one over to this man because I am so much happier with this one.

Trevor found this to be a trip to his own version of hell. 

The lake house was meant to be peaceful and a moment to unwind with his best friends. But that whole idea was made so much more complicated when you always decided to show up. 

Jack met you at a bar in New Jersey, and as you both came in with fake IDs, there seemed to be something that you bonded over, and the friendship hadn’t looked back since. Before you both knew it, Jack got the title upgraded from friend to best friend to then roommate. 

The forward soon started bringing you along to the lake house during the summer. Which most people loved, you knew how to hold your own in both drinking and banter. And it did help that you also were surprisingly good at pool. 

Trevor, on the other hand, wanted to send you the quickest thing to get rid of you. He didn’t care if you had to catch a cab or even hitchhike to leave, he just wanted you gone. But it wasn’t always like this, in fact, the first summer you were there. Trevor actually thought you were kind of cute. 

You were sat on the hammock as Trevor flirted with you “you sure you don’t got a man?” He asked as you let out a laugh “trust me, the only person in my bed is me.” You scrunched your nose as he looked at you. 

Trevor leaned in as he brushed the hair out of your face “think we should change that no?” His voice was soft as he let his lips dance over yours. 

The kiss was soft but as you heard the clear sounds of the boys inside you were reminded of where you were “we shouldn’t Trev.” You breathed out making him scoff “not like I would even want you.” His words were a clear dig at you, trying to be some personal attack as he got up and left you alone on the hammock. 

Now Trevor wasn’t that childish, you rejecting him wasn’t the only reason for his newfound hatred of you. Sure it hurt his ego but there was more to that than just a simple I’m not interested in you.

That night the boys had thrown a party and invited all of their friends along from the area. As fun as the night was as well, you were starting to feel the effects of one too many vodka red bulls as you made your way back to your room. 

With Jack downstairs you knew you could just walk right in “what the fuck!” A girl screamed from your bed as she immediately dropped down to lay flat against your sheet in an attempt to cover herself. 

Your eyes were wide as you froze “Z get her out.” She added looking up at the boy where your eyes finally stopped “why are you fucking someone in my bed?” You scoffed trying to ignore the fact that you had definitely just seen his dick and that he was a lot bigger than you thought he’d be. 

Truth be told he didn’t know it was your bed, but now that he did it made the whole thing just a little bit sweeter “Cole got a girl in our one.” The way he said it made it sound as though you were the weird one for bringing it up “you gonna just stand there or you wanna join us?” Trevor smirked as he saw how your cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. 

Words struggled to get out of your mouth “fuck you!” You spat as you let the door shut with a slam as you opted to go downstairs instead of dealing with him in that moment. 

Jack somehow knew not to question you as you ended up sleeping top to toe with him that night. 

It seemed from that moment on, you were both destined to hate each other. The majority of it came during those two weeks at the lake but even the roadie to New York and New Jersey seemed to fall victim to it. 

Trevor bursted into the apartment Jack never did seem to lock the door “Hughesy you will not believe who I sa-” he cut himself off as he walked into the kitchen to see you stood in front of him. 

You had woken up a few minutes before and decided to leave the warmth of your bed, for a cup of coffee “since you’re so excited why don’t you share it for the group?” You sipped at your coffee as you smirked when his face dropped “Jack is in the shower.” You explained as you placed your cup on the counter. 

You knew your nipples were hard as your body was cold. Trevor’s eyes stared at the red fabric of your top that fully encapsulated the two stiff peaks “you excited to see me?” He teased as you crossed your arms, doing your best to cover them “perv.” You grumbled grabbing your coffee to go back to your room. 

Trevor laughed “c’mon ain’t you gonna make your guest a coffee?” He honestly didn’t even want one but when you sent him a glare he knew it was worth it asking “if you’re gonna walk into this apartment like that then you can get your own coffee.” You spoke in a duh tone as you walked past Jack who had just come out of his own room. 

He frowned seeing the irritated look on your face “did you really have to be a dick to her?” He groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose “ain’t my fault she is so easy to screw with.” Trevor shrugged as he got himself a cup of coffee. 

Things never got better for the two of you because you couldn’t even learn to put up with each other. Each time the two of you were in a room, you were bound to argue at least once “why does she have to come?” Trevor whined knowing that you were stood downstairs helping Jack with drinks “because she is Jack’s friend and most of us get on with her?” Cole answered with an obvious statement. 

Of course, everyone had to love you. So as Trevor huffed as he threw his head down onto his bed, “so you all like Jamie, and I don’t bring him along to the lake.” Honestly, if Trevor was given the chance he would have asked Jamie to come along, but that wasn’t the point in that moment. 

It made Cole laugh “when you are done with whatever this is would you like to come down?” Cole’s words reminded Trevor of his mom when he was having a tantrum as a child “yeah, yeah I will.” Trevor rolled his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. 

You were downstairs playing a broken game of catch with Alex as he attempted to throw a grape into your mouth “you do know that my eyes are not where my mouth is right?” You asked as another hit the bridge of your nose “it’s not my fault you’re just short.” Alex shot back as he stuck his tongue out as you. 

Trevor came down to see how another grape had this time hit your forehead “can you seriously not find a way to entertain yourself that doesn’t involve our snacks for the boat?” Trevor’s question was logical but the way his eyes stared at you made you irritated. 

He watched you clench your fists “I mean I could throw them at you and actually make it hurt too if you’d prefer.” He offered finally making scowl at him “I will shove this up your ass if you’re not careful.” You warned making Quinn finally place his hands on your shoulders. 

The older boy clicked his tongue “and on that note why don’t we get to the boat?” Quinn mumbled guiding you out of the door.

It was meant to be a space that Trevor could finally be in peace during, but now he had to be sat there watching you get a deeper tan in the new red bikini you had brought along for the trip “just play nice Z.” Cole warned seeing how the boy had looked at you. 

But this time it didn’t seem to be that he was mad or even in the slightest bit annoyed at how you threw your shirt into a chair before you ran up to Jack who helped you onto the boat “said that I am not the problem.” Trevor muttered as he followed out to the boat. 

You had been helping Jack set up the stuff for the waterskis when the Ducks player stopped by the side of the boat “you sure this is going to be enough for you?” You asked as you held up the life jacket “pretty sure I know how to swim.” Trevor shot back as you smirked watching him get onto the boat. 

A sigh left your lips “well you know with a mouth as big as yours you might drown.” You shrugged going back to what you were doing “you been looking at me y/n?” There was a teasing sense in his voice was he clearly wanted to taunt you. 

A warmth spread across your cheeks “no-I-” you were cut off by Jack “Y’know I’m pretty sure that I can find an old getting along T-shirt that my mom used to use on Quinn and I if you two want to fight again.” His warning was enough for both of you to send each other a glare. 

If this was an action movie playing out there would have been a split screen scene that only showed your eyes turning into sharp glares “I am not fighting.” You both spoke at the same time 

Cole looked over to Alex who sighed “if I didn’t know any better I could say they had a chance.” He mumbled knowing that their words were not going to match their actions “hey as long as we’re not bringing a body back to shore then we should take it as a win.” It was clear the older boy was laughing but his words almost manifested that scene. 

There were many times that everyone thought you and Trevor were about to throw each other off of the boat, so much so that, they genuinely wondered if they were going to have to be fishing someone out of the water. And the explosiveness of the afternoon meant that everyone assumed they were dreaming as the night actually managed to calm down.

The familiar crackle of burning wood echoed in your ears as you found yourself falling asleep as the boys voices became mere background noise “I will see you in the morning.” Luke squeezed your shoulder softly waking you up. 

Your eyes blinked as nobody else seemed to notice “is it past your bedtime grandma?” Trevor teased seeing you let out a yawn “ain’t my fault you’re boring me.” You grumbled sending him a glare. 

It made him laugh as he looked at you “we can talk about all the reasons you are going to die a-” with that you cut him off “on that note I’m going to bed.” You clapped your hands together as you saw Cole come out of the house “guys this fire is dying let’s do something in here!” He called out wanting to go back inside.

You ignored the conversation opting to follow Luke inside as you wanted to go to bed as the rest of the boys went to play pool “why are you looking at me?” Trevor asked as he sipped at his beer. 

Jack was clearly beyond irritated “because could you not just try to be nice to her for one week?” Jack felt as if he was asking a shark to walk on water “if she wasn’t such a pain then maybe I would have something nice to say to her.” Trevor shrugged as he looked down at his phone. 

The middle Hughes boy realised that he was going to have to do something to put this all to a stop. Sure you and Trevor did not have to like each other, but the least you could both do is put up with each other “I think I am going to go to bed too.” Jack announced chugging back the remainder of his beer as he finally got up. 

Cole and Alex both tried to send him protests “boys we have an early start after all.” He pointed out making the older boys go quiet. As Jack let the door shut behind him, he knew he was going to have to get to plotting if he was going to enact a plan before you left for the apartment again in five days.

After you spent your morning enjoying a lie-in as the boys went for a morning skate you got to do some of the mundane luxuries that the boys didn’t give you the time to enjoy. It wasn’t even tasks that you longed for but after a coffee in silence and a bubble bath, you finally felt as if you were ready for the day and whatever arguments that Trevor would now throw your way.

The boys were setting up for the afternoon as you walked onto the deck, Jack, Alex and Cole all seemed to have mischievous looks on their faces as they saw you “do I want to know?” You asked as you placed your hands on your hips making Jack jump away “we are just talking about possibly going for a skate tomorrow.” He was quick to send you a smile as you raised your eyebrows thinking that he was hiding something from you. 

It was clear that Jack could read your suspicion on your face as he rubbed the back of his neck “I was wondering if you could go get us some more chairs from the shed though?” The question made you nod as you placed your phone on the table in front of you “I’ll come with you.” Quinn was quick to offer as he figured you could use a hand. 

Jack raised his hand to stop his brother “you can’t!” His raised voice made you both look at him, confused “I just need to ask you a question before we start grilling.” Now, this was enough to fully distract Quinn as Jack was useless with a grill and Quinn wanted to eat edible food that night. You carried on down the grass as you didn’t mind grabbing them all yourself.

You walked into the shed wanting to find more chairs “god this place is a dump.” You let out a laugh as you ran your fingers along the dusty shelf. If you wanted to find a visual definition of organised chaos that needed a clean, it would have been this place. 

You made your way to the back of the wooden building, remembering that Jack thought Quinn was stupid for putting them in the back when they’re often used. 

Unbeknownst to you, with the further you went Trevor walked in “what are you doing in here?” He scoffed seeing you through the shelf “I came to get chairs.” You spoke in a duh tone. 

It made Trevor laugh “no Jack told me to get them.” He corrected you, as if you were the idiot for already being in there. Sounds of people walking outside made your eyes go wide “Jack!” You yelled seeing the door to the shed shut with a lock. 

Cole’s laugh could be heard from out there too “I’m sorry but you two have to talk!” Jack apologised as he looked into the window seeing a sorry look in your direction. 

Trevor hit at the door as he groaned “y’know that’s not gonna work right?” You remembered the one time when you and Luke got stuck in there when the door got jammed, a locked door you assumed would come with the same or even more difficulty “how do you know?” Trevor turned and sent you a glare. 

You sat on the floor as you had also seen that the boys also took out all of the chairs “you know the door opens towards us right?” With those words, it seemed that the boy accepted defeat. 

He sat on the opposite side of you as he sighed “so how is the boyfriend?” Trevor asked as he tried to make up some kind of conversation. 

The boy was never one to shy away from just his bad he thought your boyfriend was “broke up with him in December.” You confessed “yes you can laugh all you want about my taste, get it out now and I won’t even be mad.” You motioned to him to taunt you like he loved to do so. 

But Trevor instead frowned “thought you really liked him.” You had been with him for almost four years now so it was assumed you’d be with him for even longer “well it’s hard to like someone after you catch him in bed with the biggest pain in your ass.” You were surprised that Jack hadn’t told Trevor that your boyfriend was gone, the Hughes boy hated him too. 

Trevor placed his hand on his chest “I don’t remember sleeping with a guy.” The comment made you erupt into laughter “seriously, I think I should be hurt that I am not your number one.” He added which made you laugh even harder. 

He hadn’t been someone who ever did get to say that he got to make you laugh “I have to say that you sleeping with someone on my bed and just being irritating doesn’t make you all that bad compared to some people.” You nodded as you cringed, thinking back to that time. 

Trevor sighed as he shook his head “the look on your face when you walked in.” A smile formed on his face, remembering it like it was yesterday “I made Jack let me sleep in his bed for the rest of that trip really.” Your confession made him laugh.

The boy looked at you as he thought back to the earlier conversation “why are you still single?” His question made you furrow your eyebrows “hey if we are looking into my love life let’s look at yours too.” You knew he hadn’t had a girlfriend since the weekend you met him, four years ago. 

Trevor rolled his eyes “I have been busy with hockey, what’s your excuse?” You knew his words were bullshit, Jack had his fair share of partners whilst he was in the room across from you “I want someone who makes me feel like we are perfect for each other.” The confession made your cheeks turn red. 

The boy again let a laugh escape from his lips “I knew this was stupid.” You sighed getting up as you wanted to find another way out of there. 

God he knew he was an ass “think you’d have better luck shoving your head into one of those books of yours.” The words struggled through his giggles as his chest began to hurt “hey at least I know what I want!” You snapped, letting your hand hit the wall next to you. 

It made the boy raise his eyebrows in surprise “and I’m focusing on my career!” Trevor didn’t like how your voice got so much louder “thats bullshit and you know it!” You grumbled pointing your finger at him as he got up. 

He now towered over you “god there you go bitching again.” It seemed that a switch had been flipped as you were both back to arguing with each other “and to think I was genuinely caught up about you.” The words made you laugh as it suddenly dawned on you, just how stupid you had been. 

The words made the boy freeze, “no you weren’t.” Trevor shook his head, refusing to believe you “watching you fuck someone in my bed was actually a pretty good way to shut that one down fast.” You pushed your hair out of your face. 

He managed to make you so mad “I should have fucking hated you.” Your voice was cold as you sent him a glare.

His silence you met by turning back to the door as you wondered if there was a spare key on the shelf that Jack often left his copy of “you should.” Trevor nodded, sucking at his teeth “because I hate you.” The words made you scoff as you shook your head, ignoring him. 

But Trevor didn’t stop there as his hands formed fists “I hate you so damn much.” It was then enough for you to stop searching for that ring “look I might be stupid but I am most certainly not deaf, heard ya the first time.” You snapped wanting to turn around and hit him truthfully. 

His hand gripped at your arm, finally turning you around “I hate you so much because somethings you are all that I can think of.” Your mouth went dry as he walked closer to you, making your back push up against the shelf behind you “you’re lying.” You squeaked out letting your eyes scan his face. 

There was a level of hunger in his eyes as he let out this low growl, “you’re right.” He nodded, licking his lips “you consume my damn thoughts till there isn’t any space for anything else.” Trevor’s confession made your legs feel like they turned to jelly. 

You tried to use your strength to push him away, but Trevor counteracted it as he kissed you when his hands gripped your waist. The taste of your lipgloss was still the same on his tongue as the first time that he kissed you, “tell me you still think that I’m some pain in the ass.” His words taunted you as his lips ghosted over your neck. 

A breathy moan escaped from your lips as he forced his knee between your legs “c’mon, you think you can hurt my feelings, doll?” The hockey player sucked at your earlobe “god you are insufferable.” You scoffed making him smirk. 

Trevor tucked your hair behind your ear “there's, my sweet girl.” He mumbled, dropping his lips back down to kiss yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Trevor squeezed your ass, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth as you moaned. His cock grew hard as he picked you up, locking your legs around his waist so he could bring you away from the door. 

Unbeknownst to you both, on the deck, the boys sat “you think we should go check on them?” Jack asked as he cracked open another beer “nah it’s about time that they sort out their shit.” Alex shook his head as he looked down in the distance, not hearing any alarming noises. 

Cole sat there in agreement “besides what’s the worst thing that they could do right?” Oh if only he knew…      

[nonstoplover]

all of my heart ~ carlos sainz (cs55)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader

summary: a short story of carlos becoming a father

words: 2K

warnings: one tiny swear word in spanish ig, otherwise nothing, just fluff fluff fluff and dad!carlos which deserves its own warning tbh

a/n: i know you love the dad!driver trope, @vetteltea, which is why i dedicate this blurb to you (though i think you'd maybe prefer this to be with seb now that i think about it), as a thank you for all the amazing fanfic you provide this fandom with. i love you so much, you're so talented, so inspiring, and i truly wish to be like you. <33

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Carlos is still a little out of breath when he hears it for the first time.

A delayed red-eye flight and an excruciating traffic jam caused him to almost miss this appointment. The first he finally has the chance to attend – having had a race when the initial one happened –, and he almost missed it.

As a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, obvious sign of how only seconds ago he was still running up the stairs of the hospital, a smile forms on his lips. Looking at her, lying down, the screen beside the bed showing a picture of their baby.

Well, at least they say it's that. For the love of God, Carlos can't see anything on it. He still nods along with a wide smile when the nurse asks him if he sees it. The focus shouldn't be on him and whether he can see it or not, but on his girlfriend.

God, this woman. He hasn't seen her in over a month now. And this is how they meet again: when they meet the little one officially as well, though on a screen only. Hell, the last time he saw her, they had no clue of this wonderful piece of news. From watching her wave with a smile through the glass at the airport, before he turned a corner towards his flight and disappeared, fast forward to now, when he catches sight of her lying form, just as gorgeous as ever, if not more, with a baby growing inside her. A creation by him and her.

They're gonna have a child, Carlos thinks, and as if it's the first time he realises this, his heart stops for a second. In happiness, in awe, in fear.

Because as the image on the screen gets displayed, and Carlos gets lost in-between words like embryo and transvaginal scan, suddenly the doctor announces that the baby indeed has a heartbeat, listen, you can hear it. And this one sentence, followed by the almost inaudible little thuds, is enough to make everything feel real.

Of course, he already knew what the positive pregnancy test meant, the one she showed him first on a FaceTime call, then sent as a separate picture later. But this, hearing that tiny heartbeat, it made everything even more real. They had actual proof now of what is going to happen in the near future. It might not have been planned, but it doesn't make it any less sweeter.

With his heart beating away in a rapid rhythm, he feels his facial muscles pull as his lips curve into a smile, so wide that it even showcases his pearly white teeth.

When he sees her the next time, the first thing Carlos does is place his palm against her tummy. The bump is already visible – well not in the hoodie she's currently wearing, but it's there underneath, he knows –, and he's been dreaming about holding it for many, many days now.

She lets out a giggle, throwing her head back a little, having expected a kiss upon her arrival, not this. Carlos practically doesn't pay her any attention, his sole focus is on talking with his baby.

Later on in the car she inquires jokingly the reason behind why she's not the first to be greeted by him, and he explains with a serious tone why that's the priority. "You get all this time to speak to her and bond with her, and she's already inside you which is a bonus, but she has to know exactly who her father is."

"She, huh?" she raises a teasing eyebrow, and he simply smiles, shrugging in a nonchalant way.

"I can feel it in my bones."

He looks so self-assured that she can't help but lean in and press her lips against his cheek. She still can't believe she'll get to have a kid with this man.

Doubt starts rising in his mind when they reach the third trimester. The date underlined in bright red in his calendar creeping closer and closer, making him more self-conscious and unsure than he's ever felt.

What if he won't be a good father? What if his job gets in the way of his child really feeling close to him? What is he supposed to do anyway? He already has no idea what he's doing in this whole pregnancy, safe to say, how is it going to be when he finally gets to hold the baby as well?

He's read multiple long articles, spending every flight he's had to take nose deep in his phone, until his eyes hurt and words started to lose their meaning. He wants to be the best father he can be.

This even includes several calls to his parents, asking for advice from them as well, trusting and valuing their words far more than the ones he can find online. He knows that his parents proved already that their methods work, they've been good parents to him and his siblings.

Still, the only thing that seems to reassure him is that they – the baby and him – have her. His superwoman of a girlfriend, who simply seems like she was actually born to do this, to be a mother, taking every obstacle in their way with a cheerful step and a smile reaching from ear to ear on her face.

How did he deserve her?

As he's gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting out a groan while the pain he's feeling in his hand spreads – mierda, this woman is strong – he repeats one sentence as a mantra. Only to keep him from worrying his heart out for the love of his life, who's currently letting out loud gasps and occasional curses, her eyes teary and her cheeks red from the strain of pushing and pushing and pushing.

I hope the baby looks like her.

Why is this so important to him? He has no idea. He doesn't even know why the thought popped into his mind in the first place. He just knows he has to keep on repeating it to divert his mind, otherwise he'll lose his sanity.

Simply, he has to focus on picturing a baby with her eyes, her hair colour, the elegant line of her nose, the curve of her lips, her rosy cheeks. Every inch of their baby looking like a mini-her. Because what would be better than looking at his girlfriend and marvel at her beauty? Of course, looking at her and his daughter, and seeing the exact same beauty? Sure, it would be nice to have a tiny detail of him in their baby girl somewhere, just so that it would be obvious to the whole wide world that this is his baby, that the woman giving birth to her now is his woman. Maybe the exact copy of his eye colour? Or his locks of hair, silky and thick? It doesn't matter. Honestly, who cares about how she looks, he will love her no matter what. With his whole heart, with more love, a deeper connection than he's ever felt before.

Minutes pass, then some more, until it feels like an eternity has gone by since they arrived to the hospital. But then he hears it – crying. The unmistakable baby sound, entering the haze of his mind like a sharp knife, bringing him back to reality in a millisecond.

Everything seems to quicken up, and the next thing he knows is that the bundle of his child is placed in his arms, and after that initial wave of slightly terrified chills running through his body, immediately a mixture of relief, joy and tranquility spreads in his veins. He has no idea why he was so scared this whole time. This is... subconscious. Instinctive. Meant to be.

In that very moment he wordlessly promises the baby to always be there for her, always looking out for her, always caring and loving her with all of his heart. He won't let any harm ever reach her.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sainz, on the birth of your son," the doctor approaches him, and that last word bursts the bubble Carlos has been surrounded with.

Son?

His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open in shock – right until he hears the exhausted sounding but unmistakable giggle coming from the bed. "I told you," she grins.

"A boy," he mumbles dreamily, glancing at his girlfriend, lips curving into a smile matching hers.

"Good thing I came prepared with boy names as well," she continues, slight pants leaving her lungs still.

The memory when she practically wanted to force him into choosing a male name as well, just in case – because he was so sure about their baby being a girl that he didn't even want to spend a moment thinking about names for the other sex –, pops into his mind, and he shakes his head. He was wrong.

Tiny feet patter on the floor, growing louder and louder, before a second later they suddenly cease and get replaced by a high-pitched giggle.

She glances up just as Carlos appears in the doorway to the kitchen, their son hanging from his arms, his little cheeks red from all the laughter. Her heart swells at the sight and sounds, her eyes shine bright, connecting with his easily – the love of her life.

Miracle. That's what the little boy is in their lives.

Watching Carlos be a father has been the best thing she's ever had the chance to witness. The way he plays with him, practically going back to being a child, his sole focus being on entertaining his son.

The Sainz household they established not too long ago is filled with laughter every day, the walls reverberating with the joyous sounds until they fill their hearts.

"When's dinner ready, mi amor?" Carlos leans in, pressing a loving kiss on her temple.

She cheerfully smiles, her fingers moving to caress the impossibly soft, dark brown hair on the little boy's head. "A few minutes," she replies, catching her fiancé's eyes once more. "If you two help me set the table, we can eat sooner."

Her son nods eagerly, as much as his three-year-old energy allows, and waves his tiny arms to wordlessly tell his father to put him down on the ground. Carlos obeys, then opens the cupboard to find the appropriate plates – all plastic, reserved for the times when it's only the three of them eating, to allow the young one to help them without the worry of him breaking anything.

She watches from the corner of her eyes as her two boys move towards the dining table, where Carlos lifts their son to stand on a chair, this way allowing him to reach the tabletop. His hands never leave the boy's waist, just in case, and when he's finished setting the plates, helps him back on the ground.

"Good job, chiquito," Carlos holds his palm out at the proper height.

"Gracias, papá," the little one slaps into his father's hand eagerly, making his mother smile so wide it's close to actually hurt the muscles in her cheeks.

They walk back to the kitchen counter with proud looks on their faces, and she places the bowl of salad in Carlos' hands. "It's too heavy for you, pumpkin," she explains when her son opens his mouth to complain.

"Te adoro," Carlos steals a melting kiss from her lips as his fingers get a hold of the bowl, before leaning back and fully taking it from her. I adore you.

With her heart fluttering with nothing but pure happiness and blood rushing to her face, she enjoys the way that bashful smile forms on her lips that only he can achieve. Her gaze follows his movements, the way the T-shirt clings to his arms, to his back muscles, and how the soft material ripples with every move he makes. He is breathtaking. He truly is, because unawares, she lets out a soft gasp watching him and has to endure the knowing glance and that smirk he casts her way above his shoulder. He knows her too well.

She shakes her head, attention going back to her son still standing by her feet, patiently waiting for his next task. A perfect mini-him, way more than she could've ever asked for.

A perfect child, a perfect man to call the love of her life, a perfect life. And it's all hers.

a/n: i'm back baby!! i've been gone for the longest time ever (since last summer) but i'm in my final year of uni and i had to write my thesis too so hopefully that's a good enough excuse. writer's block ain't fun still. it really just feels nice to post something again.

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

[aliaology]

WORK SONG

summary: jacks mind runs constantly, and you’re the reason

small a/n: per usual, readers looks wont be described, so reader can look however you want ♡ , does get slightly sensual! not tagging ppl for this one bc i forgot my taglist and im sleepy

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

not doing my tags bc im too lazy for this rn

boys workin’ on empty, is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? i just think about my baby. im so full of love i could barely eat

being in love was a full time job, and jack had no complaints. he loved being in love because it meant waking up next to you. it meant he was able to touch you, to feel you, to be with you. oh— how he loved it. he didn’t care if he was at practice, just thinking about you, because you were his motivator. he didn’t need drinks or food or sleep to play, just you.

you brought him the strength he craved, you were his number one fan. the one who supported him through thick and thin even when he was wrong. the one who held their hand out, so he could grab it and begin to climb. you were such an angel.

there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. i’d never want once from the cherry tree. ‘cause my baby’s sweet as can be. she’d give me toothaches just from kissin’ me.

your kisses were sweet. the way you’d pepper them against his skin, over and over and over again, made him fall deeply. you were his muse and your sound was so pretty. the way your mouth would drop open, noises escaping it. oh how you were so beautiful.

your lips tasted like cherries, a favorite fruit that he began liking the second his tongue met with the flavor of you. the flavor would linger, no matter what lips he kissed.

the feeling of your fingers on his face, or his lips, anywhere on his body, was like heaven. giving into you like a drug— he was addicted. he loved your touch, no matter if it was gentle, or the scratches you’d leave on his back. he yearned for more.

and i was burning up a fever. i didn’t care much how long i lived. i swear i thought i dreamed her. she never asked me once about the wrong i did.

jack hated being sick just because of the feeling. the feeling of a stuffy nose, a headache, the cough. all of it. but you somehow made it good. the way you would take care of him, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he had a fever. or when you’d make soup from scratch, your grandmas recipe that you keep a secret.

you were too good to be true. you were the embodiment of perfect in jacks eyes. everything about you. from how you spoke and how your tone was always gentle — to how you felt inside and out. every time you grip jacks hand hard— he swears he’s dreaming. you can’t be real. you were ethereal.

my babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. if the lord dont forgive me, i’d still have my baby and my babe would have me.

jack didn’t like you worrying. he hated it, hated how you would get so scared that he would leave to go back to an ex. how you thought you were nothing compared to them— but you were so much more. you were his everything. the one who kept him going. you were his sun, he revolved around you. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“baby— what if they ever want you back? they’re so pretty.”

“oh baby, they could never compare to you.”

he didn’t care what he’d have to do, but he’d do it all for you to stay happy. in his eyes, you hung the universe. you were his universe.

when i was kissing on my baby, and she put her love down soft and sweet. in the low lamp light i was free. heaven and hell were words to me.

being able to press slow kisses to your neck and shoulders were his favorite things to do. or watching your soft body rock gently with his as your sweet love lit him up. you made jack forget everything in the world no matter where you were. you made jack forget everything else just by talking to him.

skin on skin, heavy breathing, sloppy kisses, it was all sweet. it was all you, you and your love. no time with him was for the hell of it. all of it was love, pure and desirable.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. no grave can hold my body down, ill crawl home to her.

love. jack loved being in love. he hated the saying ‘til death do us part’ and it wasn’t because he didn’t believe it. he hated it because it would never apply to him. he wanted a saying that would be one he could hold onto forever, just like your hand. he wouldn’t part ways with you once death decided to take over.

no— he’d hold you the entire time. he’d be with you no matter where you were. he’d wait until you two met again— and then he’d take you to another universe because in every one of them, you were soulmates.

jack would not let a grave, or death, part you two. he would hold onto you whether it be with one hand, or with his heart.

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[blingblong55]

The end is here...right?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

photo credit @ave661 middle pic Not edited at all!! ---- F!Reader, angst? idk, cheating ---- A/N: honestly, don't even ask me what this is, I felt the need to write this very late at night...so I'm sorry

"I love you." Oh, what a miserable way to begin the end of this love story. How did it end? How did his smiles, kisses and most importantly those eyes that shined when they looked at you end? Why must love be this evil? Soon, after this funeral you and he will walk away and be strangers once more.

One more glance, maybe one that explains why he fell out of love. Maybe it is a hopeful word for a fool like you. If only love was a joke, at least one you understood but it isn't and now you're dying in a room whilst the walls scream at your foolish heart. Can you pretend he never existed? Can you call him and have him there as he holds your lifeless heart? This book that you made wasn't one for the weak. This book was made for those who needed a reminder that they needed to leave. Was it toxic to have him love you that much and then rip it away from you just before you told him the dreams you wanted to have with him? Was it evil that you had already planned a life with him? or was it vile to have you this in love with the idea of a man who couldn't love you like you wanted?

There will be a day when he fades but today isn't that day for he tattooed his name on your heart for the next millennia to see…to whisper about when they hear the chapel weep for a love that it never got to seal. Oh, what a cruel man must Simon but to have you in bed, to kiss your body like there was no other woman for him. Wise men do say death is best when it isn't by the hand of the lover. If only he warned you about him.

His smile will forever be engraved in you just like his lips will be left with scars that once were butterflies on you. "I'm not a good man, love," he once told you and oh what a fool were you when you didn't listen. Did the weeping willow tree not warn you? "You're in terrible danger." it once said but you brushed it off.

His things are still there, his jacket on the chair like the night he came home and hugged you. Did you know it'd end with you waiting for him to come home again? He was here to destroy you and what a job he did.

Maybe someday, in an alternate universe, he hadn't left you for her. Maybe he would have stayed and completed the dreams you once had. And just perhaps you'd be religious to thank whatever is out there for him.

Tonight you curse whatever is out there.

He was never to keep, maybe he should told you that.

Does he love her like he did you? Maybe he kisses her shoulder but does he move the furniture so he can dance with her in the middle of a drunken midnight? Midnight…hm..what a time to be dead and buried with his memories on your headstone.

He was yours.

He was meant to be yours.

Will you one day confess you left the front porch light on in case he needed a guide back home?

"Forgive me, I have sinned. I committed murder, not literal murder but of my own heart," you whisper to the altar you never got to say your vows to. And maybe she'll hear his vows but you swear yours are sweeter than hers.

As the midnight falls, you aimlessly walk to the haunted chapel. The rain pours as you look at the windy sky. You sigh and maybe that should've been your last one for what is life if not with him.

You don't need much, just need him. Maybe you can sacrifice anything…for the love of all hell… sacrifice anything to get him back.

As you sit on the stairs of the chapel, you look dishevelled. There is a ring on your hand. The one he gave you one Christmas when you mentioned you liked the design of one. What a cruel idea that must've been. Your thumb runs over the designs and tears cascade down your face but it's oh so beautifully covered by the rain. "I love you, Simon. I…I fucking love you and it's killing me." you say before you break down in sobs. There's this feeling, the feeling when you cry too much your chest begs you to stop, where your head aches and your face begs to stop this pain.

You hold onto yourself, maybe this way you'll heal some of the love he took with him but it won't until you have him there.

Is it idiotic to want him back? Yes, but damn does it feel good to want him. So what if he broke your heart? Maybe no one understands this feeling. Maybe the poets were right.

You must let him go, it is killing this aching and weak heart of yours.

You do just that. The ring is left on the steps of the chapel and walk away. What an awful way to mourn the loss of his love. The rain will cover your tracks and maybe you can disappear for a little while.

Once you disappear, there is a shadow man who also mindlessly walks to the steps of the chapel. He sits down on the same steps you did. In his heart, there is a funeral that is happening. He lost something…someone. This man is bitter. There is a sour taste he leaves wherever he goes. Does he know the sour taste he left in you?

There is a story that goes around about him and you know it better than those that tell the story.

As he sits there, he looks at his hands. Did he kill his lover? Not physically…well…yes and now but he killed her heart. He is the doctor that collects hearts and he has yours in a golden jar.

As he looks down, he finds the ring he gifted you. As his eyes wander around the area, you are never to be found at least not anymore and maybe he will find you in his dreams. That's the last place you haunt with that ever-lovely smile he oh so adores.

Those who love are fools struck by Cupid.

He holds the ring and lets his thumb run through the designs he will never craft for another lover. He hums and shuts his eyes. If angels were real, they'd pity him and put him out of his misery.

There was a film about this kind of love out there and maybe you two are fools recreating it but adding real emotions into the mix.

"I love you, even if you'll be the end of me," he whispers as he sighs and lets the tears fall.

The end is here…and it wants to sweep you away but Simon clings to you. Was there another woman? No, he lied and it was a damn good lie so he'd let you live the life he can never give you. He is a bump, a major one at that, in your life and maybe one day, you'll forgive him when you sit down with the actual man of your dreams.

Love, what a stupid word.

A/N: not tagging anyone because I don't even know what this is anymore

[tomurawr44]

I have a request!!

Shiggy wins reader the giant plushie she wanted from the claw game of the arcade (he says it’s all rigged but she begs him to help her because he seems like the type to be good at these games “hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”) and she watches his slender fingers skillfully move the controls and he wins the derpy giant plushie for her in one try.

But then she can’t stop thinking about how those fingers would feel inside of her, and wants to reward him…he’s probably the type to be into knee socks and plaid mini skirts…and she did want to thank him for the plushie…she’s going to rock this virgin’s world.

(Go wild with NSFW plz we’re all a bunch of perverts)

A/N: is it too tmi if i say i did what happened in this fic irl

Warnings: nsfw!! hand kink..finger suckling, face fucking, dangerous sex..

"So close...!" you groaned as you saw the plush fall out of the claw machine again, whining against the glass you pressed against the glass with your fingers clawing at it, sliding down before you rested against the controller. "Why even bother? all these claw machines are rigged y'know." he'd speak up, sipping on his drink while he watched you bent over the machine and crying about some ugly plushie. he was confused and thought you were stupid. as per usual.

"you don't get it! I need this thing and i need it now!" you whined like an immature brat as you stared at it, it was a derpy off brand hatsune miku plush, and it made you want to cry with frustration, with only a few coins left. you turned to him as he scoffed, his irritation only growing. "your blowing all your money on something we could get online for cheap." he stated while he looked around, you knew you looked ridiculous, you knew that you could just buy it but the experience, memories and the challenge is what makes it such a memorable piece to remember. that's why you wanted it so bad, plus, it was hatsune miku, who wouldn't want a hatsune miku plush? but he couldn't lie he found it a little funny. "besides, i could win that easy peasy, there's a bunch of tips i got from online." your eyes lit up upon hearing that, of course Tomura of all people knew how to beat a game meant for kids.

with the clack of your shoe against the floor, you gripped onto him by his shoulders with a pleading pout. "please Tomura please! i-I'll do anything i swear! I'll give you anything you want or a reward for getting me that plush!" you pointed at the derpy miku as he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks, anything he wants? a reward? life couldn't be any damn sweeter for him, and he gets to finally show off cool stuff he's saved from the internet. he pulls out his phone and looks for the tutorial video again before he places coins against the slot and the game music started beeping again.

he moved his fingers delicately, trying not to decay the machine as he fiddled with the joystick almost randomly as he rapidly tapped on the button, the way he handled the machine and the way his slender fingers moved against it made you bite your lip a little as you watched him, a dork in his natural environment. you could see his focused reflection in the glass of the machine as you snapped a quiet pic, god he's adorable. you watched him fail before he angrily put in more coins, rocking the machine a little as he handled it more roughly, mumbling curses while he tried for that miku plush again, the way he was so quick and rough made you stare a little longer than intended before you heard the victory music and the plush gently fall into the slot. a wide smile appearing on your face, he couldn't lie, it found it rather..cute.

"YES! yes! Thank you so much Tomura! i love it so much you don't even—" he stopped you with a cocky grin. he looked so nerdy doing this. "yeah, whatever. what's my reward?" you pause to think over it before you just smiled at him and locked arms. "a hug." was what you said but what really wanted to leave your lips was alot more than just a 'hug.' you could feel your underwear stick to your panties as you let out a small huff, smiling softly at him, poor boy doesn't know what's coming. he kept walking as he truly thought his reward for showing off his awesome hand-eye-coordination was just a hug. "I'll get Kurogiri to warp us home, he isn't home right now so i guess you can hangout awhile longer."

perfect.

when you arrived and stepped out of the purple fog, at the dingy bar, there was no one keeping it and it was empty as always, Tomura led you to his messy room as he plopped down on the bed and watched you cuddle the derpy miku plush. "why do you even like it so much?" he questioned while he ran his fingers against his neck while eyed you up and down with a curious look. "it's ugly, but cute, ugly cute y'know?" you giggled softly before putting it aside and crawling closer to him. "You still waiting on that reward?" you whispered as you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and brought his open hand to your breast. he immediately got the message and nodded his head reaching for his gloves before you stopped him. "no, not yet."

"what the hell do you mean 'not yet'? are you suicidal or something?" he looked at you as if you were stupid before you only giggled and brough his hands together, dropping his right one before you pressed the tips of his left fingers against your lips. "Maybe, not really thinking with my head here." you whispered before you parted your lips and licked them, watching him shiver before you began to slide his middle and pointer finger in and letting your tongue play against them. you let out a few soft moans as he watched you with eyes blown wide. his cock aching painfully against his jeans as he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "wh-what the hell are you doing..? i-..you know that-" He was cut off by the sound of you pulling away with a small pant, letting the pade of his fingers rest against the flat and soft surface of your tongue. "can't I appreciate these pretty hands in peace?" you chuckled. "You can't appreciate them if i dust you.."

"but you won't, right pretty boy?" is what you whispered before you slid his fingers back into your mouth, sucking on them like you would with a cock as you even pulled them barely all the way out before you swirled your tongue against the tips before sliding it all the way back in, letting drool leak down your throat as you maintained eye contact with him. he tried to reach down and undo his buttons, grabbing his dick and pulling it out as he jacked off to the sight of you doing that to him, letting out small moans and biting his dry lips while he stroked himself to the sight. "i-i fucking knew you were kinky but..this is new.." he tried to match his pace to your mouth as he felt like absolute heaven.

you pulled away just before he was about to cum, letting his fingers barely connect to your lips with a string of drool before you pulled him to stand up while you got on your knees. you saw him put on his gloves before he let his pants pool around his ankles as he shoved his needy cock into your throat. "G-gah! if this is– wh-what i get for winning...!" he groaned as he thrust into your mouth, grinding against you every now and then. "Fuck- take me to the arcade every weekend- please! let me win for you..!" he babbled as he thrust into your face, his cock sliding against your tongue as you tuned him out a long time ago and let him use you like a fleshlight. it didn't take long for him to shove himself as deep as he could down your throat before cumming, giving you no option to spit out or swallow, besides, who would be spitting him out? certainly not you. he panted as he twitched in your throat, watching you pant as he pulled away and let his saliva soaked dick rest on your face as it leaked remnants of his load onto your cheek.

"What do i get for buying you a cosplay?" he whispered as he looked down at you with a crooked smile, his cock pulsing on your face as you smiled back. this was going to be one..long and spoiled night for you. don't tell All For One why he blew his allowance on clothes that seemed so expensive, or Kurogiri for that matter.

—Ake 2024

[mint-yooxgi]

Depravity - Yandere!Wolf!Bang Chan

Yandere AU & Wolf AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Bang Chan X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,024

Warnings: Establish relationship. Predator/prey dynamics, and implications of consensual non-consent (cnc). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I honestly had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy it, too! It's feral, but sweet? At least, in my opinion lol... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fourteenth of The Feral Drabbles

I can smell you.

Oh, Baby Girl, knowing you’re as excited for this as I am just makes needing to catch you all the more sweeter. The pull you have on me is even stronger than that of the moon itself, and tonight, you’re mine.

I’ll admit, when you first suggested that I chase you around the woods like this, I was a little hesitant. Surprised would be an understatement, considering I thought I was dreaming again. There was no way you were letting one of my deepest fantasies come to life. Yet, here we are.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The mental image alone of how your eyes lit up in excitement after I agreed to this fuels every movement I make. I need to get to you. I need to have you. There’s no escaping your fate, Baby. I’ll catch up to you, and when I do, you better be ready. After all, it was you who told me to unleash the beast.

He craves you. I have always craved you. Since the first moment I saw you, I knew that we were meant to be. I did everything in my power to ensure you only ever saw the best of me, but you’ve secretly wanted me to let loose. All this time, and I thought you were perfectly content with me being nothing but a gentleman.

Oh, how wrong I was.

You seek the thrill of the hunt, too. If only I had known sooner, I would have gladly made your heart shudder as it is now while I chase you through the foliage, creeping closer with each step. 

I can hear everything, you know. I can hear the way your breath hitches with every snap of a twig. You heart stutters each time my footsteps approach you. I can tell you’re trying to be sneaky, but there’s nothing you can do that would throw me off your trail. Your very being calls to me, and like hell am I letting you slip away.

Though, I’m not unreasonable. I even gave you a head start, just like you wanted. The goal is to end in our little cabin, deep within the darkness of the woods. No one to disturb us; I can have you all to myself. 

I plan to make you scream tonight, Baby Girl; only you, me, and the moon.

Tracking you has never been easier. I’m already attuned to your every move. I have to be. I care too much about you to not know every little detail I can about the beauty I plan to spend the rest of my life with. Our story will be timeless, as will our love. I’ll make sure of it, even if it’s the last thing I ever do. I’m never letting you go, though from the way your excited giggles fill the air, I can tell you don’t want me to, either.

With every passing moment, your scent becomes stronger. I could end this quickly, but you wanted to draw this out. Besides, I want to give us a satisfactory prelude to the night I’m about to give you. You told me not to hold back, and the longer I spend hunting you, the more that burning desire within me swirls and builds.

Fuck- I can’t wait to have you spread out beneath me, naked and trembling in ecstasy. I want to see your eyes roll, and your thighs shake. I want to hear you scream my fucking name, praising the moon for bringing us together just as it has always been fated to be. I plan to take everything from you, and give everything of me in return. I won’t stop until we’re both satisfied, Baby Girl. I’ll show you just how insatiable I can be…

I’m getting closer, I can tell. I wonder if you’ll be able to see my golden eyes cutting through the darkness. You told me not to hold back, and I don’t intend to. Of course, I promised not to chase you in my true form, that’s just unfair. There wouldn’t be a chase if I did that, and I swore I would never hurt you. Though, it would be fun to see your reaction when a large, handsome wolf comes bounding up to you, only for it to shift into me in the next second.

Perhaps next time…

Just wait until you see how strong I can be. All those times I’ve held you close, I’ve cut back on how tightly my arms would wrap around you. Now, I don’t have to. You want me to lose control. You want me to claim you, just as I’ve always desired. By the time I’m done with you, all you’ll be able to think about is the way my hands feel all over your body. Your mind will be so consumed by the pleasure of it all, the only thing you’ll be able to remember is my name. My fingers will leave marks all over your skin, igniting a fire over your body just as your touch does to mine. Tonight, as with every other night, I serve you. I will always serve you.

Fuck- just thinking about the way my fingers are going to sink into your plush skin makes me quicken my pace. I want to feel you beneath me, squirming and begging for more. I want to make your hips buck into my mouth as my tongue explores every dip and crevice of you. I already know you taste amazing, but tonight, it’ll mean that much more.

Oh, Baby… I can’t wait to feel you dripping all over me. My fingers ache to be buried in that tight little cunt of yours. My lips long to be pressed against every inch of your body. A body which brings me to my knees every single goddamn time I look at you. If only you could have heard the way I whined for you when this whole thing started. I’m desperate, Baby, and you should know that it’s all for you. All because of you, and once I’ve unleashed him, there’s no turning back.

I’m going to have you fucking begging me for more as my tongue buries itself in that precious cunt of yours. I can’t wait to taste you, and have you dripping down my chin like you usually do. I want to feel your thighs squeezing around my head as I drown in that addictive nectar that flows from between your legs. I’m gonna fucking lose myself in you, just like I always do.

Hmm, I wonder how many times I can make you squirt? Five? Six? …Seven?

No matter. I plan to lose count, anyways.

I’m almost there…

With every step I make, there’s a steady crunch of leaves beneath my feet, and I can heart your heartbeat growing louder and louder. Even you can tell I’m close, and that only makes the thrill rushing through my own veins that much stronger. Once I catch you, I’m dragging your ass back to that cabin and having my way with you. There’s no escaping the monster lurking in these woods. He belongs to you, and he always will.

Oh, you cleaver little minx…

You purposely threw me off with your scent. You left a little gift for me to find, and at the giggle I can hear drifting through the air, I can still tell you’re close. Only now, I’m not holding back. My Baby is walking around these dark, cold woods without a shirt on. I can’t let you weather the elements like that alone. What type of beast would I be if I let My Girl get cold?

Your playfulness might just be your downfall.

I’m coming for you, Baby Girl. You ain’t seen nothing, yet.

Alright, then…

Ready or not, here I come…

Every sense I have is honed in on you. Your scent, your breathing, your heartbeat. I can feel you surrounding me, and even I can tell my eyes are getting darker with each passing moment. The beast is lurking beneath the surface, just waiting to come out. I can practically taste the desire and excitement rolling off of you, and it only makes me move faster.

I need to get to you. Now.

Low growls escape me, my teeth sharpening into fangs as my claws extend. I know you can hear me using the trees to propel myself towards you, leaving my marks on them just as I’m going to leave my marks all over you.

My eyes scan the woods frantically, low snarls escaping me with every breath. I can hear you. I can smell you right in front of me, yet you’re not-

My breath hitches, and I look up, a wild grin pulling at my features as pride swells in my chest.

Clever girl.

Have I ever told you that I love it when I make your heart skip a beat? You seem to enjoy it when I grin like this, but I never thought I’d get this type of reaction from you. Perhaps I should do it more often… There truly is no greater feeling than knowing the effect I have on you.

That’s it, Baby Girl, let me hear your heart race as you attempt to climb further up the tree you’re in. It’s cute that you think you can escape me now.

It takes me no time at all to race up the tree, appearing right in front of you in the blink of an eye. The way your breath hitches is music to my ears. And that spike of arousal? Divine.

I’ve got you now.

Struggle all you want, I’m never letting you go. Though, it’s quite amusing to feel you attempt to break free from my hold, even as I jump down from the tree. I always told you that I could easily carry you if I wanted to, and getting to prove that fact now only makes this moment that much more sweeter. Your body was made for me, and mine for you. See how well we fit together?

The warmth of your skin against my shoulder only makes my own heart race that much faster. Fuck, Baby- you said anything goes, but just being able to hold your ass in my hand as I carry you towards the best fucking night of our lives is making my head spin. Always so plush and soft… 

Can’t wait to have my hands all over you… 

You’ve already made me so fucking hard from all the thoughts about what I’m going to do to you. From your intoxicating scent that surrounds me, I can already tell you’re fucking dripping, too.

Do you like the fact that I’ve been stalking you around these woods without a shirt on, letting you see all of me as I hunt you down like the precious little prey you are? Do you feel the electricity between us as your bare skin touches mine? Can you feel the way you make my own heart race, aching for you inside my chest? Everything I am, everything I do… Do you know that it’s all for you? That I’ve always been all for you?

No matter. Tonight, I’ll show you. There’s not an inch of this plush body that will go untouched by me. Lips, hands, cock, tongue… everything I am is yours tonight, Baby. You’re mine, just as I am yours.

That’s it, Baby Girl, go ahead and whimper my name like that all you want. Beg for me… It’ll only makes the beast inside that much more desperate to claim you. I’ve kept him at bay while the chase was on, but as soon as we step through that cabin door, you’ll see a whole new side of me. 

I would never hurt you, though. Even I have my limits. That being said, I’m not finished tonight until you’re either begging me to stop, or you pass out from the pleasure of it all. 

Finally, the beast is going to claim his prize.

It’s you. It will forever and always be you.

[drabblesandimagines]

Pinned

Leon Kennedy x reader, established relationship, fluffy

“Leon,” you huff. It feels all the air had been knocked out of you from when he tackled you down to the mat for the umpteenth time. He has your hips trapped flush to the ground with his thighs, your arms spread out above your head as he pins each wrist in place.

“What?” He grins, not having the good grace to even pretend to be out of breath.

“You’re meant to be teaching me how to get out of this.” You try and buck your hips to get some sort of leverage, but he squeezes his thighs together to stop you – the man never misses leg day.

“Yes, but to teach you how to get out, you need to know how it feels to be trapped first, right?”

He’s inches away from your face and all he can think about is how easy it would be to kiss you right now. Your face is flushed, chest heaving up and down as you try and catch your breath. He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit to enjoying having you in this position. Something about you squirming under him – his poor, helpless sweetheart.

“I think you’ve demonstrated the pinning part of the exercise well enough.” None of the self-defense tricks you’d learnt years ago seem to be dislodging him – your opponent far stronger than the average attacker, perhaps.

“Edwards wouldn’t have given you the full experience.”

You stop trying to push him off and look up at him, a knowing smile on your lips. You’d mentioned over dinner the night before you were going to be late home this evening - that Edwards, the man who sits opposite your desk in the office, had offered to go over some techniques with you after you admitted you were feeling a little rusty. Leon had looked offended at the idea, insisting the two of you would hit the gym instead after the day was done. “You’re jealous.”

“And whatever would I be jealous of, sweetpea?” He looks annoyingly smug.

“I don’t know – possibly the idea of another man straddling me.”

“Nah, I know it’s only me that could get you this flustered.”

“Frustrated, you mean.” You renew your efforts of escaping his grasp, trying to buck your hips again to get to throw him off balance but he proves once again unmovable. “Ugh!”

“Oh, you’re not flustered. Hm.” Leon replies in a teasing tone. “Well, let’s see how I can remedy that…”

You’re about to ask what he means when he starts his assault of pressing his lips along your jaw line in quick succession, once again stealing your breath. You swear you can feel the arrogance in his kisses, but that self-confidence had been part of what had attracted to you to him all those months ago, before he revealed a sweeter, softer side behind closed doors – something he claimed that you brought out in him, reminding him of a time when he wasn’t a government weapon.

You catch your breath, flexing your fingers in a test to see if his iron grip had loosened any, though the tense muscle of his bicep suggests otherwise. He stops, chuckling into your cheek. “Baby, you know I’m good at multitasking.”  

And then he moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin in alternate kisses, apparently on a mission to cover every single inch.

“Though enjoyable,” your voice is tight as his lips find your throat, “I don’t understand how this is helping me learn.”

“Oh, no, this isn’t part of the lesson." He mumbles. "I was just getting bored.”

You bristle, you want to let out of a grunt of annoyance, but all that comes out of your mouth is more of a whimper and that won’t do at all. Leon S Kennedy is not going to win this, you’ll never live it down otherwise. With renewed vigor, you jerk down your elbows towards your shoulders and follow the momentum to try and buck your hips once more, forcing him to break his grip on your wrists. You enter into a roll then, raising up your knee, pressing it into his chest to keep him at a distance and then yanking his arm forward with enough pull to bring him along with you, your other hand pressing into his shoulder until he is now straddled between your legs. You grab his other wrist and smile in triumph.

“You were getting bored?”

“Knew you just needed a bit of motivation.” He grins up at you, not even fighting the grip you have him in. You knew that he could easily break free if he so desired – there’s only ever going to be one of you who will win in an arm wrestle, after all – but he’s gracious in letting you have your moment. “I’m an excellent teacher, sweetheart.”

“An excellent tease.” You correct, keeping your gaze focused on his face. It would be far too easy for your eyes to drift down to the compression shirt he was wearing to train in.

“Sure you’re not getting bored now?” He lifts up his neck in an invitation, biting his lip as he looks at you.

You sigh, catching sight of the clock on the gym wall. “Nice try, Kennedy. Come on,” you let go of his wrists and climb off of him. “But there’s a class starting in under ten minutes and I don’t really fancy sharing your moans with them.”

He jumps up to his feet – unnecessarily so – before he presses a kiss to your temple, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close as he does so.

“Now who’s jealous?”

-- Self-indulgent nonsense cos I'm feeling poorly - bleh. Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[dedeinthewild]

PEPE WON THE SPRINT RACE OMG proud gf right here lmao jk (i’m not) can you do an imagine where they celebrate his win and it’s just so cute and there’s tears and all and he dedicate his win to the reader.

It's always so beautiful to see a first win, and Pepe's one was really something. I totally get you on the proud gf part 'cause I felt it in Quatar with Paul's amazing weekend (jk as well lol)💫

I swear I'll work on the other requests but I couldn't let this one sit :)

pepe martí x reader, established relationship

~ “That’s P1! You’re an F2 race winner!”

summary : Pepe’s first F2 win in Abu Dhabi capped off a tough season. It was more than just a race—it was about proving himself. Celebrating with his mom and girlfriend, he realized the win was a shared triumph, built on love and support.

A flawless start.

A flawless race.

A flawless end to a season that had been anything but generous to the Spanish driver wearing number twenty-one. A season mired in crashes, gravel traps, and botched strategies.

For so long, he had watched his teammate dominate, triumphing over a grid of twenty drivers, all chasing the same dream. And now, under the fading light of Abu Dhabi—a circuit that looked upon him like a loving mother—he was about to take his first step toward that very dream.

He was defying the expectations of those who didn’t know him.

Defying the machine that had dragged him to yellow flags and the back of the pack.

And defying his own hands, which he had often blamed for his failures, as they gripped the wheel that now guided him through the curves of the circuit.

Because, for the first time from start to finish, no one had anything to say about him. No critiques. At the green flag, he’d pulled off a textbook overtake on the first two cars. Lap after lap, he had continued to hold his ground, even as titans clashed behind him in the battle for the championship.

Because he wanted to stand on that podium step, to hear his anthem play, to hear his name echo through the circuit as the sun set behind the grandstands for the season’s final race.

Joseph Maria Martí.

That enormous smile that lit up the entire paddock, the hands that whispered to the car even when it didn’t seem to understand, and the fun facts he memorized late at night just to keep the briefing rooms alive. That boy, only nineteen years old, was about to claim a victory that didn’t matter for points, rankings, or team standings.

But for him, it meant everything. It was his way of climbing back to the top.

“Last lap, Bortoleto two seconds behind,” his race engineer informed him, eyes fixed on the telemetry, waiting impatiently for Pepe to be declared the winner.

Two seconds.

They could have been two tenths, hundredths, or mere thousandths.

But it wouldn’t have mattered. Pepe would’ve claimed this track as his either way.

Because waiting for him, just beyond the finish line, were three people:

His mother, the most important person in his life, his other half, and the child version of himself—the one he’d promised to bring to the highest step of the podium.

“That’s P1! You’re an F2 race winner!” the team radio crackled, and Pepe felt his chest swell with a joy he had rarely known.

One of those feelings so profound, so overwhelming, that it made him feel like he could fly.

He screamed, letting go of all restraint, throwing his head back inside the helmet as he focused on completing his cool-down lap at Yas Marina.

His Yas Marina.

Behind him, three championship contenders had fought tooth and nail for every last point.

And maybe what made his victory even sweeter was the fact that he hadn’t carried the weight of their pressure on his shoulders.

Only wings—the wings that had allowed him to soar.

On the main straight, team media staff and families had already gathered behind the barriers, waiting for the cars to return.

And there was no better feeling than parking behind the marker labeled with a bold “1.”

“Woah, woohoo!” he shouted again, throwing his arms toward the sky as dusk descended. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring the enormity of the moment.

Him, his passion, his talent—towering over everything.

Jumping out of the car, he saw Gabriel and Paul already embraced by their families and trainers while photographers turned their lenses toward him.

He raised his index finger to display a “1,” a number that, today, belonged solely to him.

Then, his gaze landed on two familiar figures.

One, with long blonde hair and a radiant smile—his mother, her pride shining through as she stood next to Paul, who was chatting with someone nearby.

And the other, with carefully styled hair and soft features—the woman he loved, who probably felt the same exhilaration in her chest that he felt whenever he looked at her.

He ran toward them, wrapping his arms tightly around the women in his life, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath to keep his emotions in check.

“Mi bebé,” whispered the stunning señora Martí, patting the blue helmet of her son before stepping aside to let his girlfriend have her moment.

Her hands trembled slightly, and if it hadn’t been for the cameras, she might’ve shed a tear or two. She was so proud she couldn’t find the words to express it. All she wanted was for Pepe to climb that podium and lift the trophy high above his head.

“It was about time,” he said, lifting his visor to reveal the dark eyes she loved so much.

“That I won in front of you.”

She smiled, pulling him into another embrace, letting herself be enveloped by the tall, lean frame of the Campos driver. He rested his head gently against hers.

Minutes later, as they stood under the podium, she watched him step onto the highest tier and accept the trophy beneath the Spanish flag.

Beside her was Isabella, Gabriel’s other half and reigning Formula 3 champion, equally emotional as she struggled to hold her phone steady for a photo.

“It’s comforting to see someone as emotional as me,” she joked to the Brazilian, while señora Martí recorded a video of her son’s celebration.

“I could never get used to this,” the blonde replied, dabbing a tear from her cheek, her exquisite features glowing with emotion.

They both looked up.

And Pepe was smiling. Smiling so much his cheeks must have hurt. He knew, somewhere in the crowd, there was a familiar blue shirt and the most beautiful pair of reading glasses.

His victory off the track.

He never would’ve imagined that, beyond his family, someone could be so proud of him. Someone who would wait for him at the barrier, their heart full.

But she had been there—even on the days when he came home feeling unworthy of his team, the junior program, and the category that had once believed in him.

“I love you,” she mouthed before he could pop the champagne alongside the other two drivers.

And after the celebration and the traditional photos, he leaned against the podium railing, drunk on happiness, with the trophy in one hand and the champagne bottle in the other.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing the trophy hand to his heart before dashing down the steps to rejoin his team—the team that had never stopped believing Pepe was the right gamble.

Later, as he walked through the F2 paddock flanked by the two women in his life, his mother exclaimed, “You won!” making him laugh as he imagined her group chats, likely brimming with photos of his triumph.

He ruffled her hair affectionately, then glanced at his girlfriend, who was reading the inscription on the trophy he’d handed her earlier.

“Yas Marina Circuit, FIA F2 World Championship, Sprint Race Winner.”

She raised her proud, joyful eyes to meet his.

“The way you’re smiling says it all,” she said, weighing the trophy in her hands while observing just how happy he was.

“How do you always say it?” Her smile widened into a grin.

“Everybody knows who Pepe is.”

He chuckled, cupping her cheek to stroke the skin lightly flushed from the sun as night began to consume Abu Dhabi.

“But only you know the Pepe who won that race,” he replied in his deep voice.

He was talking about the child standing behind the barrier, the boy who never lost hope, and the young man who had pushed to the very end, unseen but always leading.

“Because the only person who could cry under that podium was you.”

She— The one who had stood by him beyond his family.

The one who, in such a short time, had become his compass, guiding him home no matter how far Barcelona might be.

“You managed to get me here.”

“Your talent did.”

“But what would talent mean if I had no one to win for?”

He ran his driver’s hand through her hair, never breaking eye contact.

“This was our win, yours as much as mine,” he said.

“I finally got to the top step, but you’ve shown me what it means to have someone who loves unconditionally by my side.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before wrapping his arms around her one last time.

No helmet now.

With his face and heart laid bare.

Knowing they would never let each other go.

- not proofread or anything, so there might be a few errors💫

(I really like this one, that makes up for the mediocre last ones lol)

[lanawinterscigarettes]

for kinktober can I request Damon Salvatore (from The Vampire Diaries) fingering and praising a transmasc reader?

sure thing! I've never really written for damon before so sorry if he's a little out of character, I tried my best </3 thanks for requesting for kinktober!

Kinktober 2024 Day 17: Damon Salvatore fingering and praising a transmasc reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, vaginal fingering, praise kink, swearing, hickeys/marking, Damon's a bit of a tease, some overstimulation, could be seen as dubcon in some parts but everything was fully consented to by the reader beforehand

"There you go, baby. Such a good boy," Damon purred right next to your ear as his fingers sunk deep inside you, making you full in a way that you'd never felt before. Even when you touched yourself, you were somehow never able to get your fingers nearly as deep as he did, though he could probably attribute that to hundreds of years of experience.

You whined loudly in response, incredibly grateful that the house was currently empty. Stefan was out with Elena, which meant you wouldn't have to worry about his vampiric super hearing picking up on what was going on upstairs in his brother's room.

"Aw, baby, you're so cute when you whine like that," he teased while his fingers quickly thrusted in and out of you, his thumb just barely grazing over your clit when he spoke. "And you look so delicious right now, I could just eat you up."

God, what an asshole. He knew just how much his teasing affected you, especially in a situation like this one. He did it because he loved getting you all riled up, which he was already succeeding at doing.

An uncontrollable whimper escaped from you when his thumb fully met your clit, something you hadn't been expecting at all. Usually he took longer dragging it out before he finally made you cum, which could only mean one thing: he was most likely planning on overstimulating you, the bastard.

Of course you ended up being right, because just as soon as he gave you one toe curling, back arching orgasm he went right back at it, plunging his fingers in even deeper than before with the full intent of making you pass out with exhaustion by the time you were finally done.

"T- Too much-" you whimpered pathetically as you tried to close your thighs around his hand, but he simply used his free one to keep them propped open while he fingered you.

"Ah, ah, ah. None of that now." You'd have been pissed at the condescending tone he used when speaking to you if you weren't so caught up in the intense and overwhelming waves of arousal that were washing over your body in drove after drove.

Your entire body was shaking by this point, the tender skin of your neck raised with goosebumps when you felt him lean in and lightly trace your pulse point with the edge of his fangs.

"I bet you'd look so pretty with a couple of bite marks on you," he outwardly mused. You tensed up some, expecting him to sink his teeth in only to have him give the area a gentle kiss. "But I won't do it right now. I'll wait until a little later."

"It's too much," you suddenly said again, trying not to whine when he starting suck a few hickeys on your neck in the one or two bare spots there were (most of it had already been covered by his lovebites at an earlier time).

"Shh, I know. It's okay, sweetheart," he cooed softly, his voice uncharacteristically sweeter than it usually was. Sometimes he was unnecessarily cruel when you got so needy, but it seemed as though he was in a more forgiving and affectionate mood today. "You're being such a good boy for me, did you know that?"

His words made you let out a mewl in appreciation, your eyes hooded with a combination of both love and lust as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. "Only for you," were the three words you managed to breathe out, your brain having become a bit foggy due to the constant bombardment of pleasure you were receiving.

A faint smirk of amusement tugged at his lips. "Only for me, huh? You're only a good boy for me, is that right?" He curled his fingers inside you, carefully nudging against that one spot that he knew always made you go wild.

A sudden gasp was pulled from you, your eyes fluttering shut as the gasp turned into a moan. Apparently he wasn't feeling nearly as forgiving as you thought. "Y- Yes, only for you. No one else."

He let out a hum in acknowledgement at your words before going back to marking up your neck again, intent on showing you just how much he agreed with your statement. "You're damn right."

Anytime his possessive side took over, you knew you were bound to end up with a few fresh hickeys along with several sore muscles, which is exactly what ended up happening. At least he was kind enough to tell you once again just how much of a good boy you were for him while cleaning you up afterwards.

"You were so good for me, sweetheart. You made me so proud with how well you took it earlier," he murmured in a low and soothing tone once you were done, his touch gentle when he used a rag to wipe you down.

All you could do was lay there as you tried to catch your breath, watching as he took care of you. The almost unbearable overstimulation you'd endured earlier was definitely worth it in exchange for his earnest words of praise.

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