#my mom will over buy something and never use it

[ikkyfics]

𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Carmy Berzatto x f!reader

Summary: It’s ridiculous how much this has become a habit. Your eyes turn toward every new movement in the crowd, trying not to seem obvious, but also unable to help it. He always shows up. Always buys something, even if it’s just a handful of rosemary. Always stops.

Warnings: fluff, pre relationship, no use of y/n, carmy berzatto cooked for you, reader works selling herbs at the market

A/N: my first work with Carmy (internal screams) i basically watched all the seasons in three days (who needs sleep?) and it's all thanks to my mom @gingerteafairy. i'm obsessed and it's all thanks to you

The market has a rhythm that has become familiar to you. The strong scent of cilantro and mint mixed with the dry aroma of freshly harvested oregano, the sounds of people haggling, the warmth that spreads slowly as the morning progresses. You’ve been there since early, your hands still damp from the last restocking of cilantro, your fingers sliding through the green stems as you arrange the bunches on the stall.

And, as always, you look for him.

It’s ridiculous how much this has become a habit. Your eyes turn toward every new movement in the crowd, trying not to seem obvious, but also unable to help it. He always shows up. Always buys something, even if it’s just a handful of rosemary. Always stops.

The problem is, today, he’s taking longer than usual.

You’ve already caught yourself checking the clock more times than you should. He never comes at exactly the same time, but by now, he should’ve been here. Maybe today’s the day he doesn’t show up.

That thought bothers you more than it should.

You try to keep busy, try not to think about it as you sort through some dry leaves, as you arrange the small sprigs of thyme. You’re about to accept that it’s not happening today—when you feel it.

That subtle shift in the air.

The space feels different when he’s there. It’s not like people stop or the world changes, but you feel it. The weight of a gaze, the awareness of a presence. Your heart skips a beat before you even turn to make sure.

He’s here.

Carmy stops on the other side of the stall, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding something you can’t quite see yet. His hair is as messy as always, curls out of place, and his blue eyes scan the products in front of him before lifting to meet yours. His gaze has a way of pinning you in place.

"Hey."

You feel your heart stumble over its own rhythm, but you try to act normal. You grab a sprig of rosemary just to keep your hands busy because, if you don’t, you know you’ll end up fumbling.

"Hi."

Carmy keeps his eyes on you for a second longer than necessary before looking away, as if he’s checking the products. But he doesn’t reach out to grab anything, doesn’t ask about fresh dill or if more tarragon has arrived, like he usually does.

You wet your lips, trying not to seem so aware of his presence. "You don’t need anything today?"

He exhales through his nose, an almost laugh. "I always need something." He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze returning to you. "But, uh… I still have a good stock from the last batch."

"Oh." You nod, not quite sure what to do with that information.

It’s ridiculous how your brain seems to work differently around him. You’ve interacted with dozens of customers, demanding people, cooks, even other chefs who show up from time to time, but with Carmy, it’s always different. You’ve felt it since the first time he stopped by, since the first exchange of words, the attentive way he has when he picks the products, always testing the scent of the leaves between his fingers, analyzing the details as if he’s cataloging everything mentally.

He never says more than necessary, but he never leaves too quickly.

And his eyes always find their way back to you.

You don’t have the courage to look directly at him for too long, so you let your gaze fall to his hands. The fingers marked by old cuts, the tattoos scattered across his skin. The strength in his forearms, the way the tendons move under the skin when he clenches his hand, as if he wants to do something but hesitates.

He clears his throat.

You force yourself to look up before he notices where your attention went.

"So… Did the basil from the other day work out?" you ask, just to say something.

"Ah, yeah. Yeah. It was good." He gives a half-smile, seems genuinely pleased that you remembered. "Used it in a new dish. Gave the sauce the right touch."

You feel a silly pride at that.

Carmy looks to the side for a moment, runs his tongue over his teeth as if considering what to say next, and then… hesitates. His fingers tighten around what he’s holding, and only then do you realize it’s not an ingredient.

It’s a package.

He exhales again, this time through his nose, almost as if he’s trying to decide if he should really do this.

"Uh… I made this for you."

You blink. "What?"

He holds up the package for you to see better. Brown paper folded precisely, tied with a thin string. It’s a small package, but not tiny. It doesn’t look like something from the restaurant. It looks personal.

Your brain tries to process what’s happening as your hands accept the package almost automatically. The paper is warm to the touch.

"I just—" He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, looks away quickly before turning back to you. "You always help me here. Always get me what I need, even when it’s crazy busy. I wanted to, uh… return the favor."

Your mouth goes dry.

Carmy Berzatto cooked for you.

You hold the package more carefully, your breathing a little shorter than it should be.

"What is it?" Your voice comes out a little softer.

Carmy doesn’t answer immediately. He watches as your fingers slide over the brown paper, undoing the knot of the string with more care than necessary. You feel your movements a little more hesitant than you’d like, almost trembling, and you hate it—hate how much he affects you without even saying anything.

You unwrap the package slowly, the warmth still trapped in the paper, the aroma starting to escape into the air before you even see it. And when you finally do, your chest tightens.

It’s a tartine.

The bread looks perfect—crispy on the edges, golden just right, holding a generous layer of fresh ricotta spread with precision, topped with caramelized figs and a thin drizzle of honey glistening under the light. There’s something green on top, small leaves, carefully placed. Basil.

The same basil he bought from you.

You inhale, smelling it before even tasting it. The subtle sweetness of the figs mixed with the tangy touch of the ricotta, the bread lightly toasted. It seems like a small thing, but it’s a thoughtful dish—an exact, balanced combination of flavors.

And he made it for you.

You look up slowly, and Carmy is already watching.

The blue in his eyes seems more intense now, locked on you, attentive in a way that makes something in your stomach twist. He wants to see your reaction. He wants to know what you’ll think.

You swallow hard.

Your fingers tighten around the bread for a moment, as if they need an anchor before moving forward. Then, you take the first bite.

The crust breaks under your teeth, crispy but yielding easily to the soft center. The flavor spreads warm and fresh in your mouth—the contrast of the sweet honey with the slightly tangy cheese, the caramelized figs bringing a buttery touch, and, finally, the freshness of the basil cutting through everything in an unexpected but perfect way.

The perfection of that flavor hits you like a punch to the stomach.

You let out a sigh, a sound that Carmy hears. You feel it in the way he subtly shifts in front of you, as if your pleasure in eating this has struck something inside him.

You’ve never tasted anything like this.

It’s not just good. It’s not just something someone cooked.

It’s art.

You take a deep breath, blinking, trying to formulate something, but the words don’t come.

And Carmy… Carmy is still watching.

His expression has changed, almost imperceptibly, but you see it. He seems disconcerted for a moment, as if something has just hit him hard and he’s still trying to understand the impact.

He wanted to surprise you, but now it seems like he’s the one who’s been surprised.

Because a thought hits Carmy with force.

He’d like to cook for you every day.

The desire is sudden and visceral, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He feels his chest tighten at the idea, something warm and strange spreading under his skin. Because it’s not about impressing. It’s not about showing off what he can do. It’s about wanting you to taste. To feel. To like.

And that’s dangerous.

You lick a trace of honey from the corner of your mouth, and he has to look away.

"So…?" His voice comes out a little rougher than usual.

You swallow, still tasting the basil on your tongue. Your eyes return to him, shining in a way you don’t notice, but he does.

"This is… perfect."

Carmy lets out a short, low laugh, looking at the ground for a moment before turning back to you. "It’s just a tartine."

"No." You shake your head, still holding the bread in your fingers, still feeling its flavor in your mouth. "It’s not just a tartine."

He doesn’t respond immediately, just watches. You feel his gaze locked on you again, that intense way he has of paying attention, as if he’s analyzing every tiny detail of your reaction, every nuance on your face.

You lower your eyes to what’s left of the tartine in your hand, hardly believing that something so simple can have this impact. That someone can make something like this.

You swallow hard, your mouth a little dry before you blurt out, without thinking:

"This is, like… the best thing that’s ever been in my mouth."

And then you realize what you’ve said.

The realization hits at the same time a palpable silence settles between you.

The heat rises up your neck like an uncontrolled fire. Your heart stops and then races.

"I mean—" Your voice stumbles, desperate to correct, but it’s too late.

Carmy blinks.

The corner of his mouth twitches into an almost smile, and he lets out a low, quick laugh before wetting his lips and rubbing the back of his neck, looking away for a moment.

"Good to know," he says, and the casual tone of his voice only makes it worse.

You feel your face burning, your eyes darting to anywhere but him.

But Carmy is still looking at you, and there’s something different in the way he’s doing it now. As if something has snapped inside him.

As if he likes it.

You shift, restless, and Carmy tilts his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on you, as if he’s memorizing this moment.

"If you want, I can make something else for you someday."

Your stomach tightens in a different way now.

You feel the weight of what he said, the way he said it, the way his eyes are on you, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. As if cooking for you were something natural.

As if he wanted to do it.

The word "yes" almost slips out of your mouth without you realizing it, but you manage to hold it back for a moment, blinking a few times before letting out a small smile, trying not to seem so affected.

"I… would like that."

The corners of his lips lift slightly, almost imperceptibly, but you see it.

He lets out a short sigh, looks away at the rest of the tartine in your hand. "Then finish that before it gets cold."

You laugh, and Carmy can’t help it: he memorizes that sound.

[ano-po]

The canon event where you move out of your Asian household and you realize you can throw your single-use plastic bags/containers because you have glass, ceramic, or woven baskets to keep your things. Your mind says "what if there is a new thing you must contain?" but you answer with "I don't have much to contain anyway." You have one eco bag that also works as a tote bag sometimes. It's holding on. It's very sturdy. You use it for books and groceries and gadgets. It's only one and you don't feel the need to buy another. You throw away the batteries (safely) that are empty, because what's the need to keep them around, only to be forgotten? Most of your things are solar-powered and rechargeable anyway. You don't buy clothes that you think you'll use somehow. You only have 5 sets of carefully thrifted clothes or heavily saved long-lasting designers. They're all adjustable. You accepted that the human body is ever flunctuating. You realize you don't have to keep that scrap of fabric. You bought one microfiber cloth you use for every kind of surface. You can squeeze it and it's all dry, not staying in the kitchen wet and slimy. You realize you can throw away the sticks you found in the woods NOPE NOPE I NEED THESE STICKS HERE thaNk you very much these are good sticks see KALI-KALI SIZE WOW nope these are staying!

[astral-catastrophe]

me and the generic extra strong Tylenol and the pure rage in my system

[mattybsgroupie]

husband!chris headcanons

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: you guys need to understand that i’m not a chris girl. i’m not used to this fucker and i have to think LOTS before writing about him!!!!!!!! this one was really fun tho thank you for the request anon ♡

♡⊹𑄽୧

husband!chris who … would ask you to marry him during a make out session

husband!chris who … claims he didn’t buy a ring, so when you gave him a confused gaze he immediately got up from the couch

husband!chris who … got a ring pop from the kitchen and kneeled down to propose

husband!chris who … left the actual ring inside his underwear drawer

husband!chris who … yelled from the shower, “ma can you get me my boxers?”

husband!chris who … had a towel wrapped around his waist and the biggest smile on his face when you came with the velvet ring box in your hand

husband!chris who … started calling you “my wife” and never stopped

husband!chris who … wanted you as the mom of his kids the minute he first saw you

♡⊹𑄽୧

husband!chris who … couldn’t wait until the wedding party was over and had to have a quickie in the bathroom

husband!chris who … wouldn’t shut up about how pretty you look during honeymoon

husband!chris who … wants to have sex in every corner of the new house

husband!chris who … will wash the dishes for a blowjob

husband!chris who … walks around the house naked

husband!chris who … always doms and gets extremely embarrassed when he wants to sub

husband!chris who … loves to call you “mama”

husband!chris who … asks you to have his babies before cumming

husband!chris who … also has a breeding kink and loves saying that he’s gonna fill you up

husband!chris who … has like, 3 girls running around the house

husband!chris who … will convince his kids to do something fun outside just so you guys can have some time alone

♡⊹𑄽୧

[houseofwolvess]

it's official, im no longer allowed to have anything as my own unless i hide it deep within my room

[00valentina-writes00]

ambessa with wife reader who’s biggest opps are her parents… especially her mom.

♡♥︎Ambessa vs. Your Mother♥︎♡

♥︎ Ambessa knew from the moment you told her about your strained relationship with your parents that she wasn’t going to like them. She’s never been the type to tolerate people who hurt the ones she loves—least of all you.

♥︎ When she finally meets your mother, it takes everything in her not to let her displeasure show outright. Ambessa is a master of strategy, and if there’s one thing she won’t do, it’s let an opponent see her cards too soon.

♥︎ Your mother, on the other hand, takes one look at Ambessa and decides she’s too arrogant, too powerful, too intense. She doesn’t approve of your relationship (not that Ambessa cares), and she makes no effort to hide it.

♥︎ You can always tell when Ambessa’s resisting the urge to speak her mind. There’s a certain set to her jaw, a slight narrowing of her eyes when your mother makes a passive-aggressive comment about your life choices.

♥︎ “A woman of your status must be so busy. I’m sure it’s difficult to make time for a real marriage,” your mother muses over dinner, sipping her wine. You feel Ambessa’s hand tighten ever so slightly on the table before she smiles—sharp, dangerous. “I make time for what’s important. You must know how that feels, yes?”

♥︎ If your mother ever criticizes you—your decisions, your career, your existence—Ambessa is shutting that down immediately. “You will not speak to my wife like that,” she states, voice calm but final. And when Ambessa Medarda says something with finality, there is no arguing.

♥︎ She absolutely refers to your mother as her greatest enemy. Not in a dramatic, emotional way—just a simple, casual, “Ah, yes, my greatest opponent,” whenever she brings her up.

♥︎ The tension is palpable whenever they’re in the same room. You can practically feel the invisible battlefield between them, both standing their ground like generals before war.

♥︎ Ambessa refuses to let your mother manipulate you with guilt. If she ever notices you falling into old patterns—apologizing when you shouldn’t, doubting yourself—she steps in. “You owe her nothing.” The way she says it, firm and unwavering, makes it hard not to believe her.

♥︎ If your mother ever tries to criticize Ambessa to you, she will find out very quickly that you’re not interested in entertaining that conversation. “If you have a problem with my wife, take it up with her.” (Spoiler: she never does.)

♥︎ Ambessa, with all her power, influence, and sheer presence, is petty in the most elegant way. If your mother ever buys you a gift meant to be a subtle dig (like a book on “proper etiquette” or something equally condescending), Ambessa one-ups her by buying you something extravagant. “Ah, yes, an etiquette guide. Well, I got you a villa in Noxus. Use whichever you prefer.”

♥︎ The first time your mother really underestimates Ambessa, she tries to intimidate her. She speaks in that condescending, self-righteous tone, expecting to unnerve her. Ambessa simply leans back, watching her with a slow, knowing smirk, and says, “I have led armies. Do you think your words will move me?”

♥︎ Your mother despises that Ambessa calls you “my love” in public and in private, her voice dripping with possessive adoration. She especially hates that you always soften under Ambessa’s touch, no matter how tense your mother tries to make you.

♥︎ If your mother ever tries to push you into family obligations that you clearly don’t want to take part in, Ambessa has no problem stepping in. “She will not be attending.” And just like that, the decision is made.

♥︎ Ambessa is terrifyingly good at subtle power plays. Your mother will try to make a sharp remark, and Ambessa will respond with the most cuttingly polite reply, all while watching her like a predator studying prey.

♥︎ You know she’d go to war for you if it came down to it. One time, after an especially rough encounter with your mother, Ambessa muttered, “It is fortunate that I value your happiness more than my pride.” You knew, without a doubt, that she had been holding back.

♥︎ Ambessa does not believe in winning battles through screaming matches—no, no. Her victories are silent, effortless. When your mother scoffs that she’s “not what we expected for our daughter,” Ambessa simply replies, “No, I imagine you expected someone weaker.”

♥︎ The only reason Ambessa hasn’t officially declared war on your mother is because she respects that it’s your relationship to navigate. She knows you don’t need saving—but she is always there, standing beside you, ready if you ever call on her.

♥︎ Despite it all, Ambessa never forbids you from seeing your family. She knows it’s your choice. But she does make one thing clear: “If they hurt you, I will remind them why I am feared.”

♥︎ At the end of the day, when it’s just the two of you, away from the battlefield of family tension, she holds you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You are mine,” she murmurs against your skin, voice softer than it ever is with anyone else. “And that is all that matters.”

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘪. (𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦) 🍊

⤷ summary: saudi arabian and australian grands prix happen! y/n starts making vlogs for the races and it reveals more about her and a certain driver's feelings than she hoped, not that she notices. poor oscar's stuck in the middle of it all but he's trying his best!

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liked by f1, landonorris, and 55,007 others

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

mclaren saudi arabia, you were beautiful even if the results weren't! ready for what's to come

12,567 comments

user1 admin not using a single nice photo of the drivers 😭

user2 admin be honest is this your revenge era

mclaren well, yes!

user3 HELP MEEEE

user4 the way lando looks at her 😭

user5 this is a place of business

user6 oscar looks petrified 💀

mclaren dw guys we're still training him!

oscarpiastri wtf why would u say it like that, i'm not a dog

mclaren full-time team mascot, part time driver

user7 admin drop the insta your so pretty 😭😭

user8 no literally, content of her WHERE

mclaren ynusername 🤲🏼

user9 LETS FUCKING GO

user10 HER DISSING HER OWN TEAM 💀 THEY'RE GONNA FIRE YOU GIRL

mclaren they don't pay me to LIE

user11 CRAZYY

user12 LANDO IS NEVER GETTING A GOOD PIC EVER AGAIN 😭

mclaren what can i say, i am no mans peace 🥱

user13 icon

landonorris reporting you to hr

mclaren for what

landonorris idk harrassment or something

mclaren ok keyboard warrior, lets calm down 💀

user14 KEYBOARD WARRIOR HELEPSJSM

user15 i vote admin just takes over and we don't even get driver pictures

user16 real and true

user17 i fear we may have lost the plot

user18 thoughts on today's results

mclaren i'm trying to be positive in general but man

user19 LMAOOOOO

user20 ik the pr department is shaking in their boots after every post notif

mclaren probably! but unfortunately for everyone, i am going to keep doing whatever i want

user21 no more lando beef, mclaren admin?

mclaren i forget but i never forgive. i forgot why we were fighting but i stay hating bitches 🥱

landonorris literally WHAT DID I DO

mclaren IDK BUT IK U PISSED ME OFF 🫵

oscarpiastri diabolical photo choice

oscarpiastri i look like a little kid on picture day

mclaren so basically your everyday look

oscarpiastri yk what you are making this work environment very hostile

mclaren i can make it more hostile if you want 🤨

oscarpiastri nevermind!!!

maxfewtrell most flattering lando picture i've seen in years

mclaren that's saying something isn't it 🤩

user22 i went to haterville and they all knew you admin

mclaren they actually just elected me mayor there!!! 💪🏻

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liked by bsfusername, landonorris, and 17,800 others

ynusername if my admin duties don't kill me, i promise my caffeine addiction will! (:

3,422 comments

user23 be honest, how many coffees have you had today

ynusername 3!

user24 oh that's not that bad

ynusername +5

user24 JESUS CHRSUT

bsfusername at this point i think meth would be healthier

ynusername honestly yeah

ynusername thanks for the suggestion!!

user25 nooo admin don't do meth ur so sexy aha

ynusername that just made me want to do meth more

landonorris so what i'm hearing is buying you an espresso machine would get me in your good graces 😇

user26 oh brother here he goes

ynusername you must be deaf then

landonorris 😔 2 espresso machines?

ynusername i don't want ur dirty espresso machines 🙄

oscarpiastri now what car is that 🫵

ynusername SHHHHH

oscarpiastri TRAITOR

bsf2username when your not busy being super sexy on a race track, can we go thrifting and get sweetgreen and overpriced coffee 🙏🏼🙏🏼

ynusername this could've been an email, get this out of my comments 💀

ynusername but yeah obviously

user27 admin vlogs when 😔

ynusername SOON!!! very very soon

user28 mother feeding us once again

ynusername brb, adding single mom who works two jobs, loves her kids, and never stops to my resume

danielricciardo coffee recipe where?

ynusername in your dms now ‼️

danielricciardo is this flirting

ynusername no if i was flirting i would've told you to ask me in person, i'm just being charitable

landonorris can i get the coffee recipe too then 🤲🏼

ynusername wdy want next, my mugs? keep on walking charity case

user29 CHARITY CASE IS CRAZYDFHAJ

user30 she's so effortlessly funny and mean i love her

user31 i feel like this is so unprofessional /:

ynusername babe professional where, you are on??? my personal?? account???

user32 maybe she's born with it, maybe it's the fact that she's consumed enough caffeine to tranquelize a horse

user33 oh please the horse would be dead

ynusername call an ambulance, BUT NOT FOR ME ‼️💪🏻🗣️

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ynusername posted to story!

(caption: melbourne vlog out now on youtube, go watch!!)

15,221 replies

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"This thing better be working," could be heard slightly muffled in between vague shuffling sounds. After a second or two of incoherent noise, the camera footage finally came on. Y/N smiled at herself in the camera as the recording light blinked to life, and raised her hand victoriously. She grabbed the smile microphone in front of her and laughed, "It looks like everything is working. Thank God, I wouldn't have known how to fix it otherwise."

"Alright everybody, welcome to the first race weekend vlog hosted by me! Your favorite McLaren admin and social manager. It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to go about this, but now I think I settled on a format that will work," She explained as she walked around the small, clean kitchen that was within frame of the camera. She pulled a glass jar out of her cabinets and left it on the counter before pulling a jug of cold brew and a cartridge of milk out of her fridge.

"It is currently 7:30 A.M on March 29th, and I have a flight to Melbourne in 3 hours. I'm already packed and ready for this weekend, but I wanted to get an introduction filmed and I wanted to take a shower before I left." Y/N paused for a moment as she poured the coffee into her mason jar until she seemed satisfied and began to add some milk. "I am totally exhausted so this is probably cup one of like," she laughed, "I don't know seven probably. And this is a pretty big jar I won't lie."

"The race weekend doesn't technically start until Friday, so I'll be getting there a bit early, but I wanted to film some content before the race weekend gets really hectic, so McLaren is sending me a little bit earlier. I'm excited though! I love the heat, even if I live in London the antithesis of Australian weather," she taste-tested her coffee and hummed in delight.

"God I really never miss with this stuff," she said contently. "Anyway, it's a bit of an early start today, but I'll have plenty of time to sleep on the fight. I mean can you believe that London to Melbourne is a nearly 22 hours," she scoffed. "I vote that we start making all of the races in one place so I don't have to feel jet lag more painful than the force of 1,000 suns every other weekend. Not that I'm complaining," she chuckled awkwardly, "I love my job McLaren please don't fire me."

Abruptly an orange tabby cat came into the frame of the camera, causing Y/N to abruptly grab her glass jar in the hopes of avoiding a mess. She gasped, but laughed as the cat scampered off as quickly as it had come. She shook her head fondly.

"That, ladies and gentleman, was Cali! My cat. She's literally my baby, and I love her more than anything else on this earth. However, she does have an affinity for hitting things off of counters and breaking them. She also hates men and nearly all other animals, so she's basically the world's biggest hazard to society. She's a good girl, I love her." Y/N explained between sips of coffee as she stared wistfully past the the frame of the camera, where it could be assumed Cali had gone.

Abruptly an alarm went off and Y/N threw her head back with a groan.

"That means I have to get in the shower and get ready so I can leave on time," she said, before taking a few more sips of coffee. "I'm going to go do that, and the next time you'll hear my beautiful voice will be at the Melbourne Airport! Cue the travel montage!"

An assortment of clips follow. Y/N is seen dragging her luggage through Heathrow Airport. Y/N is seen ordering another coffee at the airport, finishing the coffee, and ordering another before her flight. Y/N is seen responding to emails from her airplane seat, editing video footage, and responding to instragram and twitter comments. Footage is shown outside the plane window of a cloudy, blue sky and a time lapse is shown as the sky grows beautiful shades of pink and red before becoming a starry-night sky. Y/N is seen cozy in a throw blanket and a travel pillow, presumably asleep with headphones on. Y/N is shown pulling her luggage through the airport once again, with a brand new coffee cup in hand. She smiles, taking a sip before she is seen settled down in a seat in the bustling airport.

"Twenty-two or so hours later and I have finally landed in Melbourne. I'm waiting for my Uber to get here so I can finally be taken to my hotel to drop my stuff off. I have a meeting with the McLaren drivers in two hours, but luckily I slept really well on the plane. I don't know how else I would be able to deal with Lando Norris. I'm going to finish this coffee in order to maximize my tolerance for the next few hours, but I suspect I'll be getting a new coffee before I reach that meeting. My addiction truly knows no bounds," she laughs, trying to ignore the people vaguely shown within frame that are staring at her speaking to a camera.

The camera cuts abruptly and the waiting screen from SpongeBob flashes on the screen, including the narrator's voice reading "2 hours later."

Y/N is shown once again in new clothes, a new coffee cup in hand, and luggage replaced by a small canvas bag. Her comfortable plane clothes have been swapped out for jean shorts and a plain white tank-top. Her hair is clipped back out of her face, and she is adorned with simple gold jewelry and light makeup.

Y/N smiles at the camera as she walks, bustling and talking heard around her, before whispering into the small microphone, "I have arrived at the McLaren garage. It is now time to meet with Lord Lando and workplace mascot Oscar Piastri," the titles slip off her tongue sarcastically and she doesn't bother suppressing an eye-roll.

In the next clip, Oscar and Lando are seen seated on either side of her as they sit in what seems like a board-room. Lando leans over and whispers something that the camera doesn't pick up and Oscar laughs while Y/N grimaces and reaches forward to readjust the camera. When the camera comes back on, Lando and Oscar are seated together on the left of Y/N as she faces on angle toward both them and the camera.

"Don't just sit there and look pretty, say hello to the camera boys," Y/N says and Oscar cackles at the disgruntled look on Lando's face.

"Is that your way of calling me pretty Y/N," Lando chokes out between laughs, and Y/N scoffs with an eye-roll.

"I was actually talking about Oscar, but whatever floats your little papaya boat Norris," Y/N deadpans and Oscar doubles over from the force of his laughter at the pout on Lando's face.

"That's not nice at all, I hope you know that. I think I am sitting here very prettily, thank you very much," Lando says, leaning into the girl next to him to speak into her microphone.

Y/N draws the microphone back, swatting him away, "Yes, yes quite prettily," Y/N mocks in a British accent.

Oscar, still trying to recover, joins in, "Pretty little Lando Norris," and Y/N laughs jovially, reaching across Lando as if the boy weren't there to high-five the Austrialian driver.

"Bullies, the lot of you," Lando mumbles and Y/N brushes off his comment without response before finally facing the camera.

"Anyway, welcome to the first McLaren race weekend vlog. I'm Y/N L/N, the best media manager in the whole god damn world, and this is Lando Norris, the biggest pain in my ass, and Oscar Piastri, the second biggest pain in my ass. How are you feeling about Melbourne boys?" Y/N questions, transitioning smoothly much to the British driver's chagrin.

"Feeling proud to be the second biggest pain in the ass and not the first. Probably the only time i've been glad to get second actually," Oscar comments and Y/N laughs as Lando shakes his head in disappointment.

"But in all seriousness it is good to be home, this is easily my favorite race of the year seeing as it's my home race and i'm looking forward to, hopefully, good results from our team," Oscar supplies and Y/N nods along to his words.

"Yes, Australia, we are in you and we are happy about it," both boys choked out a laugh at the manager's sexual innuendo and Oscar quickly covered his mouth with his hand so as not to react too much. "What about you Lando what are you feeling," Y/N questioned, leaning the small microphone to the boy.

"Feeling like that was a stupid joke. And also like I am going to be getting P1 this weekend. I can feel it in my bones."

"Leave my jokes alone Lando, you're not being paid to be a critic," she scoffed, "and if I recall, you said the same thing in Saudi Arabia not that long ago. What's changed now?"

Lando rolled his eyes, "What's changed is that we're in Australia now and I'm feeling much more confident."

"Well thank god for that," Y/N supplied unhelpfully as Oscar laughed.

"Now, what we really came here for, it's time to film a video for this channel, it's going to be a fan Q and A, I picked the questions. By the time this vlog is up, the QnA should've already been posted. So feel free to stop watching this and to go watch that or whatever," Y/N commented. "After that we're going to film a TikTok challenge," both and Lando and Oscar grimaced, but Y/N ignored their dismay at the idea of fiming yet another TikTok, so cue the montage! Filming time!" Y/N exclaimed and the screen transitioned to a new series of clips.

In the first clip Oscar and Lando were sitting in two chairs while Y/N sat across from them with a set of notecards.

"Lando, this question from user "ln4mania" asks, "Are you and admin actually friends? Or is the online beef real? The people demand answers!" Y/N reads off with a laugh.

"Do you hear that, the people demand answers Lando! Don't keep them waiting!" Oscar and Y/N laugh as Lando shakes his head and tucks his face into his hands.

"There is no beef, guys. Me and admin, or rather me and Y/N are just fine. We hadn't even actually met when that happened," Lando supplied between laughs. Y/N looked at the camera and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, faux-disagreeing with the boy.

She ignored the simmering pit of disappointment in her stomach. She did in fact have a problem with entitled little Lando Norris who still gave her side-eyed looks and judgmental stares whenever he saw her. If that wasn't humiliating enough, Oscar had clearly noticed it too, which just gave Y/N the feeling that she wasn't being taken seriously at all now that Oscar understood Lando's lack of respect for Y/N. However that didn't matter in the current moment. All that mattered was making this video.

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar sitting at a table with bowls of water in front of them and towels strewn across a chair just within frame of the camera. Y/N stood behind them, hands rested in their hair as she reacted to the prompts being read by someone, an unnamed media intern, off-camera.

"Who is harder to make videos with?" The intern asked and Y/N huffed out a laugh as she let her hands fully grasp Lando's curls and push him into the water quickly. He sputtered, trying to blink the water out of his eyes as Y/N laughed at the wet-puppy dog look he was sporting.

Y/N tried to shake the ridiculous desire to let her hands run through the soft curls underneath her finger tips. Curse Lando and whatever stupidly good, rich-person hair routine he used that made him smell good and look good, and... whatever.

Lando, blinking water out of his eyes, was now undoubtedly certain that being damn-near waterboarded was worth it if it meant that Y/N would laugh like that again. He knew Oscar would harass him again later for being "down-bad" or something along those lines- as he had done every time he caught the man staring-, but as he caught a glimpse of Y/N's bright smile and shaking shoulders, he found he didn't really care.

The next clip showed Oscar, Lando, Y/N, and a laughing media intern as they all dried off- somehow all having become wet through the course of filming. Y/N dried herself off quickly, taking a sip of her newly refilled coffee, not seeing the way that only the camera and Oscar saw Lando stared at her until the driver was nudged back into focus on drying himself off.

A title-card once again came on the screen with white words on a photo collage of Australian grand-prix candids that Y/N had taken, reading "Race montage? More likely than you'd think."

Footage was shown of the free practice sessions. Oscar and Lando getting in and out of their cars. Engineers along the pit wall going over data. The team speaking incoherently, going over the game plan for Sunday's race. Oscar and Lando greeting fans, signing merch, and posing for photos. Y/N smiling and waving at a cheering crowd of people before staring at the camera incredulously with a small caption reading: "Omg she's famous your honor". More clips showed Lando laughing as Oscar tossed grapes and Lando moved to catch them with his mouth. Lando nearly choking as Y/N cackled in the background. Multiple clips showing Y/N with a fresh coffee, and another... and another, as Oscar's face in the background grew with concern. Zak Brown explaining to Y/N the dangers of caffeine overdose, and the need for moderation. Y/N explaining to Zak Brown that without coffee she would simply collapse and die, which the camera showed did nothing to ease her concern. Y/N getting caps signed by the drivers for fans and walking away with intricate friendship bracelets decorating her wrists.

And finally footage of the race. The engineers in the garage. The pit-crew changing tires. The cars racing past as Y/N watched attentively. Footage of the crowd as they cheered when the cars whizzed past. Smiling faces of fans. Y/N's cheers as Oscar and Lando passed. The smiling faces of McLaren employees as Lando and Oscar crossed the checkered flag in P6 and P8 respectively.

Y/N accepting hugs from both drivers, ignoring the burning sensation in her stomach as Lando wrapped his arms around her with a smile and a laugh. Y/N calling Lando smelly and telling him to go wash off if he wants to hug her next time, and him rolling his eyes at her fondly before making a face at the camera. The podium celebration is shown and Y/N smiles as the anthem plays, even though it's not for her own team.

The final clip is shown of Y/N in her hotel room, comfortable in sweats as she sits on the unmade bed.

"Not bad results this week guys! P6 for Lando and P8 for Oscar, which are good points for the team. I'm happy on my end, I think we got some good content filmed, and I am now ready to go to sleep so I can get home to Cali and my own bed quicker. I hope you enjoyed this video, and if you didn't don't tell me because I don't care!" Y/N jokes with a smile.

"Hopefully I will see you all at the next race, if not the race after that! Bye papaya fans, and be sure to follow us on instagram and all of the other social platforms!" Y/N exclaimed, gesturing to the list of the social media handles that appeared on her right hand side.

And with that, the camera cut to black.

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liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 29,145 others

ynusername afraid to report that i fought jetlag and lost 😔 i did sleep for 25 hours straight after melbourne and i had no clue where i was when i woke up! shout out cali for waking me up 🙏🏼 best friend frl

9,547 comments

bsfusername i'm going to try not to be offended by that caption (love you bb cali) but FUCK YOU CAUSE I BOUGHT YOUR ASS BREAKFAST

ynusername my bad! s/o to that bomb ass omlette 🤩

bsfusername never doing shit for you again

user34 that vlog was god tier, how long did that take

ynusername it took 7 hours of editing and years off my life, thanks so much for asking 🥳

maxverstappen1 thanks again for those podium photos! you have a gift for photography 💪🏻

ynusername don't mention it! 👍🏼

ynusername (no seriously, mclaren might behead me)

mclaren beheading is so last year. firing squad. 🗣️

user35 not y/n threatening herself 💀

oscarpiastri suprised your body didn't naturally wake up for coffee

ynusername it did! just 25 hours later

user36 your poor cat was literally starving for a whole day? youre a horrible owner

ynusername let me introduce you to god's greatest creation: the automatic feeder!!! i'm sure they can mail one to whatever fucking rock you live under!

user37 PERIODDDD

user38 me personally? i'd never log on again

user39 she needs a personal channel 🙏🏼🙏🏼 i'd subscribe

user40 her cat is so cute 😭😭😭 gimme that

ynusername 🫵 STAY BACK HEATHEN, NO ONE TOUCHES CALI AND LIVES

user40 my bad fam 🧍🏻‍♀️

user41 i want someone to love me as much as she loves that mean ass cat

landonorris don't you have a job to be doing 💀💀 she slept through a full work day

user42 lando always on her ass and for whattttt

user43 obsessed obsessed obsessed

ynusername i had the day off! but not the guy who was streaming video games coming for me 🥱 talking bout get a job

user44 lando and y/n beefing on insta again? we're so back

user45 at this point instagram comment beef isn't enough, they need to duel or some shit

user46 the caffeine addiction almost got her guys

ynusername i wish it would, then i wouldn't have to work with lando's annoying ass

landonorris I CAN SEE YOUR COMMENTS???

ynusername THAT'S THE POINT

user47 honestly just give her a gun atp, these men test her too damn much

━━━━━━ ༻✩₊⋆☾⋆⁺✧༺ ━━━━━━

user48 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S RIGHT HERE

user49 no fr, like let's get back to bed grandma

user50 OP, are you concussed?

user51 no actually cause didn't y/n just say she wanted to khs working with him 💀💀

pastryboy81 that sign can't stop me, because i can't read!

user53 OK I ACTUALLY SEE THE VISION

user54 ARE YOUR EYES CLOSED???!1!1

user55 i fear i totally get it 😔

user56 it's giving enemies to lovers, secret relationship type vibe lowkkkk

user57 no deadass like he hugged her reallll tight

user58 she also hugged oscar 😭😭?? and he has a whole gf

user59 the way she shoved him off and told him he reeked not 5 seconds after 💀 delusion is a disease yall

user60 someone call the f1 gossip pages cause 😗

user61 more like someone call the ward cause somethings real off with yall 🤨

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━━━━━━ ༻✩₊⋆☾⋆⁺✧༺ ━━━━━━

sorry that this update took forever, i had surgery and recovery has been rougher than i expected! hope you enjoy!!

please leave your thoughts in the comments and feel free to drop a request for your fav in my asks <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[luvvictoria]

Fav Nanny - Poly!TF141

+ pairings. poly!tf141 x f!reader

+ tags. Mom Friend!Reader, Reader Loves Kids, TF141 Malfunctioning Over Reader, “Good Boy” Kink (Unintentional?), Size Difference Kink (You vs. The Massive TF141 Men), "Sweetheart, I Hope You're Not Too Tired" (THE LINE THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING), Slow Burn to Absolute Filth, HEADCANONS !!

+ a/n. Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you in advance!!

+ summary. Lethal on the battlefield, soft as silk off-duty—Reader is TF141’s deadliest soldier and the sweetest nanny. The contrast wrecks them. One minute, she’s snapping necks; the next, she’s rocking a baby to sleep. Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price are obsessed—hopeless, hungry, and ready to ruin her.

+ support me ✰ .ᐟ buy me a coffee I Instagram

Ohhh, I love this concept! A TF141!Fem!Reader who’s a badass soldier on the battlefield but in her spare time, she’s the ultimate sweetheart, taking care of kids as a nanny? Adorable.

Now, if we’re turning this into poly!TF141, that means Soap, Ghost, Gaz, and Price all got their eyes on her. And the spice? Oh, I can see it now—

The Duality That Drives Them Crazy

Soap: “How the fuck do you go from making men piss themselves in fear to cooing at a baby like an angel?”

Gaz: “It’s actually terrifying. Do it again.”

Ghost: Quietly obsessed, silently suffering.

Price: Takes a long, long drag of his cigar and looks away before his thoughts get inappropriate.

On the field? She’s a force of nature, ruthless and efficient. Precision shots, quick thinking, and absolutely fearless.

Off the field? She’s all gentle smiles, soothing words, and warm hugs—the kind of woman who rocks a baby to sleep after a mission like she didn’t just take down a whole enemy squad.

The 141 boys are obsessed with this contrast. It borders on worship.

Moments That Would Make Them Weak

💥 Soap: Watching her discipline a kid—firm but loving—and he suddenly wonders how she’d be if he was being bratty. (He definitely tests that later.) 💥 Ghost: Sees her gently humming a lullaby to a crying child. That soft voice, that warmth… He’s never been jealous of a kid before, but damn. 💥 Gaz: Catches her casually lifting a toddler up with one arm and then later that day, flipping a full-grown man over her shoulder. He is down bad. 💥 Price: Has a very inappropriate thought when she presses a baby to her chest, bouncing them gently, and he has to physically leave the room.

Spicing It Up

One night, after a mission, they find her half-asleep on the couch, a baby monitor in her lap, dressed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt. The urge to ruin her is strong.

She’s scolding Soap and Gaz after a reckless mission, and Ghost and Price exchange a look because that stern voice? That commanding presence? … Yeah, they feel things.

Imagine her in a sundress, barefoot, holding a baby on her hip, and one of the guys just loses his self-control completely.

How spicy are we talking? Because this could go so many directions.

Spicy Headcanons 🔥

The First Time They See Her in Full Nanny Mode

They come back from a mission, exhausted, ready to crash—only to walk in on her in a sundress, barefoot, holding a baby on her hip.

Soap fucking CHOKES on his drink.

Gaz deadass forgets how to breathe.

Ghost freezes mid-step, completely malfunctioning.

Price? That man has to take a SEAT.

She’s just rocking the baby gently, humming a lullaby, and then she looks up and goes: “Oh! You’re back! Want some tea?” …They want something else.

The First Time They Hear Her Scold a Kid

They always assumed she was soft, but then they see her disciplining a kid—

Voice stern, eyes sharp, arms crossed.

Soap is suddenly wondering how she’d sound scolding him.

Gaz is sweating.

Ghost is dangerously quiet.

Price is reevaluating his entire life.

Soap leans over to Gaz and whispers: “Imagine her saying ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’” Gaz: “I’d fucking CRY.”

When She Calls Them “Good Boys” Without Realizing It

She’s used to praising kids, so it just slips out.

Soap helps her with groceries? “Thanks, Johnny, you’re such a good boy.”

Gaz fixes her car? “Aw, Kyle, good boy!”

Ghost carries something heavy for her? “You’re so strong, Si, good boy.”

Price pays for their food? “Such a gentleman, good boy.”

IMMEDIATE MALFUNCTION. 🛑

Soap drops the bag and stares at her like she just committed a war crime.

Gaz literally turns red. Neck, ears, everything.

Ghost? You cannot tell me that man doesn’t shudder just a little.

Price fucking growls.

The Sundress Incident™

Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price are chilling outside when you walk in wearing a tiny, flowy sundress.

You don’t realize you're basically tempting fate itself.

Bending over to pick something up? That dress lifts just a little too much.

Soap makes a noise. A deep, feral noise.

Gaz has to grip his beer like a lifeline.

Ghost literally stops breathing.

Price is white-knuckling his glass.

“What?” you ask, oblivious. Soap, voice rough: “…Nothing, lass. Absolutely fuckin’ nothing.”

The Night They All Lose Their Self-Control

It happens after a mission. You're tired, in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, curled up on the couch.

You're watching TV, hair messy, half-asleep.

The boys come in, sweaty, exhausted, ready to shower—and they see you like that.

Legs bare. Shirt slipping off one shoulder.

Thighs pressing together absentmindedly.

Soft, sleepy voice: “Mmm… you boys okay?”

🛑 IT’S OVER. 🛑

Soap sits down next to her, close enough that their thighs touch. Gaz leans against the couch, watching her with dark eyes. Ghost doesn’t sit. He stands, watching. Staring.

Price exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw, because he knows EXACTLY where this is going.

She looks at them—blinking, confused.

Soap smirks.

Gaz’s lips twitch.

Ghost’s fingers flex at his sides.

Price simply says, “Sweetheart, I hope you’re not too tired.”

[droopycoquette]

Ridin' or Nothin' || Benny Cross x Reader

Summary: A little exchange of services

Warnings: hella fluff, angst, suggestive content

Word count: 5.1k

|*|

You had been watching him, that much you could admit. Your eyes always caught him on the road, riding around with the wind in his hair. Sometimes you’d even see him walking around with a cigarette tucked between his slightly chapped lips, he was rarely without one. He exuded a sense of danger that both intrigued and scared you. But there was something about the way he moved, rough yet graceful, that made your heart skip a beat whenever he passed by. However, you never dared to approach him, always hiding in the background observing.

You didn’t mind, it was comfortable.

The town was small so it was easy to watch him. Easy to find him even because he was always in the same places. Bar, road, gas station, and occasionally grocery store. That last one was rare though. When you saw him across the aisle looking at bread, you thought you were hallucinating.

It was a rather strange sight; he looked so out of place. A tall, blonde biker in a grocery store with mothers and children, casually looking at bread. You would have giggled if you weren’t so nervous. Your lips slightly parted as you lost motor control of your body, the bag of rolls you held falling out of your hands.

“Shoot,” you muttered as you quickly bent down to pick them, trying to prevent the weird looks from staying on you.

You chuckled nervously as you rose up, giving timid looks to the grandmas and moms looking at you.

“Hello dear,” a high-pitched voice greeted cheerfully, forcing you to shift focus.

Turning around, you came face to face with Mrs. Leonard, a regular at your family’s bakery. She was an older lady having several grandkids that she loved to gush about. But, despite being older, she still had strength that astounded you greatly. You weren’t surprised to see her here, just bummed that she was here now, the only time you had seen biker boy here.

“Hello, Mrs. Leonard,” you smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, likewise,” she smiled back sweetly. “What are you doing looking at rolls, sweety? I couldn’t imagine buying rolls here when I could have yours to eat for free.”

You smile at her compliment, your ears warming.

“I was simply looking. I’m actually looking for ingredients. I’m trying a new recipe for a raspberry curd cake. How’s your son? I heard he’s back in town.”

“That sounds mighty tasty. And oh, he is just wonderful. It’s so nice to see my grandkids. Ya know, ever since they moved to California-”

And she was off. You liked Mrs. Leonard, truly you did, but you could never get used to her never-ending monologues about who-knows-what. She was a cute old lady, though.

As she spoke, you moved to put the rolls back on the shelf, and when you turned to look back at the biker, he was gone. A small crease in between your eyebrows developed as your bottom lip found its way between your teeth. You nibbled on it as you felt disappointment wash over you. However, you quickly masked it with a well-practised smile.

As you wandered the store next to the old lady, your mind wandered back to the handsome biker who had been standing right across the aisle. You perked up slightly as you realised that that was the closest you had ever been to him. You could practically smell the gasoline and cologne that wafted off of him. You had even seen the small freckles on his face and took note of his faint sun-kissed cheeks, just the slightest bit of pink.

This was also the first time you’d seen him without a cigarette.

You felt a tug at the corner of your lips that only stopped when you rubbed it away.

“Dear? Hello? Bun!”

Your eyes snapped to Mrs. Leonard, hearing the nickname given to you by your family.

“Are you alright, bun,” she asked, placing a hand over yours. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Oh. Yes ma’am. I’m quite alright, just a bit tired is all. No need to worry. What was that you were saying?”

“Oh, yes! Monti, the dreadful boy has been tearing at-”

Her story continued on until you had finished checking out and had to part ways. And when your back hit the seat of your car you let out the biggest sigh of the week. What was supposed to have been a ten-minute grocery run for fresh raspberries and lemon juice had turned into a 45-minute gossiping session. The energy that was supposed to be used to bake that new raspberry curd cake had been exerted to try to keep up with Mrs. Leonard. Now, you’d have to pull from nothing.

Your head slammed into the steering wheel with a groan that was quickly replaced with a yelp when your car horn went off. People entering and exiting the store turned to look at your car in confusion and slight offence.

“Sorry,” you chuckled timidly.

|*|

The next day rolled around, and you were excited to put out your new Raspberry Delight, which is what you had decided to call your new cake. You had been experimenting with this cake for the past two weeks, figuring out what to layer, and how sweet the raspberry curd should be. Should they have a raspberry jam? Was that too much? Perhaps, a layer of crumble? But, last night, you had perfected everything and had gotten the green light from both your mother and your father to sell.

You had decided to sell it in these cute mason jars and had personally tied the little maroon bows on it. You were setting out the last of the baked goods into the little window by the register when the doorbell rang, letting you know that someone had entered the store.

“Good morning,” you greeted cheerfully, from below the register, setting the dirty trays there.

“Good morning,” a gruff voice spoke.

You stood abruptly.

He was here.

Tall, dark, and handsome was here…right in front of you.

You, who probably has flour all over her and who is sweating from the ovens.

“What can I get for you today,” you say softly, looking down and wiping your hands on your apron.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you yesterday, about the raspberry…something cake. It sounded mighty good and I thought I would come by and get it before it sold out.”

“You were listening,” you let out, surprised.

“I sure was missy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something so tasty,” he admits with a sly smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his statement.

“Okay, one Raspberry Delight, anything else?”

“Is there anything else you would recommend?”

As you let yourself think, the man let himself look at you. You didn’t notice, but the biker’s eyes never left you and one thing he noticed was that your eyes never met his. He didn’t like that. He wanted to look at him. He needed you to look at him.

He saw your eyes light up as you thought of something, making the man smile. And just as you were about to speak, a sharp voice interrupted

“Excuse me.”

The sharpness in your mother’s tone made you bite at the inside of your cheek.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the man smiled politely, despite her cold demeanour.

“We don’t serve customers like you,” your mother bit.

You knew your mother’s opinion on the growing biker gang in town. Your father and your mother both thought that the group of men were a bunch of bums who had no right to be causing such a fuss. They hated The Vandals, almost as much as satan. You recalled nights at the dinner table where your father's anger had boiled over, making him claim to do awful things to the biker gang. What’s worse, your mother had egged him on.

The man’s smile faltered at your mother’s words, but he recovered quickly.

“I just wanted to buy a cake,” he said calmly.

You could see the tension in his posture, the way his eyes flickered between your mother and you.

“Mom,” you said softly. “You always say business is business.”

“Well, this is MY business,” she snapped. “And I reserve the right to refuse service. Get out of my store.”

You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you - frustration at your mother’s closed-mindedness, and sympathy for the man standing in front of you.

Your eyes met his, and you hoped that he could understand the apology. He nodded towards you, and you watched his jaw feather in annoyance. You felt your heart drop at the realisation that he might blame you.

“I’ll take my leave then,” he said, walking away as he took a cigarette out of the box.

“Yeah, you go on now,” your mother sneered, causing you to flinch.

He didn’t respond as the doorbell dinged.

You watched as the man walked away, his back straight and his steps purposeful. You couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders.

You swallowed in disappointment in yourself and your lack of ability to stand up to your mother and in your mother for her lack of empathy and kindness.

“Don’t you ever talk to them folks again? Ya hear?”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut you off. “You so much as go near them, and I’ll make sure you don’t leave the house again. You understand me, girl.”

You just looked down, and your mother took that as a yes. She went back to the kitchen, muttering obscenities under her breath, and you went back to setting up for the day, now with a heavy heart.

As the day went on, you found it difficult to concentrate on the daily operations of the bakery. Your hands moved mechanically as you went through the motions of baking, but your heart was heavy with a mix of curiosity and guilt. Each served customer was a reminder of the one you couldn’t serve, the very one you wanted to the most.

“Hey,” your dad said softly. “What’s going on in your head bun?”

“Oh, nothing,” you smiled sweetly, perfectly masking your growing frustration with your parents, the town, and life in general. “Just a little tired is all. I stayed up late trying to come up with a new thing to work on and now that the raspberry cake is done I need something new. I’m going to go make a new batch of the Raspberry Delights.”

You tightened the scarf around your head as you walked back to the kitchen to grab the fresh tray of cookies that needed icing.

“Okay,” your dad called. “But focus! We don’t need you burning yourself again because you were off in Neverland.”

You knew he was joking, but it did nothing but jab the knife a little deeper.

As you began making the base for the cake, you found yourself wondering why you bothered to stay. It was your baked goods in the window, and yet, it was their name on the sign, getting the money, and it was them making fun of you.

Every time you brought up the fact that you wanted a portion of the profits because they were selling your ideas, they had a fit and said, “Your baking isn’t even that good. Since you now have a couple of things in the window, you think you can call the shots, huh? Is that what it is? Well, maybe we’ll just take them out.”

It was empty threats, and you knew it was, your items were some of the best sellers, but it never stopped the fear that entered your system. However, the thought that you might never leave and be stuck here with parents who don’t respect you or your creations scared you more.

A newfound determination lit up in your gut as you baked.

That evening, after closing up, you told your parents you wanted to work on a new pastry that you’d been thinking about and that you’d meet them at home. They had been hesitant but let you stay in the end, telling you to be careful on your way back. You waited a good 20 minutes to make sure they weren’t coming back before gathering up your things and the two freshly made Raspberry Delight jars and locking up the store.

The cool night air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, your heartbeat quickening. You hopped on your bike and threw your bag in the basket, careful not to break the glass before you took off down the road. Even a couple of blocks down, you could hear the rumble of engines and the faint sound of laughter from the home of the town’s biker gang.

As you approached the bar, you hesitated, hopping off your bike that suddenly felt childish next to the rows of motorcycles. You could hear the whooping and hollering of the men inside and jumped when you heard the sound of shattering glass followed by laughter.

Your breath left you in small huffs as the chilly night air nipped at your cheeks. The two jars in your bag hit each other softly, causing a ‘clink’ to echo through the empty space. It also caused a surge of resolve. You jogged up to the doors before the newfound confidence disappeared and opened them gently. You entered the bar without making a sound and closed the doors even softer than you had opened them.

The dimly lit bar was crowded with rowdy bikers, their denim jackets adorned with patches and studs that allowed the light to glint off of them. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. As you stood there, taking it all in, you could also smell the distinct scent of leather and engine oil.

As you make your way through the crowd, you try to avoid making eye contact, feeling small and out of place.

Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention.

That mantra in your head continued as you hugged your bag close and made yourself small. Navigating the crowded bar proved to be rather difficult, especially when you were trying not to hit anyone. A plethora of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ left your lips before you reached an empty table in the back. You sit your bag down and allowed yourself to breathe as best you could anyway, the taste of smoke filled your mouth, making it dry and slightly bitter. You try to swallow, but the air feels too thick and heavy to allow it.

The dim, hazy lighting of the bar, combined with the smoke from cigarettes and the bodies, made it difficult to see clearly. People pressed close together, their limbs hitting one another.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. You had worn a corduroy skirt that day and, if that wasn’t bad enough, a pastel blue halter accompanied it. If ‘Look at Me’ had a mascot, it’d be you.

The tips of your ears burned as your eyes scanned the crowd of bikers. Normally, you could find tall and blonde easily but, in this crowd, it was like trying to find a needle in a needle stack.

However, after about 10 minutes of searching, you found him near the pool table. His eyes fixed on the green felt with an intensity that you could feel from all the way across the room.

You allowed yourself to just stare, taking in his rugged appearance that finally seemed to fit into his surroundings. His arms were on full display, and the light caught the ridges of his muscles in a sinfully perfect way. His hair was tousled and swooped up as if the wind had permanently swept it there. The thought made you giggle. You took in his tattoos, his rings, and the grease stains his shirt housed. The stains alone sent you to a whole daydream.

Visions of him fixing a motorcycle, his muscles moving seamlessly as he worked. His focus fixed on the machinery, understanding the beauty and power of the bike, and knowing exactly what it needed. A playful smile on his lips as he caressed the engine. The sunlight catching the sweat glistening on his skin, highlighting every curve and ridge of his body. His strong hands, covered in grease, as he worked with precision and finesse. The occasional grunt or sigh as he exerts force in just the right places. Every now and then, he let out a satisfied chuckle as he successfully fixes a part.

Before you knew it, you had replaced the motorcycle.

You let out a squeak at your own imagination. Causing heads to turn towards you. For once, you didn’t notice because you were too busy mentally beating yourself.

You had to give him these cakes before you embarrassed yourself even more.

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves before making your way over to him, each step feeling heavier with the weight of uncertainty.

As you approached, he finally tore his gaze away from the pool table and locked eyes with you. There was a flicker of surprise in his expression, quickly masked by a guarded demeanour. You could sense the tension in his posture as you stood before him, unsure of how he would react to your presence.

He walked toward you, cue stick in hand. His piercing blue eyes bore into yours as he got closer.

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart,” he asked, his gruff voice filling your senses. He leaned against the cue stick, bringing him closer to you. Even hunched over he looked down at you, you had never felt so small.

"I... I brought you these," you stammered out, holding out the two jars of Raspberry Delights towards him. "What happened at the bakery earlier wasn't right and I’m ashamed that I just stood by and let it happen. Please accept them as an apology."

He studied you for a moment, his face contorting slightly as a myriad of emotions flickered. Finally, he reached out and took the jars from your shaky hands.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze softening.

You nodded with a smile, clasping your hands together and letting out a breath of relief. You rocked back and forth on your feet as you realised that you hadn’t planned out a conversation in your head. You had no clue what to say to the man standing in front of you.

As you struggled to find the right words, only two came out:

“Okay bye.”

You were moving before you could register, bolting out of the crowded bar and into the crisp air of the night. You allowed yourself to breathe in deeply, filling your lungs fully for the first time since you entered the bar. It was also easier to breathe without him being near.

You swallowed as you stood straight up and shuffled towards your bike. Your lip found its place between your teeth while you replayed the interaction in your head. You shrunk into yourself at how you acted. You had dreamed of an interaction with tall and blond for months, given him numerous names that never seemed to fit. You had thought about wowing him with a quick tongue and a perfected sense of humour. But, when it came down to it, you chickened out. You literally ran away.

You reached your bike, which now seemed extra childish coming out of the bar. Now that you think about it, you’ve never been so close to a motorcycle before, only looking from afar. The need to inspect the bike tugged at your heart. It didn’t take much for you to give in.

You reached out and let your fingertips graze the frame of the bike, collecting the dirt that had found a home on the metal. Your eyes trailed the winding metal of the interior, wondering what each thing did. You could smell the gasoline and faintly taste metal on the tip of your tongue, and you smiled at its slight sweetness.

“You like bikes?”

Your hands flinched back as if the bike itself had spoken and your eyes went to the voice.

“Um,” you stuttered as you were met with tall and blond. “I, uh, I don’t have an opinion on them. They’re pretty though.”

“Pretty?” he chuckled, flicking the butt of the cigarette to the ground.

“Mmhmm. I’ve never seen one up close before. I apologise for touching them, it won’t happen again.”

“Calm down,” he smiled. “You look like I’m about to cut your hand off.”

You swallowed thickly and dusted off the dirt your fingertips had collected.

“Come here.”

His tone was friendly and inviting yet commanding, so you followed him over to a particular motorcycle that he leaned against.

“This one’s yours?” you asked/stated.

He just smiled a crooked smile and nodded.

“You can inspect to your heart's content, little miss.”

You feel a familiar tug at your lips as you let yourself circle the bike. It was a lot nicer than the last one, in your opinion. The black colour of the fenders matched tall and blonde, and the framework looked well-loved. You allowed your fingers to touch the bike, letting them trail down the seat until they reached the end of the bike and fell off.

“Hey, listen,” his voice making you snap your eyes to him. “How ‘bout as payment for the cakes, I take you on a ride?”

Your heart jumped into your throat, “Oh, I could never. I’m happy to watch from a distance.”

“Oh,” he feigned a pout as you walked back to where he was leaning. “Well then miss, I hate to say this but I can’t accept these.”

He pulled out a jar from each of his pockets and presented them to you.

“What?” you looked at the cakes and then back at him, offence displaying itself on your features.

“You heard me,” he smirked. “It wouldn’t be right. You put an awful lotta work into these cakes, you can’t just be given ‘em away.”

You bit your lip at the predicament in frustration and furrowed your eyebrows. The tall man raised an eyebrow and fought a smile that told you he was enjoying this.

“So, you’re saying if I let you give me a ride…you’ll take the cakes?”

“Yes I am, miss,” he confirms. “It would be my pleasure.”

An internal battle raged in you, but all you had to do was glance at the look on his face. The thrill of the unknown mingled with the warmth of his smile was enough to make your heart race. His eyes housed a genuine want, a need, and far be it from you to deny him. The “battle” was over before it even started.

“Fine, yeah, okay,” you relented.

His grin widened as he got on and gestured for you to hop on behind him. You couldn’t contain the flutter of excitement as you settled onto the motorcycle. The engine roared to life beneath you, vibrating with power and promise, mirroring your heartbeat.

“Hold on to me,” he instructed.

You swallowed before wrapping your arms around him gingerly, really your arms formed a ring around him, not touching him at all.

“You’ll need to hold on a little tighter, miss,” he chuckled.

Slowly, your arms tightened around him, a little too slow for him apparently because he kicked off suddenly causing you to grip him harshly.

“You jerk,” you shouted, as the wind nipped against your skin.

You couldn’t hear it but could feel the laugh the man in front of you let out, his strong back convulsing in a familiar rhythm. Your cheek was pressed against the denim of his jacket, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Lights and corn fields passed by in a blurry mix, and soon the stars were the only thing you could see clearly.

His rythmatic breathing brought a smile to your lips, and you could picture the look of pure serenity on his face. His cologne mixed with cigarettes and gasoline became one you already missed as you breathed in deeply, savouring every moment.

You understood now, the feeling The Vandals sought out, it was peace. It was forgetting everything and giving it all to the road ahead of them. The thrill of speed coursed through your veins, exhilarating and freeing. You held on to the man in front of you, feeling the powerful rumble of the motorcycle beneath you as it devoured the distance.

Every now and again he would look back to check on you, and every time you’d give him the same reassuring nod that let him know you were doing okay.

As you rode deeper into the night, a sense of liberation washed over you. The worries and insecurities that had plagued your mind earlier faded into the background, replaced by a sense of adventure and possibility. The road stretched out before you like an endless ribbon, beckoning you to explore its twists and turns.

However, it was over too soon. Before long, you had found your way back to the biker gang’s bar.

He finally came to a stop in a small open space, the engine purring to a halt. You untangled yourself from him, stepping off the bike with shaky legs.

You turned to face him, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. His eyes bore into yours, a mix of mystery and need.

“Thank you,” you beamed. “That was wonderful.”

“My pleasure miss,” he grins back, a hint of sadness flashing across his face as he got off the bike.

“I’m jealous,” you admitted, watching as took off his gloves. “You get to do that every day.”

“You could too,” he says before he could catch himself, leaning against it. “If you wanted to.”

“That would be amazing,” you say, rocking back and forth on your toes in thought.

The man smiled at your frame, admiring the way you could disappear into your head at the drop of a hat.

“Oh,” you snapped out of your reverie, shocking the man before you. “Now you have to eat the cake.”

“What,” he deadpanned.

“You have to eat the cake,” you repeated. “I kept my end of the deal now you keep yours.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Here,” you say, pulling a spoon from your bag.

“I don’t know where that spoon had been,” he smirks.

“Can you just try it,” you mumbled. “I want to see if you like it.”

He couldn’t say no to you even if he wanted to.

Putting the spoon in his mouth, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the jars of Raspberry Delights. As he twists it open he swears he sees your eyes widen, and he has to stop himself from blushing at your eagerness.

You're practically bouncing while you watch him dip the spoon into the cake and put it to his lips. You hold your breath as he takes it in.

His brows furrow before he breaks out into a smile.

“That’s fucking delicious,” he lets out. “It's not too sweet, which I like.”

He watches as you glow brighter at the compliments.

“I’m glad you like it,” you sigh, looking at the ground in shyness.

“I love it, little miss,” he corrects, as he takes another spoonful of the raspberry cake into his mouth. “Now, I’m jealous. You get to eat these all the time.”

“I can fix that,” you giggle, and before you can think you're cleaning the corner of his mouth with your thumb lovingly.

As you begin to retract your hand, he grabs hold of it, keeping your hand on his face. His eyes watched you intently. There was a raw intensity in them, a fire that burned bright against the darkness. His rough fingers smoothed out yours so that you were caressing his face, his hand still covering yours.

You were so shocked and entranced by the touch that you didn’t notice his tongue darting out to clean your thumb.

A yelp echoed through the night as he sucked on the leftover raspberry cream, your skin prickling with a sudden heat. His eyes remained trained on yours, a twinge of playfulness circling his irises. He observed your gaze fall to where his tongue connected with your finger. He watched as your lips parted in concentration and curiosity.

He loved that look, the eagerness in your eyes to see what would happen next. He also loved the power you gave him in the moment, the trust you gave him to guide you.

He wanted more. He craved more. He craved you.

Your eyes flickered to his as he released your hand and reached out to caress your face. The rough calluses of his hand actually felt nice against your soft cheeks and, unconsciously, you leaned into it. The gesture brought a loving smile to his face.

He set the jar of raspberry cake on the back of his bike and let his hand fall to the small of your waist, pulling you closer. The gasp you let out only fueled his growing need for you. Your chest rose and fell against him and you felt the tips of your ears beginning to burn. The focus in his gaze made you feel like the only girl in the world, and that terrified you. At that moment, the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was look down or away from him, but the hand on your cheek didn’t allow it.

“Can I kiss you miss?” he breathed out, already bringing you closer.

“Please,” you let out, surprising yourself.

He didn't waste another second and closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent, intoxicating kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away as you melted into each other, a whirlwind of passion and desire consuming every inch of your being.

His kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced before, a mixture of roughness and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. You found yourself lost in the moment, your hands instinctively clinging onto his jacket as he deepened the kiss, his demeanour shifting from playful to intense.

As the kiss lingered, time seemed to stand still. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms beneath the moonlit sky. The night air crackled with electricity, and you could feel the heat radiating between you as if it were its own entity.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless and flushed, your chests rising and falling in sync. His eyes bore into yours, lips falling into a smile.

“I’m, uh, I’m Benny,” he stuttered, his cheeks becoming a slight pink.

“Hello Benny,” you giggle at his sudden show of shyness. “Everyone calls me Bun.”

|*|

A/n: first time writing for Austin!! Feedback is welcomed. Hope you enjoyed!!

[cameronsprincess]

Hi angel 🖤 can you do a fic or a blurb of baby daddy!Rafe who isn't with reader but still sees her as his regardless? Jealousy, Smut anything you're willing to write

Pls pretty pls

baby daddy!rafe is so sexy to me, add in them not being together but him still being possessive and jealous! yeah! sign me tf up!!

CW: smut! 18+ only! baby daddy!rafe, mean!possessive!rafe, strong language, rafe gets slightly physical with someone, public sex, choking, backshots, maybe slight breeding kink (rafe threatens to put another baby in you).

masterlists

the night had been going well, your baby was with your mom, and you were out with some friends, trying to let loose from the long week you’d had. you’re sitting at the bar, drink in hand when a man approaches you, charming smile played on his lips.

“hey there, pretty. can i buy you a drink?”

you bite your bottom lip, your friends giggling behind you before they saunter off to the dance floor, leaving you alone with the man. giving him a coy smile, you nod your head, “sure, why not?”

he smiles widely, waving the bartender down before asking what you’d like and placing the order. the bartender quickly makes your drink, handing it to you as the man pays and tips her. his attention is fully on you once again.

“my names adam,” he says with that same pretty smile, holding his hand out for you to take. you gently place your hand in his, sipping at your drink as you introduce yourself.

he smiles at the sound of your name, his pretty green eyes burning into you as you continue sipping on your rum and coke. “so, what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ here all by herself?” adam asks, scooting himself closer, his right hand finding your bare thigh.

you slightly tense at his touch, but quickly let it go, deciding to play along and see where the night goes. you open your mouth to reply, but an all too familiar deep voice cuts in.

“she’s not here alone, and you’re touching something that doesn’t belong to you.”

your face turns bright red, cussing under your breath at the sound of your baby daddy’s voice. rafe cameron. why is he everywhere you are?

you turn in your seat, eyes landing on rafe’s blue ones. he stares down at you, a lopsided smirk on his lips before he returns his stare to adam, expression turning angry. adam chuckles, removing his hand from your leg before he stands, matching rafe’s stance.

“she never told me she was here with anyone, even let me buy her a drink.. so, does she really belong to you, buddy?”

rafe lets out a dark laugh, quickly grabbing adam by his shirt collar and pushing him into the bar, stools being knocked to the ground in the process.

“first off, i’m not your ‘buddy’, and secondly, she’s the mother to my daughter, so, you wanna ask me something fuckin’ stupid again?”

you try and push your way between the two men, but it’s no use, rafe is a brick wall, unmoving. rafe shoots you a look that says ‘sit back down’ and you quickly obey. why does he still have this kind of control over you? it’s been seven months since the two of you split up, you left him when your daughter was two months old because he wasn’t good to you, but yet, every day since then, he’s everywhere you are, he’s always running men off, not allowing anyone to get even remotely close to you. it wasn’t fair. you knew he was fucking other women, so why the hell couldn’t you move on? why the fuck did he think he owned you? could control you?

adam throws his hands up in surrender, his eyes darting between you and rafe. “alright, alright, calm the fuck down, dude. i’m going.”

rafe releases him, shoving him back again before he smiles, tapping at adam’s cheek twice, “smart man. now, run along, i’m sure there’s plenty of bitches in this bar who wouldn’t mind going home with you.”

adam quickly leaves the situation, leaving you there with your toxic fucking baby daddy. you quickly stand, stepping into rafe fast and punching him in the chest, but he only laughs.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you shove at his chest again, but this time he grips both your wrists in his right hand, stopping your assault. “why can’t you ever just leave me alone? huh? it’s been seven months, rafe! we have zero reason to interact unless it’s about charlotte.”

rafe uses his grip on your wrists to pull you into him, his left hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. he softly runs his index finger down the side of your face, leaning in so close you smell his cologne and the mix of whiskey and mint on his breath.

“let’s get one thing straight, baby. you left me. i didn’t want to break up, but, you left. you’re always, and i do mean always, going to fucking belong to me. understand?”

your nostrils flare and you yank your head to the side, refusing to meet his stare. a laugh rumbles deep in rafe’s chest, his index finger and thumb hooking underneath your chin, forcing your eyes back on him. “i love it when you play hard to get. it really turns me on.”

your pussy pulses and you hate yourself for it. as much as you hate rafe, you never hated the sex, he knew how to please you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need him to relieve some pent up stress. your eyes flick down to his lips before quickly rising again, finding his eyes darkened over with lust.

a slow smile spreads across his beautiful face, “say the word, baby. you know i’ll take care of you.”

your breath hitches, thighs pressing together to try and dull the ache you felt in your clit. rafe leans further into you, his lips brushing against yours. you suck in a shaky breath, “fine. i- i need you. but just for tonight, rafe. i’m serious.”

rafe smiles against your lips, pulling back and showcasing his perfect teeth. he releases your wrists, grabbing your hand in his and quickly pulling you to a dimly lit hallway, going straight for the men’s restroom. he pulls you inside the small bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him before he’s pushing you into the wall, his lips attacking yours.

you roll your hips into him, moaning against his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. rafe groans, his right hand running up the front of your body and to your neck. he tightly wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. “god i fuckin’ love hearing you whimper for me,” he kisses you harshly again, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before pulling off with a pop. “you gonna let me fuck you like the little whore i know you to be, baby?”

you nod your head, whispering a small ‘yes’ before reaching down and popping the button of his jeans, working his zipper down next. rafe smirks, his own hands going to work on getting your jeans off. “so needy, my girl ain’t been fucked in a while has she?”

“no, but you already knew that seeing as you run any man who tries to come into my life off.” you retort, rolling your eyes.

rafe chuckles, shaking his head before he’s harshly shoving your jeans down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles. he drags you toward the small white sink in the room, spinning you around so you’re facing the mirror. your hands grip at the cool porcelain, your neck arched back to look at rafe through the mirrors reflection.

he grins back at you, shoving his jeans and boxers down as well before he grips himself in one hand. his free hand reaches around your body, ring-clad fingers wrapping around your throat as he slowly strokes himself. he grunts, his strokes slow and deliberate.

“can’t wait to feel your perfect pussy wrapped ‘round me again.. s’been too long, baby.”

he slides your panties to the side, slowly running his tip through your slick folds, coating his length in your arousal before he slowly presses himself into you. you moan, back arching into him as he pushes himself inside you slowly, bottoming out with a raspy groan and a call of your name.

he snaps his hips into you, his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust. he tightens his grip on your throat, using his hold on you to pull you flush into him. your back arches head resting on his shoulder as he squeezes on your throat, his dick brutally thrusting up into you.

“feels so fuckin’ good, don’t you miss it? i know you miss me filling this pussy every day baby.”

you let out a strangled moan, pushing your hips back and meeting each of his thrusts. rafe leans into you, his body pressing firmly against yours as he continues his brutal pace. his teeth nip at your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth as he inhales your scent. his eyes meet your tear-filled ones in the mirrors reflection, “think i might just put another baby in you, you want that baby?”

a tear slips down your face, your pussy clenching around his dick at his words. you manage to choke out a ‘no’, your head shaking side to side the best you could manage. rafe laughs darkly in your ear, his thrusts slowing. he pulls out to the tip, slamming forward again, a raspy groan escaping him when your pussy squeezes at his cock.

releasing your throat, rafe continues to fuck himself inside you slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him sliding in and out. your head falls forward, hair hanging in your face as white hot pleasure wracks through your body, “r-rafe! ffffuck… ‘m.. gonna cum..” you cry out.

rafe breathes out a sigh, “i know baby. make a mess on my cock like you used to.”

he pushes in deep, the head of his cock hitting at your g-spot, and your pussy flutters around his length. blinding white covers your vision as your legs shake, your orgasm wracking through your body, soaking rafe’s cock and thighs.

he groans, his hips stuttering before his dick pulses inside you, “shiiiiittt… gonna fill this pussy up baby, make you swollen with my baby again— fuck!”

rafe thrusts himself in deep, filling you completely before he’s filling you up in slow spurts, your pussy clenching and unclenching around him, milking him for every drop. he holds himself inside you, riding out both your highs before he slowly pulls out of you, his lips softly kissing at your shoulder as he does.

you quickly shove away from him, pulling your jeans back up and straightening yourself out. you’re breathing is heavy, legs still shaking from the intense orgasm. you need to get out of here, now. you turn for the door, your hand reaching out to turn the lock, but rafe’s hand on your stops you. your body tenses, “rafe, i have to go.”

he presses a kiss to your cheek, leaning in close to your ear and whispering, “that’s fine, but remember what i said. you will always belong to me, baby. it’s time you stop running from it.”

tagging a few ppl: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @whytheylosttheirminds @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @nemesyaaa @hauntedfawnn @rafescorpsebride @oceandriveab @maybanksangel @maybankslover @drewsarms @jjsbaby

[loveesiren]

𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘚𝘶-𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘏𝘊𝘴

As requested, here is Subong vs. Thanos 🙂‍↔️ These are so fun to make lol

Warnings: Smut, MDNI 18+, lil bit of bondage, pill poppin purple boy

Choi Su-Bong

⊱ Subong, who has never given a fuck about a girl or her interests, wanted to know every single detail about you because he just found you so fascinating.

⊱ Subong, who wanted to make an actual effort to keep you in his life, learned to cook, just to impress you. He even learned a few Italian words just to use when he served you his famous fettucine alfredo that was mid at best but you loved the effort.

⊱ Subong, who became an avid gift giver. If he wasn't in debt before, he certainly was now. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, he'd get it. Any time he passed a shop displaying a gorgeous dress, he had to buy it. He just loved spoiling you.

⊱ Subong, who had never given a fuck about the state of his apartment, had suddenly become embarrassed the first time he invited you over. His mom was almost ecstatic to get his call as he stood in the aisle of the grocery store, asking her what he needed to deep clean his house.

⊱ Subong, who once he read your "I'm on my way home" text, immediately sprang into action, drawing you a bath, adding your favorite bubbles, and pouring you a glass of wine to enjoy so you could unwind after work.

⊱ Subong, who sat next to the bathtub, rubbing your feet as you bitched about your stupid coworkers.

⊱ Subong, who told you to relax as he laid you down on your bed, trailing kisses down your skin and savoring your taste.

⊱ Subong, who took his time getting to know every inch of your body because he just loved the way you melted under his touch.

⊱ Subong, who made a playlist for everything, including having sex with you specifically. You loved the way his tongue moved to the rhythm of the music against your body.

⊱ Subong, who took his time. Making sure every inch of you was cherished before he even thought about his own needs.

⊱ Subong, who moves slowly, but with passion as he makes love to you.

⊱ Subong, who always keeps a hand on your cheek, his forehead pressed against yours, as he moved in and out of you because it kept him grounded, reminded him that this was real. That you were really here, his only treasure.

⊱ Subong, who was sure to pull atleast three orgasms from you so that you could sleep easily, cleaned you up as you laid still before presenting you with a fresh pair of silk pajamas, because his girl deserved it.

Thanos

✞ Thanos, who watched you through blown out pupils and hooded eyes.

✞ Thanos, who kept his hand on your ass whenever the two of you were in public (in private too, let's be real), to make it known you belonged to him.

✞ Thanos, who wore sunglasses as he sat in the club, holding your hips tightly as you grinded on his lap. Other girls would shoot their shot but he just dragged you on his lap, his hands groping your tits as he made it known he didn't want another bitch on him.

✞ Thanos, who popped pills with his friends and laughed loudly, making himself the center of attention. Tucking you under his arm because he didn't want eyes on you. Not because he was jealous, but because you were his and his alone. He didn't want others gawking at you.

✞ Thanos, who made out with you in the back of the car as you were driven home for the night. His hands reaching up your skirt, moaning into your kisses loudly, surely making it awkward for the driver.

✞ Thanos, who loved seeing his ringed fingers wrapped around your tiny throat.

✞ Thanos, who throws you on the bed and demands you strip.

✞ Thanos, who pops another pill as he watches you do whatever he asks.

✞ Thanos, who loved nights like this, mostly because you loved it too, groveling on your knees as you begged to please him.

✞ Thanos, who loved the feeling of your plump lips wrapped around his aching cock.

✞ Thanos, who loved cumming on your face and tits, cuz you just looked so damn sexy covered in him.

✞ Thanos, who didn't let you clean up because he was far from done.

✞ Thanos, who grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to stand before he bent you over the bed (or the nearest surface) to examine how much that pretty pussy was oozing for him.

✞ Thanos, who had since moved on from handcuffs, loved using rope and wire to tie you up in whatever position he chose. Whatever position he could could nail you the deepest in.

✞ Thanos, who gave you no warning before he stuffed his cock deep inside you, barely giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

✞ Thanos, who was quick to set a brutal pace, biting into your shoulder as he humped you like a dog.

✞ Thanos, who wasn't overly concerned about getting you off, he needed this more, and you loved when he used you like a toy.

✞ Thanos, who wrestled with the thought of where he should cum. Inside of you? On your ass? Stomach? He just loved the way you looked cover in his cum.

✞ Thanos, who ultimately always opted to finish on your body, rubbing his cum into your skin like his own personal brand of lotion.

✞ Thanos, who left you tied up and covered in cum as he laid beside you and lit a cigarette.

✞ Thanos, who took long drags of his cigarette as he stared at your silent, pleading eyes. If you were good, and didn't bother him, he'd allow you to shower once he was finished.

✞ Thanos, who decided if you didn't stay silent like a good girl, would have to punish you all over again.

✞ Thanos, who if he was feeling nice, would untie you and carry you to the shower, where you could clean both yourself and him up for the night.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[hiiikiko]

𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖇𝖊

pure smut tbh, bully!ellie x reader

tw: bully!ellie, sweet!reader, sadistic notes, maschistic notes, and maybe a few more idk lol

Ellie hated you, she couldn’t put her finger on why, though. Maybe it was the stupid bows in your effortlessly curly hair, the way those pretty long lashes would bat up at her when she slammed you into a locker, or maybe… maybe it was the fact that you just had to be so fucking sweet to everyone, sweet as can be.

She bit harder on the wood of her No.2 pencil, her eyes boring a hole into the back of your head where that stupid fucking pink bow was sitting, her mind not even attempting to listen to whatever the professor was saying. Her mind was still reeling from she had witnessed earlier, you and that stupid boy flirting near the water fountains, or at least that’s what it looked like.

“Class is dismissed,” the professor’s dull voice echoed throughout the classroom.

You quickly collected your things and stuffed it into your backpack, your mind focused on getting out of there as soon as possible, before you-know-who corners you and escaping into the safety of your room.

You were so, so close to sweet freedom when she-who-must-not-be-named swooped in front of you, grabbing you by the collar like a mama lion would carry her baby cub but this time, she was the lion and you were the poor gazelle with your neck in her mouth.

“Hey Ellie,” you nervously laugh and tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, mouth running dry as her piercing green eyes rake over you.

You had no clue why she hated you so much. You were a complete sweetheart to everyone, never even accidentally stepped on someone’s toe when making your way through the crowded seats of your lecture halls and yet, this girl, hated your guts.

“Yeah, hey,” her eyes narrowed at your outfit, she clearly had a distaste for the frills, lace, and pink, “Need a favour.”

You knew that a favour from Ellie wasn’t a favour at all, it was and order, “Okay, what is it?”

She scoffed, she couldn’t believe how easy this was, “Come over to my dorm, room 328, Saint Cal Hall, need help with classowork.”

She nodded at you and left the classroom. Ellie smiled as she made her way to her next class, how could you be so fucking sweet to her, your bully? She shook her head.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Ellie’s dorm was clean.. surprisingly. Maybe you stereotyped her a bit too hard.. you had assumed that all jocks were assholes who left their socks strewn all over and waited for the weekends for their moms or girlfriends to clean up their dorms.

Studying went well.. until..

“Why were you talking with that frat boy,” she crossed her arms and leaned into the chair of her desk.

You racked your brain for a frat boy… frat boy… “Oh! Liam? I was just giving him some advice on Professor Edwards class since I took it last semester,” you truthfully admit.

“That so?” she scoffed, not buying it.

“Mhm,” you hum out, your body tensing under her gaze.. you couldn’t deny it, Ellie was objectively attractive, hell, she was hot. The way her hair was messy but in an effortlessly cool way, her piercing gaze that never seemed to falter, the way she was so close, you could count the freckles on her face, the way—.

“So you couldn’t see the way he was looking at you? He was obviously eye-fucking you,” she scoffs and eyes you up and down, “You can’t even blame him when you’re wearing a skirt that short.”

Your cheeks flushed red and tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, you should be used to the bullying by now, right? But you weren’t, if anything you had gotten more and more sensitive.. and Ellie noticed that.

“I don’t need this,” you mutter and make your way to the door.

“Aw, you crying?” she laughed dryly and pushed herself off the chair, circling you like a vulture, “Did that hurt your feelings? God, grow up.”

You wiped your tears with your sleeve and sniffle, “I’m not crying.”

The way your lashes glistened with tears stirred something deep within Ellie, “God, you’re too sweet.”

You cocked your head in confusion…. ‘too sweet?’

“What do you mean by that?” you wipe another tear away.

“You really wanna know what I mean?” she took a step closer to your front, her pale hand wiping away your fat teardrops.

You weren’t sure how to answer but then you hesitantly nod.

Within one quick motion, Ellie looks the door and with her other hand, pulls you in by your neck, hungrily kissing you, a small groan escaping her pretty lips.

You were confused, this girl who has bullied you since Freshman year is now kissing you, causing your knees to buckle as you wrap your arms around her to hold yourself up.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” she growled out and pushed you up against her bed, her hands lifting you up onto it while she nipped at your neck, “Too fucking sweet for your own good,” she muttered against your neck.

Right now, all Ellie could think of was you… the way you always smiled at your fellow classmates, the way you didn’t notice the fluttering touches that the boys in the class would leave on you. In her own sadistic way, this was almost a way to teach you a lesson, to teach you that not everyone should be treated in such a sweet manner, that not anybody can be trusted.. if it meant protecting you, she was willing to play the big bad wolf.

She roughly pulled up your skirt and moved the thin fabric of your panties to the side, her fingers grazing against your folds, “You’re so fucking wet,” she laughs cruelly, “You really getting off on this?”

Your cheeks flared red, “N-No.”

“Liar,” she laughed and pushed two fingers in, earning a sharp gasp from you. Even in this case, she was as cruel as ever.

“E-Ellie,” you whimper and move your hips so she could reach deeper.

She turned her head to not-so-subtly sniff your strawberry scented hair, groaning at the sweet smell. Everything about you is so sweet, she angled her hand in a way that would make her two fingers move further into your sweet pussy, her fingers pushing up against that sweet spot deep within you, “What? Feelin’ good?”

You eagerly nod, you were already so close, you were clenching so hard around her, “I-I’m gonna—.”

She rolled her eyes, “Already? Don’t you fucking dare, you’ll cum when I tell you to.”

She was being so mean and both of you knew it but you couldn’t deny that you didn’t like it.

Ellie knew she had to teach you a lesson like, come on. You came all the way across campus to her dorm to tutor her? To tutor your fucking bully? Get real, you were too fucking naive for your own good and like that saint she is, Ellie decided to teach you a very much needed lesson.

She moved her fingers faster, rougher, causing your eyes to flutter shut. Your hands desperately balled the sheets up into your fist, desperately trying to find anything to keep you grounded. You were so close, you were going to—.

Just as you were about to be pushed over the edge, she pulled her fingers out, they were slick and wet, “You’re such a pathetic girl,” she laughs and licks her fingers clean, “but you taste so sweet.”

“Get on all fours,” she said, roughly turning you over and watching as you get up.

You heard faint rusting and a drawer opening, you glanced back to see Ellie with a strap on tied around her.

She climbed onto the mattress and pushes you down, holding your hands against the mattress so that your face was flat against the bed as she rammed the strap into you.

You let out a loud cry at the harsh thrusts, tears pricking your eyes as your eyes rolled back.

“Gotta stop being so fucking sweet,” Ellie groans, emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust, her hand roughly circling your aching clit while the other pushed your head deeper into the mattress.

All you could do was cry out ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘won’t do it again’ over and over.

She growled at your pathetic babbling, “You’re so fucking weak.”

You whimpered, you never really cared for how harsh she could be but… it was a completely different story if it was in bed.

“You like how mean I am, baby?” she laughed as she felt you clench around the strap.

You nod, too fucked out to care about what you just admitted.

“Yeah?” she whispered against your neck, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

“Y-yeah,” you whimper.

“You like being fucked by your bully?” she laughed and went harder, bullying the strap deeper inside you.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, your vision turned white as you fell apart on the strap, your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

As your brain came out of that fuzzy bliss, you heard Ellie laughing softly, “You’re way too sweet.”

[romanarose]

My Wife, My Wife, My Wife.

Protective!Logan Howlett x f!reader

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Summary: You're pregnant and take your new husband, Logan, to Thanksgiving with your family. Logan isn't too happy with how you are treated.

Warnings: Toxic families, comments on eating and weight, pregnancy, Roman's daddy and mommy issues.

Dividers by @sister-lucifer

"Dinners ready!" Your moms voice calls out from the kitchen. You'd spent much of the day helping her get the food ready, but needed rest away from the heat. Your pregnancy had made you sensitive to the heat, and Logan always made sure you rested plenty.

Logan takes your arm, helping you off the couch and to the table with strong but gentle guidance. He's always gentle with you, but especially so now that your pregnancy has reached month 8 it was even more so.

Your dad took his seat at the head of the table, the rest of the family filing around the seating, filling up both the adult and kids table to it's max.

"Ladies, why don't we let you guys go ahead and get the mens food first, then we can get the kids." Mom instructs, and the adults and cousins and your sister get up to get their mens meals. You lock eyes with Logan as you start to get up, rolling them with him as he smiles. You did not mind serving Logan, in fact you enjoyed doing things like that for him. Logan was a good husband, he took care of you and you liked to take care of him. But it was the fact your mom expected you to, and that it was the men that always got food first at the table. That's not how it worked in yours and Logans home.

Logan doesn't let you get up, placing a firm hand on your thigh as you smirk up at him. This was going to annoy your mom. "I got it, baby."

Your mom, as predicted, turned to Logan with that clipped but cheerful tone she uses when there is company. "Oh don't worry Logan, she can get it."

"It's alright ma'am" Logan smiles thats disarming smile. He's so handsome, when he smiles its hard to argue. "My wife is pregnant, I think I can handle getting our plates."

Logan gets you first, asking you a few questions here and there 'you want a lot of mac and cheese?' but mostly knowing what you like. You sit in your seat simply glowing as the women in line glance enviously towards you. Their husbands would never. They get plates for their men, then their children, then themselves.

When the table goes around saying what they are thankful for, Logan proudly says, "my wife, and our son" and plants a kiss on your cheek. You feel a little embarrassed you went before him and said modern medicine, but your pregnancy hadn't exactly been easy, so you had your reasons.

When it was time for desert, you asked Logan to get you whipped cream on your cherry pie, which of course your mother had something to say about.

"I don't think that's a good idea, honey." she says quietly next to you.

You glare at your mom, shoveling a large scoop of pie into your mouth. "I'm growing a baby, mom."

"Oh, and the whipped cream provides much needed nutrition?"

Logan leans over, spraying a massive amount of whipped cream onto the pie, spilling over onto the plate.

"If my wife wants whipped cream, whipped cream she'll get."

You make sure to hum in contentment as your mom eats a small slice of pumpkin. No whipped cream.

Your dad, of course, had ignored you most of the day. Ever since you got with Logan, he couldn't act the way he usually did with you, making him one of your dads uhhhhhh less liked people. He couldn't cross your no hugging boundary anymore, Logan always standing protectively close and his arm around you when you said hello's and goodbyes. He couldn't make subtle digs about your hair or tattoos anymore. You never even had a chance to argue anymore, Logan took care of it.

Still, as the evening went on and the alcohol poured (for everyone but you.) he started speaking more freely.

"I bet you're relieved to be having a son, aren't you Logan?"

Your body immediately tensed, and Logan didn't fail to notice. "I don't know what you mean. I'm happy to be having a baby, the sex doesn't really matter."

"I just mean," His mouth is full of chex mix. "You know how women are. Having a daughter can be a lot. They are so dramatic, and god, when they are teenagers-"

"May I remind you you're speaking about my wife when you talk about your daughter?"

Your dads face settle into a hard line. "You know, this whole 'my wife' bit is getting old. You've been married over a year, I think you can act like a normal couple now."

You scoff. "Act like what? make a bunch of jokes about how we hate each other? Surprise, dad, if I didn't like him I wouldn't be married to him."

"See what I mean?" He laughs, ignoring you and turning to Logan. "Women, always putting words in your mouth, pretending you said things you didn't. Just be happy you're having a boy."

Logan squeezed your hand. "I'm happy I'm having a boy because I'm happy we're starting a family. Respectfully, I'd appreciate if you stopped talking about my wife like she's some kind of burden, because she's not."

He laughs again. "C'mon, you're telling me you like it when she she cries at every little thing, or when she gets pissed off for leaving the toilet seat up? It doesn't drive you crazy that she can't wake up early enough to make breakfast? You like when she dresses like a-"

"That's enough!" Logan stands abruptly, and your eyes go wide, hoping he doesn't go too far... but when it comes to you, he's fiercely protective. "I don't mind her crying because it tells me she feels safe enough to show her emotions. She doesn't get mad at me for leaving the toilet seat up because I simply don't do it. She doesn't have to wake up and make me breakfast because this isn't fucking 1955, and I swear to god if you make one more comment about her appearance i will-"

He stops as soon as he feels your hand on his back.

Logan wraps his arm around your waste, guiding you towards the door. "C'mon baby, lets go home." He helps you put on your shoes, kneeling down at your feet without shame to help you slide them on. Before he leaves, Logan turns to face your dad again, unsheathing his claws "Do not ever disrespect my wife again, do you understand?"

Your dad gulped, and nodded.

When you and Logan get outside and close the door, you both burst into laughter.

"Lo!" You exclaim, Logan holding onto you so you don't slip on the snow. "That was a bit excessive, don't you think?" but you were giggling still.

"Nothings too much for my wife." He kissed your cheek, grinning, before opening the car door. When he slides in his side, he finds you smiling fondly at him.

"You know, I used to dread family events. Now i don't have to worry about a thing."

"And you never will. You and our son are never gonna have to worry about anything, okay? Not with me around. And that includes your annoying ass dad."

Once again, the two of you cackle with laughter as he drives off towards home.

happy thanksgiving if you celebrate!!!

I opted to NOT go home for the holidays THANKS 1. my family is a mess 2/ they are 2 hours away 3. I AM STILL FUCKING SICK!!!! i have bronchitis not and its awful. I woke up coughing so hard i vomited. good times.

I went to my friends place though! I love her family. then after lunch i was tired and sick and laid down in the spare bedroom for an hour. then i tried to get though dessert and some games but i had a coughing fit and just had to leave :((( but my friend sent me home with homemade soup and bread!

anyway, if your family makes you feel like shit, fuck em! not literally.

i'm going to bed now. After looking it all up, the best thing i can do to help is drink tea with honey, lots of water, and sleep so thats what im doing

[katsu28]

for you i'd wait forever

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley breaks things off with you before a deployment because he doesn't want you to worry about him (4.2k)

warnings: some swearing, bradley's commitment issues, happy ending i promise!

a/n: okay so from what i gathered from my googling is that tapping out is typically for new military graduates (i think?) but this idea was so cute so pls forgive the inaccuracies i have no idea what i'm doing at all <3 and also pls forgive me for the utter lack of writing since the beginning of the year, these last few months have been brutal (creatively and otherwise) but i am hopefully back!!! xx

Bradley thought he knew the tolls of being in the Navy. It was tough on not only him, but the people in his life. For the most part, he’d always put his career first. His life had always been on a set track, and although there were plenty of setbacks, he forged ahead until he got where he was today. 

And then he met you. Fell in love with you. Finally knew what it meant to have someone in his corner who was just his. Who knew him for him only, not as Goose’s kid, or Mav’s protege.

For the first time in his life, he could actually see himself spending the rest of it with you. Marriage, house, kids, grandkids—the whole shebang.

That was his first mistake. The more he thought about what life could look like with you, the more he thought about what your life could look like without him. What would happen if something happened to him and he didn’t make it back from this next mission coming up in a few weeks. 

He thought about his mom and how she lost his dad—her husband. The man she thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. 

Bradley’s thoughts grew quite grim after that. Countless what if’s and thinking about every possible outcome and he eventually made up his mind. He had to break up with you. 

He didn’t want to. Not by a long shot. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him in his thirty plus years of life. But deep down, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was about to leave for six, seven months, with little to no contact with anyone who wasn’t Navy. That would definitely take a toll on your relationship. You’d never been through something like this before, and there really was no way to prepare you for what it would be like. 

You would worry about him every single hour of every single day, he knew that for a fact. Bradley barely remembered what it was like when his dad was away because he was so young, but he did remember how worried his mom was all the time.

Looking back, he understood now. He didn’t want that for you. The worry would hold you back from other things you wanted to do in life, things that brought you joy and gave you purpose. 

With the mission creeping up on him faster than he would’ve liked, he knew he had to do it sooner rather than later. 

That was how Bradley found himself on your doorstep right now, pushing down his guilt by telling himself over and over that breaking up with you was in your best interest. He hadn’t called beforehand to tell you he was coming by, so when you answered the door and beamed brighter than the stars when your eyes landed on him, he almost wanted to chicken out. 

“Hi!” You exclaimed, immediately pulling him into a warm hug. His arms closed around you out of instinct, thumb rubbing over the sliver of exposed skin at your waist, nose nudging its way against your neck the way he always did when you embraced him. 

He inhaled the scent of the lotion you loved to use, that flowery one that sometimes made him sneeze. You always said you’d buy a different one the next time you went to the store, but you always forgot. He didn’t mind it at all though. A small bout of allergies was nothing compared to the inevitable smattering of apology kisses you pressed to his face when you realized you’d forgotten. 

Fuck, this was going to be way harder than he thought. 

Your hands made their way up his biceps to cup his cheeks, eyes darting around his face. “What’re you doing here? Oh my god, did we have something planned? I’m so—” 

“No.” He gave his head a shake, offering you a smile. “No, we didn’t have anything planned. I just…wanted to see you. To talk to you.” 

“Come in, come in, I was just about to start dinner,” You hummed, escaping his embrace with an arm hooked through his to tug him over the threshold. “Trying a new recipe I found the other day, not sure if it’ll turn out good or end up being a shitshow, but—well, you can help me be the judge of that, I guess!” 

“Is it okay if we talk first?” 

If you were confused, you didn’t show it, just changed direction seamlessly, making your way to the couch instead of the kitchen. You sat down, patting the cushion next to you for him to settle on and he did, rubbing his clammy palms against his thighs. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Everything was far from okay, he wanted to say. Instead he inhaled a deep breath before his next words. 

“I wanted to tell you I’m shipping out in a few weeks.” 

Your face fell a little, but you nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. What do we do? Is there anything you can tell me? Like, what’s the best way to get in touch with you, when’s the best time, that kind of stuff? Or is sending letters better? Sorry, I feel like I’m asking a lot of questions. I don’t—I’ve never really done anything like this before, so—” 

“I think we should break up.” He blurted. 

You hesitated before answering, blinking at him like you’d somehow heard him wrong. “What?” 

“It’s hard having someone overseas for a long time, even more so when it’s a partner. It was really hard on my mom, and hard for me having to watch her worry like that for months, and I—I don’t want that for you.” He said quietly, not daring to meet your eyes until he gave his poor excuse for an explanation on why he was doing the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do to you. 

The moment he’d realized he’d fallen in love with you, he’d promised himself he would never abandon you, never break your heart or your trust, and here he was, doing that exact thing. It was tearing him apart inside. 

“I don’t want you to have to go through all that, so it’s just better if we—that we break up now. Before I go.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice broke just after the last word, swallowed up by a hitched inhale of a breath that had his resolve wavering just the slightest bit. He could barely look you in the eyes the whole time, and now…he didn’t think he could stand the sadness and hurt flooding every single one of your beautiful features. 

“All the worrying and the uncertainty of not knowing what’s happening, I don’t—it wouldn’t be fair to you. I care about you too much to put you through all of that.” 

You were silent for the longest time, eyes glued to the floor as you processed the information. He thought you were about to start crying with the way your brow creased, but when you finally looked back up at him, your gaze had hardened. “Did these last six months mean nothing to you? You’re just gonna throw everything away because what—you don’t think I can handle it?” 

They meant everything to me, he wanted to say. You mean everything to me. 

If he was really being honest with himself, it was him who couldn’t handle it. Still, he forged on, thinking it best to just rip off the bandaid. He could live with being the asshole if it meant sparing you from the terrible experience of him being god knows how many miles away for months. 

“I’m sorry. I wish you nothing but happiness, Y/N. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you.” 

“You wish me nothing but happiness?” You chuckled humorlessly, shaking your head. Bradley’s eyes tracked you across the room as you paced back and forth, guilt ridden expression on full display. All he wanted to do was take all of it back; to kiss you senseless and tell you everything was going to work out, but he couldn’t. He’d burned the bridge, cut the rope. Broke your heart. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He probably was. “Screw you, Bradley. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was all he could say. 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

“Y/N, I—” 

You rushed at him, pushing, shoving, sending him stumbling step by step towards the front door until he almost crashed into it had he not managed to pull it open a split second before you shoved him outside. He’d never forget the look of betrayal in your eyes right before you slammed the door in his face. 

Bradley forced his feet to take him back to his car, then to drive away before he could have a chance to even try and make things better. He’d most likely end up making things much, much worse. Though he didn’t think it could get any worse with the way he was feeling about himself right now. You were angry at him, and you had every right to be. 

But had he lingered at your door only moments after, he would’ve heard the thump against the wood that was you sliding down to the floor and the sob that escaped your mouth. 

All because of him. 

-------

Bradley was happy to finally be coming back home after ages away, but then he realized it—he didn’t have anyone to tap him out this time. His mind jumped to you first, but there was no chance in hell you’d be there for him. You’d probably moved on months ago. Forgotten about him. And with Mav away on another deployment, he really had no one. 

His chest ached the longer he stood at attention, jaw clenched tighter than he meant it to be as he watched the rest of his squad get tapped out by their loved ones. Coyote’s parents, Fanboy’s sisters, Hangman’s nieces and nephews, Phoenix’s girlfriend. They were all emotional reunions, and Bradley was happy for them, he really was. But it sucked being the one with nobody there for him. 

He wasn’t expecting the soft tap on his arm when it came. He thought it was a mistake at first; someone else’s family bumping into him accidentally, so he didn’t move. But when the hand didn’t leave its place wrapped loosely around his bicep, Bradley knew it really was for him. He turned around, squinting against the blinding sunlight to see who’d come for him. 

“Hi.” You said softly, hand dropping back down to your side. He couldn’t help but let himself take you in, eyes drinking in every single achingly familiar detail of you until you shifted nervously under his intense gaze. You looked so beautiful he almost felt dizzy, just like he remembered but at the same time somehow even better. 

“You came.” He said, disbelieving. He could still hardly believe you were actually here. 

“I promised you I would.” 

“But that—that was before…everything happened. Why are you—what’re you doing here?” The last thing he wanted to sound like was ungrateful, because he was quite literally the opposite, but his mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that despite him breaking your heart seven months ago, you still remembered what you’d promised him in the very beginning of your relationship. 

“What does it mean to tap someone out?” You asked quietly, tracing a finger along the planes of Bradley’s bare chest. Your legs were tangled under the covers, both of you still basking in the aftermath of getting reacquainted with each other again after Bradley had been out of town attending a weeklong training exercise. 

His skin was still damp with sweat, but you didn’t mind one bit, too busy exploring the expanse of muscle shifting under his bronzed skin again. “In military terms, I mean.” 

He chuckled, hiding a content smile into the hair at the crown of your head. “That’s a weird question.” 

“Humor me, Bradshaw.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley stroked a rough palm down the smooth skin of your arm, taking a few beats to come up with an answer that would make sense. “Tapping out is a super long standing tradition in pretty much all military units, I think. It comes at the end of a mission, when we’ve come back to base.” 

His arm repositioned itself under your head as he scooted closer to the warmth radiating from your body, nose nuzzling deeper against you just so he could engrain the smell of your lingering fruity scented shampoo into his memory forever. 

How you still smelled so good even after your…physical activities just before this was beyond him, but he loved it. 

“An aviator’s loved ones are usually the ones to do it. Friends, family, those kinds of people. When you tap out your aviator, literally you’re releasing them from formation. But I guess it’s kind of a gesture that means…you’re home.” 

Your wandering fingers stilled against his skin, lingering right above his heart. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Who usually taps you out?” 

Bradley remained silent. It was an innocent question, he knew that. He’d told you a little bit about his parents, and you were just curious. Still, it sent a pang of sadness through his chest whenever he thought about what it would’ve been like if they were still around today. 

He cleared his throat, sniffing once. “Usually Mav. Or sometimes one of my squad’s family. If no one can, I just gotta wait til everyone else is done.” 

“I wanna do it.”

“What?” 

“I’m gonna be there next time you come back from a mission. To tap you out.” 

“I appreciate it, honey, I do. But you don’t need to.” 

“I want to.” You said firmly, pulling away from him to prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye. You looked damn serious too. He raised a quizzical brow. “You said that to tap someone out means to tell them they’re home. I want to be the one to tell you you’re home. Here. With me.” 

Bradley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then snapped shut when no words came out. He really was at a loss for words. No one had ever done that before. Sure, Mav’s offer was always a good one to fall back on, but Bradley had never had someone he cared about as much as he did about you telling him they were going to be there for him. 

The next best thing he could think of instead of saying anything at all was to kiss you. So he did. 

He pushed himself up towards you, sliding a hand around the nape of your neck and pressing his lips against yours. Not bruisingly hard, but enough to let you know he was all in. The other hand curled around your shoulder, splaying across your back to bring you back in closer to him, until your chests were flush and you could feel his heartbeat thundering under your palm.

He was home. You were his home. 

“I told you I’d be here to tap you out, and I meant it.” You said simply, holding his gaze. “I keep my promises, Bradshaw. Even after the way you left things.” 

Red hot guilt crept its way through his chest like vines, bringing all the memories of the last time you saw each other right back up to the surface, even after how hard he’d tried to shove them all down. If there was one thing he regretted in life, it was how he left you that night. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for that one. 

“I don’t even know what to say, Y/N, I—” 

“Then let me say something.” You blurted, wringing your hands. Bradley nodded instantly, still too dumbfounded to reply. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say to you today for months. I don’t even know if I should.” 

“You should.” He encouraged, nodding quickly. He’d always wanted you to be able to speak your mind with him. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear it.” 

“Okay. Okay, well first of all, you’re an asshole, Bradley.” 

He nodded again. He deserved at least that much. “I am. Absolute asshole, I know.” 

“But I never stopped loving you. Even though I was angry and sad and confused as fuck as to why you would do that to me, I still loved you. And eventually, I realized that it wasn’t anything I did wrong. You were scared. Of losing me, of me losing you. So you decided it was your responsibility to pull the ripcord before you crashed and burned.” Bradley winced slightly at the comparison and you grimaced at your own poor choice in words. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s okay. You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“You said you didn’t want me to worry while you were gone, well, I did that anyways.” You chuckled, like you were remembering a fond memory instead of the constant state of anxiety you’d been in. “But instead of worrying that the man I love might not make it home, I was terrified that if you didn’t come home, I’d spend my whole life replaying our last conversation in my head. Wondering if there was something I could’ve said or done so you wouldn’t have given up on us so easily.” 

“You think that was easy for me? Sweetheart, walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my whole life.” 

“Sure seemed pretty easy.” You scoffed lightly, only a tad spiteful. A low blow, you realized, when Bradley stiffened for a split second, but you held steady. 

“It wasn’t.” His reply was immediate and firm as could be, but somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better. “You have to understand, breaking things off was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t—I thought that if I didn’t, you’d wait for me.” 

“I would’ve waited, Bradley! I did wait for you! For you, I'd wait forever because I love you, but you didn’t even give me that choice. You made the decision on your own instead of talking to me about it. That was what hurt the most.”  

“I’m sorry.” Bradley said quietly, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced through yours almost tentatively, feeling so familiar but so foreign at the same time. There was a point in your life where you never thought that concept would apply to Bradley. “I never should’ve left like that, I wish I could take it all back.” 

“I think I understand now why you did it. I understand that fear that comes with the experience of losing a loved one like that. But Bradley, you’re not responsible for my feelings. And I don’t care how scared you get, I’m not going anywhere. From now on, we work things out together, no matter what you think is best.” 

“From now on? Does that mean…?” 

“You’re my home, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley took your face in his hands and he kissed you, long and hard, pouring every ounce of pent up feelings he’d been bottling up for the past seven months into it. Pain, fear, love, hope—all of it. You were never one to believe in such emotion being able to convey itself through a simple physical action, but now you could honestly say you understood it. 

Your hands spread across the broadness of his back, fingers pressing into the crisp starch of his uniform like you were afraid of letting him go , even though he was home and everything was okay now. Losing him the first time made you angry. You didn’t even want to imagine possibly losing him a second time. 

He drew back, only far enough to press his lips to your forehead, hands still holding you close as could be. “Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises.” 

“C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the squad.” He said softly, lacing his fingers through yours. The way he all but bounded over to the group of aviators a little ways away was almost boyish, as was the excitement in his voice when he approached them. “Hey everyone, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Bradley announced, sliding a hand around to the small of your back. 

Everyone’s eyes turned on you, conversations petering to a gradual stop as they looked between you and Bradley. You shifted nervously, suddenly feeling unsure with all the attention on you, but Bradley’s thumb rubbed along your skin, soothing you just a bit. “This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” 

The tall blond reacted the quickest, snapping loudly before aiming a finger in your direction, along with a shiny smile. “Wait, I know you! You’re the one in that photo Rooster keeps tucked in his helmet. Lemme tell you, he looked at that picture every damn day, it was like—” 

Bradley let out a very forced laugh, aiming a not-so-subtle daggered glare at the other man. “Okay, Hangman! That’s okay, I really don’t think—” 

“You’re a real saint, taking this one back. If I ever pulled the shit he did, my car would’ve been keyed to all hell when I came home.” Hangman chuckled, giving his head a shake. 

“Hangman. Shut. Up.” 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!” 

“You’re the only one talking!” 

“Alright, alright, you’re both grown men here,” The dark haired woman sighed, turning towards you. “At least, I hope so.” 

You chuckled at that, casting a glance over at Bradley to find him already looking back at you, the back and forth with Hangman already long forgotten given the way he was smiling at you, like you were the force that made the world go round. Taking you in under his arm, he dotted a kiss to your hairline as your fingers came up to intertwine with his again, watching you interact with his squad like you’d known them for years. 

It was everything he ever wanted. And now that he had it, he’d never be dumb enough to let it go again. 

His mind drifted back to his parents’ fate— how they never got to live out their life together. How there was no guarantee about anything when it came to Bradley’s own fate with you.

And sure, it was scary to be so uncertain about the future, but you’d both climb that hill together when the time came. For now, Bradley could let himself be content. This second chance at a life with you wasn’t one he was planning on taking lightly, not by a long shot. 

“Let’s get off this damn carrier and hit the town! Drinks at the Hard Deck, last one there buys the first round!” Hangman’s drawling voice drew Bradley out of his thoughts, just in time to let the words sink in.

You, on the other hand, stifled a giggle at the sight of seeing a group of full grown adults scatter as fast as Bradley’s friends did. Watching Hangman nearly shove Coyote to the ground upon seeing their cars were parked next to each other was something you’d never not get a kick out of. 

But Bradley, he didn’t seem as worried about it all. In fact, he walked leisurely with your hand firmly in his, swinging both of them between the two of you as you made your way to your own car. 

“Aren’t you worried you’ll be the last one there?” 

“I’ll buy the round, I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I wanna spend some time with my girl.” 

“Your girl.” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Gotta say, I’ve missed hearing that.” 

“I’ve missed saying it. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, honey. Starting with, do you or do you not have a voodoo doll made in my image that you stabbed with pins when I was away because I broke your heart?” 

You scoffed, letting out a not so attractive snort. “Bradley, I mean this in the most respectful way possible—what the hell are you talking about? Where would you even get that idea?”

“I—uh, I had a dream about it? A few weeks into deployment.” He admitted sheepishly, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You don’t, right?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You replied, giving his chest a firm pat. You didn’t have a voodoo doll of him, of course, but playing along was worth it just to see Bradley squirm. 

“Wait, wait, wait, but you didn’t say no.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“So you do?” 

“I didn’t say that either. But if you’re not sure, I’d watch yourself the next couple weeks.” 

His brows furrowed in confusion and a bit of fear as he watched you walk away from him with some bounce to your step. “I…really don’t like the sound of that. Hang on, get back here. Explain, please!” 

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[snoopychris]

dbf!chris is struggling and needs younger!readers help

chris sighed as his four year old rejected his food again. he felt like he had made every possible meal by now. eggs, pancakes, waffles, he even went out of his way to call his mom for a french toast recipe. “owen, buddy. hey i need you to eat.” he frowns, ruffling the kids hair. “i’ve made you everything by now! i can’t make you much more… we don’t have much more. i’m gonna be eatin all this food for multiple meals.” he whispers. he knew that owen didn’t understand much, but he still tried. owen huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“cocoa puffs!” he whines, pouting his big brown eyes at his father. owen, otherwise a spitting image of chris, had his mothers eyes. it was the only feature he seemed to have of hers. chris sighs again as he nods in defeat, grabbing the cereal box from the top of the fridge. he serves a small portion in an equally small bowl for the boy, but groans when he’s opens the fridge and discovers he’s out of milk. that damn french toast. he glances outside to determine if it was worth going out with a toddler. when he sees the snow falling, he decides against it.

“sorry bud. guess you’ll have to eat it dry.” he mumbles, giving the boy an apologetic kiss on the head. owen frowns at the sight, pushing the cereal away too. chris’ frown grows and if anyone were to see the two boys pouting at that moment they’d know they were related. “owen.” he speaks sternly, his patience suddenly flying out the window into the storm. owen’s little lip trembles at his dad’s tone. chris never yells. he’s never mean. he swore to be everything his dad wasn’t. tears form in the poor boys eyes. he’s about to break down. chris tries his best to prevent the situation by pulling him into his arms, rubbing the back of his head. “hey… it’s okay. we’ll go buy some milk later and you can have that for lunch yeah?” he mumbles, running fingers through the boys hair. when owen begins to reply, he’s cut off by a knock on their door.

owen hops off his chair and begins running towards the door, his little feet going slower than he hopes. “mommy! daddy mommy’s here!” he yells. chris only frowns cause he knows that no, owen’s mom definitely isn’t there. as much as he wishes that she was on the other side, he knew that there was no way. he catches up to the boy and moves him aside gently.

“no bud it’s not mommy. move over so i can open the door yeah?” chris whispers, slowly opening the door. he’s shocked when you’re on the other side, a big tupperwear in your hands. “hey, kid. what are you doin here? it’s storming out there, don’t tell me you came all the way over here to return an old container of mine? unless you’re just using it as an excuse for something else which… just isn’t the best time right now.” he asks, moving aside to let you in. you shake your head as you walk in, pushing your hood off your head.

“no i um… actually made like… way too much chicken noodle soup last night. my dad told me to bring some over.” you smile, placing it on the table. you kneel down to be eye level with owen, noticing his messy hair. “y’just wake up or something? why’s that hair a mess?” you joke, glancing up towards chris. you smile at him, his hair messy just like his toddlers. owen giggles at your words, tumbling towards the container on the counter.

“daddy, soup?” he whispers, batting his eyes at his father. chris chuckles and nods, taking the container to the kitchen and serving the young boy some. a genuine smile runs across chris’ face when owen begins happily eating, enjoying every bite. chris sends you a look. you can’t tell what it’s for at first, but you understand when chris speaks.

“thank you… he hasn’t wanted to eat anything yet.” he whispers, looking over all the other food on his kitchen counter. “you hungry?” his smile grows when you nod and begin to dig into some of the food sitting out.

dividers by @issysh3ll !!

a/n: dilf!chris i adore you

taglist(reply or message to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @forgottxen @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @riasturns @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @mattg1rl @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @ayesha-eroticaa @ivysturnss @slutformatt17

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.

See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.

The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.

Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!

The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.

The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.

I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.